[Retires. P. Hen. I care not. Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go. Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time Farewell: you shall find me in want countenance. Eastcheap. [Exit. P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer! [Advances. Poins. Now my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself, and I, will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setting forth? Poins. Why, we will set forth before, or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner atchieved, but we'll set upon them. P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like, that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves. Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to inmask our noted outward garments. P. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, l'ıl for swear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest. P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me in Eastcheap. Fare well. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit. Who doth permit the base contagious clouds I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit. SCENE III. The Council Chamber. Flourish of Trumpets and Drums. KING HENRY, PRINCE JOHN, EARL OF WESTMORELAND, EARL OF WORCESTER, EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND, HOTSPUR, SIR W. BLUNT, SIR R. VERNON, and other GENTLEMEN, discovered. K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and tempe rate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me; for, accordingly, Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud. And that same greatness too, which our own hands Have holp to make so portly. North. My lord, K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye: O, sir, Your presence is too bold and peremptory; And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow. You have good leave to leave us when we need [Exit WORCESTER. Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. You were about to speak. North. Yea, my good lord. Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded, Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held He gave his nose, and took't away again ; And still he smil'd, and talk'd ; And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, With many holiday and lady terms, He question'd me; among the rest demanded I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, Out of my grief and my impatience, Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what; He should, or he should not; for he made me mad, To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman, Of guns, and drums, and wounds,(Heaven save the mark!) And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth And that it was great pity, so it was, And, I beseech you, let not his report Betwixt my love and your high majesty. Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said, To such a person, and in such a place, it now. K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners; That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight Hot. Revolted Mortimer! He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war:-To prove that true, Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, |