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:: P. Henry. And how doth thy mafter, Bardolph?

Bard. Well, my good Lord. He heard of, youž Grace's coming to town. There's a letter for you.

P. Henry. Deliver'd with good relpect ?--and how doth the Martlemas, your master? Six. joy

Bard. In bodily health, Sir.

Poins. Marry; the immortal part needs a phyfician; but that moves not him ; though thac be fick, it dies not.

P. Henry. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place: for-look you, how he writes...

[Gives Poins thaletter. Poins roads. 'John Falftaff, Knight,--Everyman must know that as often as he hath occafion to name himself: even like those that are kin to the King; for they never prick their finger but they fay, There is foane of the King's blood spilt. How comes that? fays he that takes upon him not to conceive: the answer is as ready as a borrower's cap; I am the King's poor conta

1907 P. Henry. Nay, they will be skin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet.. Buto to the letter. ... Poins. Sir Joha Falftaff, Knight, to the fon of the King, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Walesy greating. Why this is a certificate, P. Henry. Peace. so

Poins. I will imitate the honourable Roman * in brevity. Sure, he means brevity in breath; short-winded: I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I love thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misufes thy favours so much, that he fwears thou art to marry his fifter. Nell

. Repent at idle times as thou may't, and fol farewed: Thine, by yea and now which is as much as in fay, as thou useji him. Jack Falstaff with my familiars si John with my brothers and sisters: and Sir John with all Europe. My Lord, I will steep this letter in fack, and make him eat it.

1 ***99 de *P.Henry. That's to make him cat plenty.of his words, But do you use me thus, Ned? must I marry your ister?

fin, Sir.

* Meaning M. Brutus, who affected great brevity of style.

Mr. Warburtor.

Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune! But I never faid so.

P. Henry. Well, thus we play the fool with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. Is your master here in London?

Bard. Yes, my Lord.

P. Henry. Where sups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?

Bard. At the old place, my Lord, in East-cheap.
P. Henry. What company?
Page. Ephesians, my Lord, of the old church.
P. Henry. Sup any women with him ?

Page. Nonę, my Lord, but old Mrs. Quickly, and Mrs. Doll Tear-sheet.

P. Henry. What Pagan may that be? Page. A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinswoman of my master's

P. Henry. Even such kin as the parish-heifers are to the town-bull. Shall

upon them, Ned, at supper?

Poins. I am your shadow, my Lord, I'll follow you.

P. Henry. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word. to your master that I am yet come to town. There's for your filence.

Bard. I have no tongue, Sir.
Page. And for mine, Sir, I will govern it.

P. Henry. Fare ye well: go. This Doll Tear-sheet hould be some road. Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way between St. Alban's and London.

P. Henry. How might we fee Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be seen?

Poins. Put on two leather jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table, as drawers.

P. Henry. From a god to a bull ? a heavy descenfion. It was Jove's cafe. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation; that shall be mine: for in every thing, the purpose muft weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned.

[Exeunt.

wę steal

VOL.IV.

A a

SCENE

SCENE VI. Changes to Northumberland's castle. Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and

Lady Percy. North. I pr’ythee, loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough atfairs. Put not you on the visage of the times, And be like them to Percy, troubleiome.

L. North. I have given over, I will speak no more: Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide.

North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at pawn, And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.

L. Percy: Oh, yet, for heav'n's fake, go not to these

wars.

The time was, father, that you

broke

your word, When you were more endear'd to it than now; When your own Fercy, when my heart-dear Harry, Threw many a northward look, to see his father Bring up his pow'rs: but he did long in vain! Who then perfuaded you to stay at home? There were two honours lost, your's and your fon's. For your's, may heav'nly glory brighten it! For his, it stuck upon him as the sun In the grey vault of heav'n ; and by his light Did all the chivalry of England move To do brave acts. He was indeed the glass, Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. He had no legs that practis'd not his gait : And 'peaking thick, which Nature made his blemish, Became the accents of the valiant : For thole that could' ipeak low and tardily, Would iurn their own perfection to abuie, To seem like him. So that, in fpeech, in gait, In diet, in atrections of delight, In military rules, humours of blood, He was the mark and glass, copy and book, That fathiond others. And him, wond'rous him! O miracle of men! him did you leave (Second to none, unfeconded by you) To look upon the hideous god of war In disadvantage ; to abide a field, Where nothing but the found of Hot-fpur's name

Did

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Did seem defensible; so you left him.
Never, 0, never did his ghost the wrong,
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others, than with him. Let them alone.
The marshal and the archbishop are strong
Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers,
* o-day might I (hanging on Hotspur's neck)
“ Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

North. Befhrew your heart,
Fair daughter; you do draw my spirits from mic,
With new-lamenting ancient oversights.
But I must go and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.

L. North. Fly to Scotland,
Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puissance made a little taste.

L. Percy. If they get ground and'vantage of the king,
Then join you with them, like a rib of iteel,
To make strength stronger. But for all our loves,
Firit let them try themielves. So did your son:
He was so suffer'd; fo came I a widow;
And never shall have length of life enough,
To rain upon remembrance * with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heav'n,
For recordation to my noble husband.

North. Come, come, go in with me: ’tis with my As with the tide (welled up into his height, [mind That makes a Itill-Itand, running neither way. Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop, But many

thouiand reasons hold me back: I will resolve for Scotland; there ain I. Till time and ’vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.

S CE N E VII.
Changes to the Boar's-head tavern in East-cheap.

Enter two Drawers. i Draw. What the devil halt thou brought there? Apple-Johns ? thou know'st Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John. * Allysing to the plant rosemary, so called, and used in funerals.

2 Draw.

A a 2

2 Draw. Mass! thou savest true; the Prince once fet a difh of Apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, faid, I will now take my leave of thefe fix dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart; but he hath forgot that.

i Draw. Why then, cover, and set them down; and see if thou can'lt find out Sneak’s nose; Mrs. Tear-sheet would fain hear son:e music. Dispatch! the room where they fup is too hot, they'll come in straight.

2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the Prince, and Master Poins anon; and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

i Draw. Then here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent fratagem, 2 Draw. I'll see if I can find out Sneak. [Exeunt.

SCENE 'VIII. Enter Hoftefs and Dol. Hoft. I'faith, sweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulfidge beats as extraordinary as heart would defire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any role: but, i'faith, you have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous searching wine; and it perfumes the blood ere we can say what's this. How do you now!

Dol. Better than I was: hem.

Hoft. Why, that was well said : a good heart's worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John.

Enter Falstaff. Fal. When Arthur first in court.-empty the jourden

and was a worthy King. How now, Mrs. Dol. - Hoft. Sick of a calm: yea, good footh.

Fal. So is all her sect; if they be once in a calm, they are fick.

Dol. You muddy rascal, is that all the comfort you give me?

Fal. You make fat rascals, Mrs. Dol. -Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not. Fal. If the cook make the gluttony, you help to

make

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