you rich? let him coin his nofe, let him coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a yonker of me? fhall I not take mine eafe in mine inn, but I fhall have my pocket pick'd? I have loft a feal-ring of my grand-father's, worth forty mark.

Hoft. O Jefu! I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How? the Prince is a Jack, a fneak-up; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would fay fo.

SCENE VI.

Enter Prince Henry marching, and Peto playing on his Truncheon like a Fife: Falstaff meets them.

Fal.

H muft we all march?

OW now, lad? is the wind in that door?
W now, lad? is the

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion."
Hoft. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Henry. What say't thou, Mistress Quickly? how does thy husband? I love him well, he is an honest

man.

Hoft. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and lift to me.'

P. Henry. What fay'ft thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket pickt: this houfe is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didft thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds of forty pounds a-piece, and a feal-ring of my grandfather's.

P. Henry. A trifle, fome eight-penny matter.

Hoft. So I told him, my lord; and I faid, I heard your grace fay fo; and, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is, and faid, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry

P. Henry. What! che did not?

Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me else.

Falo There's no more faith in thee than in a stew'd prune; no more truth in thee than in a drawn Fox; and for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal, What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Hoft. I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou - fhould't know it: I am an honeft man's wife; and, fetting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beast to fay otherwife.

Hoft. Say, what beaft, thou knave, thou?

Fal. What beaft? why, an Otter.

P. Henry. An Otter, Sir John, why an Otter? Fal. Why? fhe's neither fish nor flesh; a man knows no where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in saying fo: thou, or any man knows where to have me; thou knave, thou!

P. Henry. Thou fay'ft true, hoftefs, and he flanders thee moft grofly.

Hoft. So he doth you, my lord, and faid this other day, you ow'd him a thoufand pound.

P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million; thy love is worth a million: thou ow'ft me thy love.

Hoft. Nay, my lord, he call'd you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo.

Fal. Yea, if he faid, my ring was copper.

P. Henry. I fay, 'tis copper.

good as thy word now ?

Dart thou be as

Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'st, as thou art but a

man

man, I dare; but as thou art a Prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the Lion's whelp.

P. Henry. And why not as the Lion?

Fal. The King himself is to be fear'd as the Lion; doft thou think, I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father? nay, if I do, let my Girdle break!

P. Henry. O, if it fhould, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honefty, in this bofom of thine; it is all fill'd up with guts and midriff. Charge an honeft woman with picking thy pocket! why, thou whorefon, impudent, imbofs'd rafcal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Memorandums of bawdy-houfes, and one poor pennyworth of fugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but these, I am a villain; aud yet you will ftand to it, you will not pocket up wrongs. Art thou not alham'd?

Fal, Doft thou hear, Hal? thou know'ft in the state of innocency, Adam fell: and what fhould poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? thou feeft, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty. You confefs then, you pickt my pocket? P. Henry. It appears fo by the ftory.

Fal. Hoftefs, I forgive thee: go make ready Breakfaft; love thy husband, look to thy fervants, and cherilh thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honeft reafon: thou feeft, I am pacify'd ftill. Nay, I pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hoftefs.

Now, Hal, to the news at Court: for the robbery, lad, how is That anfwer'd?

P. Henry. O my fweet beef, I must ftill be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis a double labour.

P. Henry. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doft,` and do it with unwafh'd hands too.

Bard. Do, my lord..

P. Henry. I have procur'd thee, Jack, a Charge of foot.

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where fhall I find one, that can fteal well? O, for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout; I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thank'd for thefe rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Henry. Bardolph,
Bard. My lord?

P. Henry. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancafter, to my brother John. This to my lord of Weftmorland; go, Peto, to horfe; for thou and I have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner time. Jack, meet me to-morrow in the Temple-Hall at two o'clock in the afternoon, there fhalt thou know thy charge, and there receive money and order for their furniture. The Land is burning, Percy ftands on high; And either they, or we, must lower lie.

Fal. Rare words! brave world! hoftefs, my break

faft, come:

Oh, I could wish, this tavern were my drum!

[Exeunt,

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Changes to SHREWSBURY.

Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Dowglas.

WEL

HOT-SPUR.

7ELL faid, my noble Scot, if speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribution fhould the Dowglas have,

As

As not a foldier of this season's stamp

Should go fo gen'ral currant through the World.
By heav'n, I cannot flatter: I defy

The tongues of foothers. But a braver place
In my heart's love hath no man than yourself.
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
Dowg. Thou art the King of honour:
No man fo potent breathes upon
But I will beard him.

Enter a Messenger.

the ground,

Hot. Do, and 'tis well-What letters haft thou there?

I can but thank you.

Melf. Thefe come from your father.

Hot. Letters from him? why comes he not himself? Me. He cannot come, my lord, he's grievous fick. Hot. Heav'ns! how has he the leifure to be fick In fuch a juftling time? who leads his Power; Under whofe government come they along? * Meff. His letters bear his mind, not I. Hot. His

mind!

Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Meff. He did, my lord, four days ere I fet forth: And at the time of my departure thence,

He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the ftate of time had firft been whole,' Ere he by sickness had been visited;

His health was never better worth than now.

Hot. Sick now? droop now? this fickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprize;

'Tis catching hither, even to our Camp.

*Meff. His letters bear his mind, not I his mind,] The Line fhould' be read and divided thus,

Melf. His Letters bear his Mind, not I. Hot. His Mind!

Hot-fpur had asked who leads his Power? The Meffenger answers,
His Letters bear his Mind. The other replies, His Mind!

As much as to say, I enquire not about his Mind, I want to know where his Powers are. This is natural, and perfectly in Character,

He