P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis; but to-morrow, Francis; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,

Fran. My lord!

P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, crystalbutton, nott-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddisgarter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch

Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean?

P. Hen. Why, then, your brown bastard is your only drink; for, look you, Francis, your white canvass doublet will sully; in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

Fran. What, sir?

Poins. Francis !

P. Hen. Away, you rogue; dost thou not hear them call! [Here they both call him: Francis stands amazed between them, and goes to neither.

*

Enter HOSTESS, L.

Host. What stand'st thou still, and hearest such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Exit Francis, L.] My lord, old Sir John, with half-a-dozen more, are at the door; shall I let them in ?

P. Hen. Let them alone, awhile, and then open the door.-[Exit Hostess, L.]-Poins!

Enter POINS, L. S. E.

Poins. [Advancing.] Anon, anon, sir.

P. Hen. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; shall we be merry?

Poins. (c.) As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye: what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? Come, what's the issue?

P. Hen. (c.) I am now of all humours, that have showed themselves humours, since the old days of Goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. What's o'clock, Francis?

Fran. [Without, L.] Six and eight-pence.

P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman? His industry is-up-stairs, and down-stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north,-he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife," Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.". "O my sweet Harry," says she, "how many hast thou killed to-day ?"-" Give my roan horse

a drench," says he, and answers,

"Some fourteen,"

an hour after, "a trifle, a trifle." I pr'ythee call in Falstaff. (R.) Call in ribs, call in tallow.

Enter FALSTAFF, GADSHILL, BARDOLPH, PETO, and FRANCIS, L. with a tankard of Suck.

Poins. Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou been? Fal. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! marry, and amen!-[Sits L. c.]-Give me a cup of sack, boy.-[To Francis, on his L.-Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether-stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards!-Give me a cup of sack, rogue.-[Poins goes to the R.]-Is there no virtue extant? [He drinks.

P. Hen. [To Poins, leaning on his shoulder, R.] Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitifulhearted Titan! that melted at the sweet tale of the sun? If thou didst, then behold that compound.

[Pointing to Fal.

Fal. You rogue, here's lime in this sack too: [Flings it into Francis's face] there is nothing but roguery to be found in vill. nous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it: a villanous coward.-Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat, and grows old, heaven help the while! A bad world, Í say! A plague of all cowards, I say still.

P. Hen. (Crossing to him.) How now, wool-sack? what mutter you?

Fal. A king's son? If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales!

P. Hen. Why, you whoreson round man! what's the matter!

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to that: and Poins there? [Poins runs at him; Fal. rises and retreats, c. P. Hen. (L.) Ye fat paunch, an' ye call me coward, I'll stab thee.

Fal. (L). I call thee coward! I'll see thee damned, ere I call thee coward: but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. [Prince crosses to c. Fal. following.] You are straight enough in the

shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me; give me-a cup of sack;-I am a rogue, if I drunk to-day.

P. Hen. (R. C.) O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drunkest last.

Enter FRANCIS, with Sack.

Fal. (c.) All's one for that.

still, say I!

A plague of all cowards

[Drinks-Francis takes the cup, and exit, L.

P. Hen. (R. C.) What's the matter?

Fal. What's the matter? Here be four of us here have taken a thousand pound this morning.

P. Hen. Where is it, Jack? where is it?

Fal. Where is it? taken from us it is; a hundred upon poor four of us.

P. Hen. What, a hundred, man?

Fal. Lam a rogue, if I were not at half-sword with. a dozen of them two hours together. I have escaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet; four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw,-ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let them speak; if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

P. Hen. Speak, sirs:-(To Gads. &c. L.)—how was it?

Gads. (L.) We four set upon some dozen

Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord.

Gads. And bound them.

Peto. (L.) No, no ;-they were not bound.

Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Hebrew Jew.

Gads. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then came in the other.

P. Hen. 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 radish; if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature.

Poins. (L. of Ful.) 'Pray heaven, you have not killed some of them.

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for; I have peppered two of them: two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me a horse-thou knowest my old ward-here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in backram let drive at me

P. Hen. What, four? thou saidst but two, even now. Fal. Four, Hal-I told thee, four.

Poins. Ay, ay,--he said four.

Fal. These four came all afront, and mainly thrust at me: I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. Hen. Seven! why, there were but four, even now. Fal. In buckram.

Poins. Aye, four in buckram suits.

Fal. Seven, by these hilts, or I'm a villain else.

P. Hen. 'Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall have more

anon.

Fal. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. Hen. Aye, and mark thee too, Jack.

Fal. Do so; for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram, that I told thee of

P. Hen. So, two more already.

Fal. Their points being broken-
Poins. Down fell their hose.

Fal. Began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.

P. Hen. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Fal. (R. C.) But, as the devil would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal Green, came at my back and let drive at me ;-for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.

P. Hen. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained guts, thou knotty-pated fool, thou whoreson, obscene, greasy, tallow-keech

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. Hen. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal Green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this?

Poins. (c.) Come, your reason, Jack, your reason.

Fal. What, upon compulsion? No were 1 at the

strappado, or all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion, I

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin; this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh-[Crossing L.]

Fal. [Following.] Away, you starveling, you eel-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you stock-fish-Oh, for breath to utter what is like thee!-you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, you vile standing tuck.-[Still following.]

P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to it again; and, when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this.

Poins. (c.) Mark, Jack.

P. Hen. (c.) We two saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth. Mark now, how plain a tale shall put you down. Then did we two set on you four; and, with a word, outfaced you from your prize, and have it; yea, and can show it you here in the house :-and, Falstaff, you carried your guts away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard bullcalf. What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say, it was in fight! What trick, what device, what starting-hole, canst thou find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

[Fal. hides his face with his Shield. Poins. Come, let's hear, Jack-what trick hast thou now?

Fal. [Peeping over his Shield.] By the lord, I knew ye, as well as he that made ye. Why-hear ye, my masters-was it for me to kill the heir apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? [Throws away his sword.] Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct: the lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter; I was a coward on instinct. I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life: I, for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. [Throws down his shield.] But, by the lord, lads, I am glad you have the money. Hostess, clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you! What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore ?

D