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P. Hen. An otter, Sir John? why an otter?
Fal. Why she's neither fish, nor fesh; a knows not where to have her.
Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!
P. Hen. Thou say'st true, Hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.
Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.
P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound?
Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million : thou ow'st me thy love.
Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.
Fal. Did I, Bardolph ?
P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: dar’st thou be as good as thy word now?
Fal. Why, Hal, thou know'st as thou art but man, I dare; but, as thou art prince, I fear thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.
P. Hen. And why not, as the lion ?
Fal. The king himself is to be fear'd as the lion : dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an if I do, let my girdle break!
P. Hen. Oh, it it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees ! Charye an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, imboss'd rascal, if there were any thing in thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums of bawdy houses, and one poor penny-worth of sugar-candy to make thee long winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrong: Art thou not ashamed?
Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou know'st, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should poor
Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thou seest, I have more flesh than another man; and, therefore, more frailty.--You confess, then, you picked my pocket?
P. Hen. It appears so, by the story.
Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast: love thy husband, look to thy servants, and chcrish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason; thou seest, I am pacify’d.-Still:Nay, I pr’ythee, begone. (Exit Hostess.] Now, Hal, to the news at court : for the robbery, lad—How is that answered ?
P. Hen. The money is paid back again. 'Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.
P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.
Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too.
Bard. Do, my lord.
P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.
Fal. I would it had been of horse! Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts ! I am heinously unprovided. Well, Heaven be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them. P. Hen. Bardolph, Bard. My lord. P. Hen. Go, bear this letter to Lord John of Lan
caster, My brother John ; this to my Lord of Westmoreland.
[Exit BARDOLPH. Jack, Meet me to-morrow in the Temple Hall, At two o'clock i'the afternoon : There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there receive
Money, and order for their furniture.
[Exit the Prince. Fal. Rare words! brave world!
Hostess, my breakfast! come: O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum! [Erit.
ACT THE FOURTH.
Hotspur's Camp, near Shrewsbury.
Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.
Enter EARL OF DOUGLAS, HOTSPUR, EARL OF
WORCESTER, GENTLEMEN, and SOLDIERS.
Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought Aattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. By Heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy The tongues of soothers; but a braver place In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour:
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
Hot. Do so, and 'tis well :
father. Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not him
Rab. His letters bear his mind, not I.
Rab. He did, 'my lord, four days ere I set forth;
What say you to it?
It will be thought
Hot. You strain too far.
word Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.
[A Trumpet sounds.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon, and Two
GentleMEN. Hot. My cousin Vernon ! welcome, by my soul ! Ver. 'Pray Heaven, my news be worth a welcome,
lord ! The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards; with him, Prince John.
Hot. No harm : What more?
Ver. And further, I have learn'd,-
Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,