Fal.

You know not perhaps, my lord, that I am lately married; and if this plotting business should turn out a

hanging matter, as in all likelihood it will, what will become of my wife? She will never get such another husband.

Cam. (Aside.)
Curse on this boggling villain. Would we ne'er
Had trusted him: but now there is no remedy.

Fal.

And yet, upon second thoughts, if I get into one noose I shall slip my collar out of the other; and so it may be in the end, no great matter.

Cam.
What hesitation, now? to noble minds
How pleasant is the prospect of revenge!
Think Harry Monmouth treads thee under foot.

Fal.

Hal hath indeed us'd me but scurvily. But here's the point, my lord. I have most readily, on your persuasion, agreed to turn traitor, have enter'd into all your measures, and am come hither to Southampton, where my part of the matter is to be brought to conclusion. You are to get me introduc'd to the king, and, in revenge for his mal-treatment of me, and to pave the way for Mortimer to the throne, I am to introduce a dagger between the short ribs of majesty, and send his grace to heav'n.

Cam.
Well, and why this vain recapitulation?
Have we not answer'd your objections yet?
Falstaff, I took thee for an honest villain,
That laugh'd at the impertinence of conscience.
If thou hast scruples, my lord cardinal
Will banish them, and give thee absolution.

Fal.

My lord, I am no puritan. I am no bigot to the church. I would not give a fig for a pocket-full of my lord cardinal's absolutions: for I am, I confess, so much of a heretick, that I think, if a man cannot in his own conscience acquit himself, all the priests in Christendom cannot do it. Now, my lord, I should blame myself highly if I should run the risque of being damn'd for—

Cam.
Henry's a tyrant; Mortimer is heir;
To free your country, and to right th' oppress'd,
Will evermore be deem'd heroick virtue.

Fal.

I know, my lord, by the maxims of the church, a man will be sooner anathematiz'd for killing a hind, whom no body wants out of the way, than a king who stands unluckily in the gap of so many loyal princes. I do

not pretend to enter into the validity of Harry's title: but, I know it is but the church's calling him a tyrant, and absolving his subjects of their allegiance, and all will go well. Give a dog an ill name, and hang him, my lord—

Cam.
Ha! Sirrah, villain, dost thou mammer then?
I'll stab thee. By this light thou shalt not live, to—

Fal.

Hold, hold, my lord, what, what, cannot you take a jest.

Cam.
A jest, thou villain! is our business jesting?
Look to't—see you perform your promise roundly,
Or woe upon your life—winch e'er so little,
The hand is ready that shall rip thee up;
And tear thy coward conscience from thy heart.

Fal.

'Sblood, my lord, I have no conscience. But, as I should have told you, wouldst thou have heard me, that a man would not willingly run the risque of being damn'd for nothing. You have, you know, made me large promises. You tell me I shall be made a duke, and shall have my share in the division of the promis'd land, when Mortimer is king. Not that I doubt of your lordship's honour, but conspirators are so liable to accidents; and, as I do not expect my reward in the next world, it is but prudent to secure it in this. Doubt not of my being true to your cause, but give me some earnest of my future recompense.

Cam.
What will content thee? money thou hast had.
What wouldst thou more that we can safely give?
We'll put our lives no farther in your power,
Tho' yours depends on our security.

Fal.

Well, well, my lord, I must then be content to trust to the success of our enterprize, and leave it to your honour to proportion my reward to my services.

Cam.
In that be sure thou shalt be satisfied.
Mean time, go steel thy heart and whet thy poniard:
That when the crisis comes thou may'st be ready,
With hand and heart to prove thyself our friend. [Exit Cambridge.

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