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 Weftmoreland set forth to-day; With him my fon, lord John of Lancaster ;

For this advertisement is five days old :

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou fhalt fet forward:
On Thursday, we ourselves will march :

Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you

Shall march through Gloftershire; by which account,
Our business valued, fome twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of bufinefs: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat, while men delay.

[Exeunt.

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

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

by which account, our bufinefs valued,]-according to this calculation of our affairs.

ma brewer's borse ;]-the crofs beam, whereon beer barrels are fufpended for the cafier carriage.

Fal. Why, there is it :-come, fing me a bawdy song, to make me merry. I was as virtuously given, as a gen. tleman need to be; virtuous enough: fwore little; dic'd, not above seven 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 compass.

Bard. Why, you are fo fat, fir John, that you must needs be out of all compafs; out of all reasonable com‐ pass, fir 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, fir 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: Į never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived 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 fon of utter darknefs. When thou ran'ft up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wild-fire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual " triumph, an everlafting bonfire light! Thou haft faved me a thousand 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

triumpb,]-fplendid ftate fhow,

lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintained that falamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven 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 enquir'd yet, who pick'd my pocket?

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

Fal, You lie, hoftefs; Bardolph was shav'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.

Hoft. No, fir John; you do not know me, fir John: I know you, fir John: you owe me money, fir 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 bolters of them.

Hoft. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight fhillings an ell. You owe money here befides, fir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings; and money lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay.

as good cheap,]-as good a pennyworth, at as easy a rate, upon as moderate terms,

M m 4

Hoft.

Hoft. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing.

Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them "coin his nofe, let them coin his cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of me? shall I not take mine ease 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, I have heard the prince tell him, I know not how oft, the ring was copper.

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack, a fneak-cup; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

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

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

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

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

P. Henry. What say'st thou, mistress 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 bawdyhoufe, they pick pockets.

P. Henry. What didst thou lose, Jack?

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four bonds

coin his nofe,]-the actors of fuch characters, whofe nofes were a standing joke, wore artificial ones.

I will you make a younker of me?]-do you mean to gull me?

* take mine ease in mine inn,]-leep fecurely; alluding to the old maxim, "Every man's boufe is bis cafile."

copper.]-fuch rings, thinly plated with gold, were common about the time mentioned.

of

of forty pound 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 said, I heard your grace fay fo: And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouth'd man as he is; and faid, he would cudgel you.

P. Henry. What! he did not?

Hoft. There's neither faith, truth, nor woman-hood in me else.

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in 'a ftew'd prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in "a drawn fox; and for woman-hood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

W

Hoft. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Hoft. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should't know it; I am an honeft man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo. Fal. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beast to fay otherwise.

Hoft. Say, what beaft, thou knave thou?

Fal. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Henry. An otter, fir John? why an otter?

Fal. Why? fhe's neither fish, nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her.

Hoft. Thou art an unjust man in saying fo; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

a flew'd prune ;]-whofe infipidity belies its appearance.

a drawn fox ;]-a dead one, drawn over the grounds for the exercife of the dogs, who are deceived by its scent.

"woman-bood, maid Marian may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee.]'tis very questionable-the name of Robin Hood's mistress; the lady of the May, or Morris dance, generally reprefented by a man.

P. Henry.