P. Henry. Five years; by'rlady, a long leafe for the clinking of pewter. But Francis, dareft thou be fo valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and fhew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. O Lord, Sir, I'll be fworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart————

Poins. Francis,

Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry. How old art thou Francis?

Fran. Let me fee, about Michaelmas next I fhall be

Poins. Francis,

Fran. Anon, Sir; pray you ftay a little, my lord. P. Henry. Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the fugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not? Fran. O lord, I would it had been two.

P. Henry, I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it. Poins. Francis,

Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Henry. Anon, Francis? no, Francis, but to-morrow, Francis, or Francis, on Thurfday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,

Fran. My lord?

P. Henry. Wilt thou rob this leathern jerkin, cryftalbutton, knot-pated, agat-ring, puke-ftocking, caddice-garter, fmooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch.

Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean?

P. Henry. Why then your brown baftard is your only drink; for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will fully. In Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to fo much.

Fran. What Sir?

Poins. Francis,

P. Henry. Away, you rogue, doft thou not hear them call?

Here they both call; the drawer ftands amazed, not knowing which way to go.

C 6

Enter

Enter Vintner.

Vint. What, ftand'st thou ftill, and hear'ft fuch a Calling? Look to the guests within. My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at the door; fhall I let them in?

P. Henry. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. Poins,[Exit Vintner

Enter Poins.

Poins. Anon, anon, Sir;

P. Henry. Sirrah, Falstaff and the reft of the thieves are at the door; fhall we be merry?

Poins. As merry as Crickets, my lad. But hark ye, what cunning match have you made with this jeft of the drawer? come, what's the iffue?

P. Henry. I am now of all humours, that have fhew'd themselves humours, fince the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this prefent twelve o'clock at midnight. What's o'clock, Francis?

Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry. That ever this fellow fhould have fewer words than a Parrot, and yet the fon of a Woman!— His industry is up ftairs and down flairs; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the hot-fpur of the north; he that kills me fome fix or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands and fays to his wife, fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my fweet Harry, fays fhe, how many haft thou kill'd to day? Give my roan horse a drench, fays he, and anfwers, fome fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damn'd Brawn fhall play dame Mortimer his wife. Ribi, fays the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.

SCENE

Enter Falftaff, Gads-hill, Bardolph, and Peto.

Poins.

WE ELCOME, Jack; where haft thou been?,

Fal. A plague of all cowards, I fay, and a vengeance too, marry and Amen! Give me a cup of fack, boy-Ere I lead this life long, I'll few nether focks, and mend them, and foot them too. plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of fack, rogue. [He drinks.

Is there no virtue extant?

A

P. Henry. Didft thou ever fee Titan kifs a dish of butter? (pitiful-hearted Titan!) that melted at the fweet tale of the Sun? if thou didft, then behold that compound.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this fack too; there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of fack with lime in it. A villainous coward-Go thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a fhotten herring; there live not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them is fat, and grows old, God help, the while! a bad world; I say. I would, I were a weaver; I could fing pfalms, and all manner of fongs. A plague of all cowards, I fay

fill!

?

P. Henry. How now, Woolfack, what mutter you Fal A King's fon? if I do not beat thee out of thy Kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy Subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geefe, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales?

P. Henry. Why, you whorefon round man! what's the matter?

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that, and Poins there?

P. Henry

P. Henry. Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll ftab thee.

Fal. I call thee coward; I'll fee thee damn'd ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as faft as thou canst. You are ftrait enough in the fhoulders, you care not who fees your' back: call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon fuch backing! give me them that will face me Give me a cup of fack; I am a rogue, if I drunk to day.

P. Henry, O villain, thy lips are scarce wip'd fince thou drunk'ft laft.

Fal. All's one for that.

A plague of all cowards, ftill, fay I!

P. Henry. What's the matter?

[He drinks.

Fal. What's the matter! here be four of us, have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal. Where is it? taken from us, it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Henry. What a hundred, man?

Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-fword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have escap'd by miracle. I am eight times thruft through the doublet, four through the hofe, my buckler cut through and through, my fword hack'd like a handfaw, ecce fignum. I never dealt better fince I was a man; all would not do. A plague of all cowards!-let them fpeak; if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains and the fons of darkness.

P. Henry. Speak, Sirs, how was it?

Gads. We four set upon some dozen.
Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord.
Gads. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew elfe, an Ebrew Jew.

Gads

Gads. As we were fharing, fome fix or seven fresh men fet

upon us.

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then came in the other.

7

P. Henry. What, fought you with them all?

Fal. All? I know not, what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of ra-t difh: if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legg'd creature.

Poins. Pray heav'n, you have not murdered fome

of them.

Fal. Nay, that's paft praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two, I am fure, I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram fuits. I tell thee what, Hal, If I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse; thou know'ft: my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me.

P. Henry. What, four? thou faid'ft but two, even

now.

Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four.

Poins. Ay, ay, he said four.

Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more ado, but took all their feven points in my target, thus,

P. Henry. Seven? why there were but four, even

Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram fuits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else.
P. Henry. Pr'ythee let him alone, we shall have

more anon.

Fal. Doft thou hear me, Hal?

P. Henry. Ay, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the liftning to: these nine in buckram, that I told thee of

P. Henry. So, two more already.
Fal. Their points being broken-
Poins. Down fell his hofe.