Sir T. G.
How now, my lords, why stay you loit'ring here?
Is it not time Sir John should be at court?

Scroop.
It is yet time enough; but th' hour moves slow,
When expectation sits upon the watch.

Cam.
Sir Thomas, your impatience binds you to us,
As one whose heart is bent on our success.

Sir Tho.
It is: but sure the time is drawing near;
The king has bidden Falstaff's free admittance;
But I have orders from the duke of Exeter
To double all the guards. What can that mean?
I hope there's no suspicion got abroad,
Should Falstaff now impeach us, we are lost.

Cam.
Ay, that indeed would be a fatal stroke:
And, to say truth, I almost tremble for't.

Scroop.
Cambridge, thou'rt ever wav'ring as the wind;
One moment rashly braving needless danger;
The next, suspicion making thee a coward.
Impeach us! let him, we will face him down;
Unsay whate'er he says, swear all is falshood:
Shall he gain credit 'gainst such men as we?
Fix'd, firm as rocks, we stand in Hal's esteem,
The first and fairest for our loyalty;
And shall not we bear all before us down,
The lying evidence of Sir John Falstaff?
Comes it to that—say nothing—leave 't to me.
By heav'ns, I'll stare the fat-paunch'd coward dumb;
And, tho' he brought the gospel proof against us,
Will make him own it ev'ry word a lye.
The guards are doubled! doubled let them be—
They're under your command, Sir Thomas Grey,
And we shall have the more for our assistance.

Sir Tho.
But, if there be suspicion—

Scroop.
Think there none.
They tell me, yesterday a drunken carl
Attempted rudely to break into th' presence.

My life for't 'tis on that account; no other.
But come, the hour's at hand: let us away.
Mind well your cues, nor marr this bustling play:
One short act more, and then the day's our own;
And Mortimer shall clap us, from the throne. [Exeunt.

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