Fran. Forfooth, five years, and as much as toPoins. Francis Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. Five years; by'rlady, a long leafe for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, darest thou be fo valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, and fhew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it? Fran. O Lord, Sir, I'll be fworn upon all the books in England I could find in my heartPoins. Francis, Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. How old art thou, Francis? Fran. Let me fee, about Michaelmas next I fhall be Poins. Francis, Fran. Anon, Sir.-Pray you stay a little, my Lord. P. Henry. Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the fugar thou gavest me, 'twas a penny worth, was't not? Fran. O Lord, I would it had been two. P. Henry. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: afk me when thou wilt, and thou fhalt have it, Poins. Francis, Fran. Anon, anon. P. Henry. Anon, Francis? no, Francis; but tomorrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,Fran. My Lord? P. Henry. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, cryftal-button, knot-pated, agat-ring, puke-ftock. ing, caddice garter, fmooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch. Fran. O Lord, Sir, who do you mean? P. Henry. Why then your brown baftard is your only drink; for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will fully. In Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to fo much. Fran. What, Sir? Poins. Francis, P. Henry. Away, you rogue, dost thou not hear them call? [Here they both call; the drawer ftands amazed, not knowing which way to go. Enter Vintner. Vint. What, ftand'st thou ftill, and hear'ft fuch a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit Drawer.} My Lord, old Sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door: fhall I let them in ? P. Henry. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. [Exit Vintner.] Poins, Enter Poins. Poins. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. Sirrah, Falstaff and the reft of the thieves are at the door; fhall we be merry? Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye, what cunning match have you made with this jeft of the drawer? come, what's the issue? P. Henry. I am now of all humours, that have fhew'd themselves humours, fince the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this prefent twelve o'clock at midnight. What's o'clock, Francis ? Fran. Anon, anon, Sir. P. Henry. That ever this fellow fhould have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the fon of a woman!-His industry is up ftairs and down stairs; his eloquence the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hot-spur of the north; he that kills me fome fix or feven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and fays to his wife, Fy upon this quiet life! I want work. O my fweet Harry, fays the, how many haft thou kill'd to-day? Give my roan horfe a drench, says he, and anfwers, fome fourteen, an hour after; a trifle, a trifle. I pr'ythee, call in Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn fhall play dame Mortimer his wife. Ribi, fays the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow. SCENE IX. Enter Falstaff, Gads-hill, Bardolph, and Peto. Poins. Welcome, Jack; where haft thou been? Fal. A plague on all cowards, I fay, and a vengeance too, marry and amen!-Give me a cup of fack, boy-Ere I lead this life long, I'll fow nether focks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague on all cowards! Give me a cup of fack, rogue.Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks. P. Henry. Didft thou never see Titan kiss a difh of butter, (pitiful-hearted Titan!), that melted at the fweet tale of the fun? if thou didst, then behold that compound. Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this fack too: there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man; yet a coward is worse than a cup of fack with lime in it; a villainous coward-Go`thy ways, old Jack, die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forget upon the face of the earth, then am I a fhotten herring. There live not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them is fat, and grows old, God help, the while! a bad world, I fay I would I were a weaver *; I could fing all manner of fongs.-A plague on all cowards, I fay ftill! P. Henry. How now, Woolfack, what mutter you? Fal. A King's fon! if I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy fubjects afore thee like a flock of wild geefe, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales! P Henry. Why, you whorefon round nfan! what's the matter? Fal. Are you not a coward? anfwer me to that, and Poins there? [To Poins. P. Henry Ye fat paunch, an ye call me coward, I'll ftab thee. Fal I call thee coward! I'll fee thee damn'd ere In the perfecutions of the Proteftants in Flanders under Philip II. thofe who came over into England on that occafion, brought with them the woollen manufactory. Thefe were Calvinifts, who were always diftinguished for their love of pfalmody. Warburton. I call thee coward; but I would give a thoufand pound I could run as faft as thou canst. You are trait enough in the fhoulders, you care not who fees your back. Call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon fuch backing! give me them that will face me-Give me a cup of fack; I am a rogue if I drunk to-day. P. Henry. O villain, thy lips are scarce wip'd fince thou drunk'ft last. Fal. All's one for that. A plague on all cowards, ftill fay I! P. Henry. What's the matter? [He drinks. Fal. What's the matter! here be four of us have ta'en a thousand pound this morning. P. Henry. Where is it, Jack? where is it? Fal Where is it? taken from us it is. A hundred upon poor four of us. P. Henry. What, a hundred, man? Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half-fword with a dozen of them two hours together. I have escap'd by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hofe, my buckler cut through and through, my fword hack'd like a handfaw, ecce fignum. [Shows his fword.] I never dealt better fince I was a man.-All would not do. A plague on all cowards!--Let them fpeak; if they Ipeak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the fons of darkness. P. Henry. Speak, Sirs, how was it? Gads. And bound them. Peto. No, no, they were not bound. Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. Gads. As we were sharing, fome fix or seven fresh men fet upon us. Fal. And unbound the reft, and then came in the other. P. Henry. What, fought ye with them all? Fal. All? I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radifh if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legg'd crea ture. Poins. Pray Heav'n you have no tmurdered fome of them. Fal. Nay, that's paft praying for. I have pepper'd two of them; two, I am fure, I have pay'd, two rogues in buckram fuits. I tell thee what, Hal; if I tell thee a lie, fpit in my face, call me horfe. Thou know'ft my old ward; here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me. P. Henry. What, four? thou saidst but two even now. Fal. Four, Hal, I told thee four. Poins. Ay, ay, he said four. Fal. Thefe four came all a-front, and mainly thruft at me; I made no more ado, but took all their feven points in my target, thus. P. Henry. Seven! why, there were but four even now. Fal. In buckram. Poins. Ay, four in buckram fuits. Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. P. Henry. Prythee let him alone, we shall have more anon. Fal. Doft thou hear me, Hal? P. Henry, Ay, and mark thee too, Jack. Fal. Do fo, for it is worth the liftning to. These nine in buckram, that I told thee of P. Henry. So, two more already. Fal. Their points being broken- Fal. Began to give ground; but I follow'd me clofe, came foot and hand; and, with a thought, feven of the eleven I pay'd. P. Henry. O monftrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! Fal. But as the devil would have it, three mifbegotten knaves in Kendal-green came at my back, and let drive at me; (for it was fo dark, Hal, that thou couldst not fee thy hand.) |