fetting thy knighthood afide, thou art a knave to call me fo.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood afide, thou art a beast to fay otherwife.

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 flesh; a man knows not where to have her.

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

P. Henry. Thou fay'ft true, hoftefs, and he flanders thee moft grossly.

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 I, Bardolph ?

Bard. Indeed, Sir John, you faid fo.

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

P. Henry. I fay, 'tis copper. Dar'ft 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; doft thou think, I'll fear thee, as I fear thy father? nay, if I do, let my Girdle break!

P. Henry. O, if it fhould, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, Sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honefty, 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 whorfon,

impudent,

impudent, imbofs'd rafcal, 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 thefe, I am a villain. And yet you will ftand to it, you will not pocket up wrongs. Art thou not asham'd?

Fal. Doft thou hear, Hal? thou know'ft in the state of innocency, Adam fell: and what fhould poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villainy? Thou feeft, I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty. You confefs then, you pickt my pocket? P. Henry. It appears fo by the story.

Fal. Hoftefs, I forgive thee; go make ready Breakfast. Love thy husband, look to thy fervants, and cherish thy guests; thou fhalt find me tractable to any honeft reafon. Thou feeft, I am pacify'd ftill.-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 fweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying back; 'tis 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'ft, and do it with unwafh'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 fhall I

find one, that can steal well? O, for a fine thief, of two and twenty, or thereabout; I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thank'd for thefe 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 Lancafter, to my brother John. This to my Lord of Westmorland; go.-Peto, to horfe; 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 fhalt thou know thy charge, and there receive mony and order for their furniture. The Land is burning, Percy ftands on high;

And either they, or we, muft lower lie.

Fal. Rare words! brave world! Hoftefs, my breakfast, come.

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

ACT IV.

IV. SCENE I.

Changes to SHREWSBURY.

Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, and Dowglas.

W

HOT-SPUR.

ELL faid, my noble Scot. If fpeaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribution fhould the Dowglas have,

As not a foldier of this feafon's stamp

Should go fo gen'ral current through the World.

2 Peto, to horse ; ] I cannot but think that Peto is again put for Poins. I fuppofe the copy had only a P. We

have Peto afterwards, not riding with the Prince, but lieutenant to Fallaff.

By

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 yourfelf:
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, Lord.
Dewg. Thou art the King of honour;

No man fo potent breathes

But I will beard him-

upon the ground,

Hot. Do fo, and 'tis well

Enter a Meffenger.

What letters haft thou there?.

I can but thank you.

Mel. Thefe letters come from your father. Hot. Letters from him? why comes he not himfelf? Meff. He cannot come, my lord, he's grievous fick. Hot. Heav'ns! how has he the leifure to be fick In fuch a juftling time? who leads his Pow'rs? Under whofe government come they along? Melf. His letters bear his mind, not I.

Hot. His mind!

Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Melf. He did, my lord, four days ere I fet forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the ftate of time had first been whole, Ere he by fickness had been vifited;

His health was never better worth than now.

Hot. Sick now? droop now? this fickness doth infect

The very life-blood of our enterprife;

'Tis catching hither, even to our Camp.

3 Meff. His letters bear his mind, not I his mind.] The line fhould be read and divided thus, Melf. H's letters bear his mind,

I. Hot. His mind! Hatur had alked who leads his pur? The Meerger anfwers,

His letters lear his mind. The other replics, H's mind! As much as to fay, I inquire not about his mind, I want to know where his powers are. This is natural, and perfectly in characWARBURTON.

ter.

He writes me here, that inward fickness.
And that his friends by deputation

Could not fo foon be drawn; nor thought he meet
To lay fo dangerous and dear a Truft

* On any foul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we should on,
To fee how fortune is difpos'd to us;

For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainly possest

Of all our purposes. What fay you to it?
Wor. Your father's fickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gafh, a very limb lopt off.
And yet, in faith, 'tis not-His present want
Seems more than we fhall find it. Were it good,
To fet the exact wealth of all our ftates
All at one Caft; to fet fo 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 foul of hope,
The very lift, the very utmost Bound
Of all our fortunes.

Dowg. Faith, and fo we should;
Where now remains a fweet reverfion.
We now may boldly spend upon the hope
Of what is to come in :

"A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the Devil and Mischance look big

can think on no other word than
rifque.

Therein fhould we rifque
The very bottom, &c.

The lift is the felvage; figura
tively, the utmoft line of circum-
ference, the utmost extent.
• A comfort of retirement.] A
fupport to which we may
recourse.

have