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He writes me here, that inward ficknefs-
And that his friends by deputation

Could not fo foon be drawn: nor thought he meet
To lay fo dangerous and dear a Trust
On any foul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we should on,
To fee how fortune is difpos'd to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now;
Because the King is certainly poffeft

Of all our purposes. What fay you to it?
Wor. Your father's fickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perillous gash, a very limb lopt off:
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his prefent want
Seems more than we fhall find it. Were it good,

To fet the exact wealth of all our states
All at one Gaft; to set so rich à Main

On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good; for therein should we read
The very bottom, and the foul of hope,
The very lift, the very utmost Bound

Of all our fortunes.

Dowg. Faith, and fo we fhould;

Where now remains a fweet reverfion.
We now may boldly spend upon the hope
Of what is to come in:

A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the Devil and Mifchance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. Wor. But yet I would your father had been here: The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no divison: it will be thought By fome, that know not why he is away, That wifdom, loyalty, and mere diflike Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence. And think, how fuch an apprehenfion May turn the tide of fearful faction,

And

And breed a kind of question in our caufe:
For well you know, we of th' offending fide
Muft keep aloof from ftrict arbitrement;

And ftop all fight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reafon may pry in upon us :
This abfence of your father draws a curtain,
That fhews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt upon.

Hot. You ftrain too far.

I rather of his absence make this use:
It lends a luftre, and more great opinion,
A large Dare to our great enterprise,

Than if the Earl were here: for men must think,
If we without his help can make a head,

To push against the Kingdom; with his help,
We shall o'erturn it topfy-turvy down.

Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Dowg. As heart can think; there is not fuch a word
Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

Hot.

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Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

Y coufin Vernon, welcome, by my foul!

My fou pray God, my news be worth a wel

come, lord.

The Earl of Westmorland, fev'n thousand strong,
Is marching hither, with Prince John of Lancaster.
Hot. No harm; what more?

Ver. And further, I have learn'd,

The King himself in perfon hath fet forth,

Or hitherwards intended speedily,

With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He fhall be welcome too: where is his fon?

The nimble-footed mad-cap Prince of Wales,

And his comrades, that daft the world afide

And bid it pass?

Ver. All furnisht, all in arms,

All

All plum'd like Eftridges, that with the wind
Baited like Eagles, having lately bath'd:
Glittering in golden coats like images,
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the Sun at Midfummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I faw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuiffes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rife from the ground like feather'd Mercury;
And vaulted with fuch ease into his seat,
As if an Angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegafus,

And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

Hot. No more, no more; worse than the Sun in
March,

This praise doth nourish agues; let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them.
The mailed Mars fhall on his altar fit
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprifal is so nigh,

And yet not ours. Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me, like a thunder-bolt,
Against the bofom of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry hall (not horfe to horse)
Meet, and ne'er part, 'till One drop down a coarse.
Oh, that Glendower were come!

Ver. There is more news:

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,

He cannot draw his Pow'r this fourteen days.
Dowg. That's the worft tidings that I hear of, yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frofty found.
Hot. What may the King's whole Battle reach unto?
Ver. To thirty thousand.

Hot. Forty let it be;

My father and Glendower being both away,
The Pow'r of us may ferve fo great a day.

Come,

Come, let us take a mufter speedily:
Dooms-day is near; die all, die merrily.
Dowg. Talk not of dying, I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half

Fal.

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Changes to a Public Road, near Coventry.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

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year.

Exeunt.

ARDOLPH, get thee before to Coventry, fill me a bottle of fack our foldiers fhall march through: we'll to Sutton-cop-hill to-night. Bard. Will you give me money, captain? Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Fal. And if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll anfwer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's

end.

Bard. I will, captain; farewel. 1

[Exit. Fal. If I be not afham'd of my foldiers, I am a fowc'd gurnet: I have mif-us'd the King's Prefs damnably. I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty foldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I prefs me none but good houfholders, yeomens' fons; enquire me out contracted bachelors, fuch as had been afk'd twice on the banes: fuch a commodity of warm flaves, as had as lieve hear the devil, as a drum; fuch as fear the report of a culverin, worse than a ftruck deer, or a hurt wild duck! I prefs me none but fuch toafts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no big ger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their fervices and now my whole Charge confifts of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, flaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the Glutton's dogs licked his fores: and fuch VOL. V.

E

as

as indeed were never foldiers, but difcarded unjuft fervingmen, younger fons to younger brothers; revolted tapfters, and oftlers trade-fall'n, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace; ten times more difhonourably ragged, than an old-feaft ancient; and fuch have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their fervices; that you would think, I had a hundred and fifty tatter'd Prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and hufks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and prest the dead bodies. No eye hath feen fuch fkare-crows : I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had* gyves on; for, indeed, I had the moft of them out of prifon. There's but a fhirt and a half in all my company; and the half fhirt is two napkins tack'd together, and thrown over the fhoulders like a herald's coat without fleeves; and the shirt, to fay the truth ftoll'n from my Hoft of St. Albans; or the red-nos'd Inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one, they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter Prince Henry, and Weftmorland.

P. Henry. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt? Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag, what a devil doft thou in Warwickshire? My good lord of Weftorland, I cry you mercy; I thought, your Honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

Weft. 'Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, andy you too; but my Powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all to-night.

I

Fal. Tut, never fear me, I am as vigilant, as a Cat to fteal cream.

P. Henry. I think, to fteal cream, * gyves on ;] i. e. Shakles.

indeed; for thy

Mr. Popes

theft

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