doft thou think I'll fear thee as I fear thy father; nay, if I do, let my gridle break !

P. Henry. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees ! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, 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 whorson, impudent, imboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor penny-worth of fugarcandy to make thee long-winded; if thy pocket were enrich'd with any other injuries but there, I am a villain ; and yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrong's.

Art thou not asham'd ? Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal ? thou know'st, in the state of innocency Adam fell : and what snould poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villany? thou feest, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frail, ty. You confess, then, you pick'd my pocket?

P. Henry. It appears fo by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee : go make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy fervants, and cherish thy guests : thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason : thou feelt, I am pacify'd still. Nay, I pr'ythee, be gone.

[Exit Hoftefs. Now, Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad;

-how is that answer'd ? P. Henry. O my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying back; ʼtis a double labour.

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

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou do'st, and do it with unwash'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 shall I find one that can steal well? 0, for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout; I am heinously unprovided.

Well,

Well, God be thank'd for these 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 Laneaster, to my brother John; this to my Lord of Westmorland. Go, Peto, to horse, 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 shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive money and order for their furniture. The land is burning, Percy stands on high; And either they or we must lower lie. Fal. Rare words ! brave world! Hostess,

my

breakfast, come: Oh, I could wish this tavern were my drum! [Exeunt.

ACT

IV.

SCE N E

I.

Changes to Shrewsbury. Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Douglas. Hot. 7 Ell said, my Scot; if speaking truth,

In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribụtion should the Douglas have, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should

go so gen'ral current 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.

Doug. Thou art the King of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.

Enter a Messenger. Hot. Do, and 'tis well. -What letters hast thou

there?
I can but thank you.

Mel. These come from your father,
Hot. Letters from him ? why comes he not himself?

Меді.

Mel. He cannot come, my Lord, he's grievous fick.

Fot. Heav'ns ! how has he the leisure to be fick
In such a juftling time? who leads his power ;
Under whose government come they along?

Mel. His letters bear his mind, not I.
Hot. His mind!
Wor. I pr’ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed ?

Mej. He did, my Lord, four days ere I set forth:
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by fickness 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 enterprise ; 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. He writes me here, that inward fickness And that his friends by deputation Could not so soon be drawn: nor thought he meet To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On

any soul remov’d, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we should on,
To see how Fortune is dispos'd to us :
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now;
Because the King is certainly poffefs'd
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.

Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it.

Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast; to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good; for therein should we read
The very bottom, and the soul of hope,
The very lift, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Doug. 'Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains a sweet reversion.
We now may boldly spend upon the hope
Of what is to come in:

This

A comfort of retirement lives in this. ,

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to Ay unto, If that the devil and mischance 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 division : it would be thought By some, that know not why he is away, That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence, And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction, And breed a kind of question in our cause: For well you know, we of th' offending fide Must keep aloof from strict arbitriment; And stop all light-holes, every loop, from whence The eye

of reaton may pry in upon us. absence of your father draws a curtain, That shews the ignorant a kind of fear Before not dream'd upon.

Hot. You strain too far,
I rather of his absence make this use :
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger 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 ihall o'erturn it toply-turvy down.
Yet all
goes

all our joints are whole. Doug. As heart can think; there is not such a word Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

SCENE II. Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hot. My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul !

Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earl of .. eltmorland, seven thousand itrong,
Is marching hither, with Prince John of Lancatter.

Hot. No harm;, what more?

Ver. And further, I have learn'd,
The King himself in person hath fet forth,
Or hitherwards intended fpeedily,
With itrong and mighty preparation.
VOL.!V.
S

Hot.

well, yet

Hot. He Mall be welcome too: where is his fon,
The nimble-footed mad-cap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daft the world aside,
And bid it país?

Ver. All furnilh’d, all in arms,
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 fun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. .
I saw young Harry with his beaver up,
His cuilles on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feather’d Mercury;
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And witch t the world with noble horsemanship.
Hot. No more, no more ; worse than the sun in

March,
This praise doth nourish agues ; let them conie.
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoaky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them.
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me like a thunder-bolt,
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry shall not horse 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.

Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Hor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty found.
Hot. What may the King's whole battle rcach unto?
Ver. To thirty thousand.
* i e. fiutter'd the wings. Mr. Pupe.

i.e. bewitch, charm. Mi, Pope,

Hot.