Poyns.

Come shelter, shelter, I have remov'd Falstaff's Horse, and he frets like a gumm'd Velvet.

Prin.

Stand close.

Fal.

Poynes, Poynes, and be hang'd, Poynes.

Prin.

Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascal, what a bawling dost thou keep?

Fal.

What Poynes, Hal?

Prin.

He is walk'd up to the top of the Hill, I'll go seek him.

Fal.

I am accurst to rob in that Thiefs Company: that Rascal hath remov'd my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four foot by the square further a-foot, I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I escape hanging for killing that Rogue. I have forsworn his Company hourly any time this two and twenty year, and yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascal have not given me Medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd, it could not be else: I have drunk Medicines. Poynes, Hall, a Plague upon you both. Bardolph, Peto: I'll starve e're I rob a foot further. And 'twere not as good a deed as to drink, to turn Trueman, and to leave these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that ever chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten miles a foot with me: And the stony-hearted Villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, when Thieves cannot be true one to another.

Whew, a plague light upon you all. Give me my Horse, you Rogues: give me my Horse, and be hang'd.

Prin.

Peace ye Fat-guts, lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou can hear the tread of Travellers.

Fal.

Have you any Leavers to lift me up again being down? I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again, for all the Coyn in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus?

Prin.

Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.

Fal.

I prethee good Prince Hal help me to my Horse, good Kings Son.

Prin

Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?

Fal.

Go hang thy self in thy own heir-apparent Garters: If I be ta'ne, I'll peach for this: and I have not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sack be my Poyson: when a jest is so forward, and a-foot too, I hate it,

Gad.
Stand.

Fal.
So I do against my will.

Poyn.
O 'tis our Setter, I know his voice:
Bardolf, what News?

Bar.

Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's Money of the Kings coming down the Hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer.

Fal.

You lie, you Rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tavern.

Gad.

There's enough to make us all.

Fal.

To be hang'd.

Prin.

You four shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I

will walk lower; if they escape from your encounter, then they light on; us.

Peto.

But how many be of them?

Gad.

Some eight or ten.

Fal.

Will they not rob us?

Prin.

What, a Coward, Sir John Paunch?

Fal.

Indeed I am not John of Gaunt your Grandfather: but yet no Coward, Hal.

Prin.

Well leave that to the Proof.

Poin.

Sirrah Jack, thy Horse stands behind the Hedge, when thou need'st him, there shalt thou find him, farewel, and stand fast.

Fal.

Now I cannot strike him if I should be hang'd.

Prin.

Ned, where are our Disguises?

Poin.

Here hard by: Stand close.

Fal.

Now my Masters, happy Man be his dole, say I: every Man to his business.

Tra.

Come, Neighbour: The Boy shall lead our Horses down the Hill: We'll a foot a while, and ease our Legs.

Thieves.

Stay.

Tra.

Jesu bless us.

Fal.

Strike; down with them, cut the Villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaves, they hate us Youth; down with them, fleece them.

Tra.

O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever,

Fal.

Hang ye gorbellied Knaves, are you undone? No ye Fat Chuffs, I would your store were here. On Bacons on, what ye Knaves? Young men must live, you are Grand Jurors? We'll jure ye i'faith.