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And in the elofing of fome glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your fon;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favour in a bloody mask,

Which, wath'd away, fhall fcour my fhame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this fame child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hot-fpur, this all-praised Knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet.
For every honour fitting on his helm,

'Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My fhames redoubled! for the time will come,
That shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my Lord,
Tingrofs up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And will call him to fo strict account,
That he fhall render every glory up,
Yea, even the flightest worthip of his time,
Or I will tear the reck'ning from his heart.
This in the name of heav'n I promise here:
The which, if I perform, and do furvive,
I do befeech your Majefty, may falve
The long grown wounds of my intemperature:
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the fmallest parcel of this vow.

KHenry A hundred thoufand rebels die in this!
Thou shalt have charge, and fovereign truft herein.
1901]
Enter Blunt.

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of fpeed.
Blunt. So is the bufinefs that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath fent word,'

That Douglas and the English rebels met
Th' eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury.

A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,

As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K Henry. The Earl of Westmorland fet forth to-day, With him my fon, Lord John of Lancaster;

For this advertisement is five days old.

VOL. IV.

R

On

:

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou fhalt fet forward.'
On Thursday, we ourselves will march our meeting
Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you shall march
Thro' Glo'ftershire: by which, fome twelve days hence,
Our general forces at Bridgnorth fhall meet.
Our hands are full of bufinefs: let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while we delay.

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[Exeunt:

Changes to the Boar's head tavern in Eaft-cheap.
Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. Bardelph, am not I fall'n away vilely, fince this laft action? Do I not 'bate? do I not dwindle? why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown. I am wither'd like an old apple, John. Well, I'll res pent, and that fuddenly, while I am in fome liking. I fhall be out of heart fhortly, and then I shall have no ftrength to repent. An' I have not forgotten what the infide of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horfe; the infide of a church! company, villanous company hath been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are fo fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it; come, fing me a bawdy fong, to make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; fwore little; diced not above feven times a-week; went to a bawdy. house not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid money that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compafs.

Bard. Why, you are fo fat, Sir John, that you muit needs be out of all compafs, out of all reasonable compass, Sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou beareft the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nofe of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be fworn; I make as good use of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a Memento mori.

I never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would fwear by thy face; my oath fhould be By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou rann'ft up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horfe, if I did not think thou had'ft been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light; thou haft faved me a thoufand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the fack that thou haft drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the deareft chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of your's with fire, any time this two and thirty years, heav'n reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly, Fal. God-a-mercy! fo fhould I be fure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hoftefs.

How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you inquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hoft. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have fearch'd, I have inquir'd, fo has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, fervant by fervant: the tithe of a hair was never loft in my houfe before.

Fal. Ye lye, hoftefs; Bardolph was fhav'd, and loft many a hair; and I'll be fworn, my pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a woman, go.

Hoft. Who I? I defy thee; I was never call'd fo in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Heft. No, Sir John: you do not know me, Sir John I know you, Sir John; you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters of them. Heft. Now, as I am a true woman, Holland of eight hillings an ell. You owe money here befides, Sir John,

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for

for your diet, and by-drinkings, and money-lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. Hed ha his part of it, let him pay.

Hoft. He alas! he is poor, he hath nothing.

Fal. How, poor? look upon his face: what call you rich let him coin his nofe, let him coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker 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 grandfather'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.

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Enter Prince Henry marching, and Peto playing on his truncheon like a fife. Falstaff meets them.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door? muft we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion.

Hoft. My Lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Henry. What fay't thou, Miftrefs 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 pick'd. This houfe is turn'd bawdy-house, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didft thou lofe, 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 moft vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is; and faid, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry. What! he did not?

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Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me elfe.

Fal. 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 womanhood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing?

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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 beaft to fay otherwise.

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 fleih; a man knows not where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in faying 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 grofsly.

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

P. Henry. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thoufand 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 1, Bardolph ?

Bar. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo.

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

P. Henry. I fay, 'tis copper. Dar'st thou be as good as thy word now?

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

*A fox that hath been often hunted,

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