Peto, at some distance.
Poins.
Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's
horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet1 note.
P. Hen.
Stand close.
-- 252 --
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
P. Hen.
Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What a
brawling dost thou keep?
Fal.
Where's Poins, Hal?
P. Hen.
He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll
go seek him.
[Pretends to seek Poins.
Fal.
I am accursed to rob in that thief's company:
the rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know
not where. If I travel but four foot by the squire2 note
further afoot I shall break my wind. Well, I doubt
not but to die a fair death for all this, if I 'scape hanging
for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his company
hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and
yet I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the
rascal have not given me medicines to make me love
him, I'll be hanged; it could not be else: I have drunk
medicines.—Poins!—Hal!—a plague upon you both!
—Bardolph!—Peto!—I'll starve, ere I'll rob a foot
further. An 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to
turn true man, and leave these rogues, I am the veriest
varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight yards of
uneven ground is three score and ten miles afoot with
me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough.
A plague upon't, when thieves cannot be true to one
another! [They whistle.] Whew!—A plague upon you
all! Give me my horse, you rogues: give me my
horse, and be hanged.
P. Hen.
Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down: lay thine ear
close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the
tread of travellers.
Fal.
Have you any levers to lift me up again, being
down? 'Sblood! I'll not bear mine own flesh so far
-- 253 --
afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer.
What a plague mean ye to colt me thus3 note?
P. Hen.
Thou liest: thou art not colted, thou art
uncolted.
Fal.
I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my
horse; good king's son.
P. Hen.
Out, you rogue! shall I be your ostler?
Fal.
Go, hang thyself4 note in thine own heir-apparent
garters! If I be ta'en, I'll peach for this. An I have not
ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a
cup of sack be my poison: when a jest is so forward,
and afoot too,—I hate it.
Enter Gadshill.
Gads.
Stand.
Fal.
So I do, against my will.
Poins.
O! 'tis our setter: I know his voice.
Enter Bardolph.
Bard.
What news?
Gads.
Case ye, case ye5 note; on with your visors: there's
money of the king's coming down the hill; 'tis going
to the king's exchequer.
Fal.
You lie, you rogue: 'tis going to the king's
tavern.
Gads.
There's enough to make us all.
Fal.
To be hanged.
-- 254 --
P. Hen.
Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow
lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower: if they 'scape
from your encounter, then they light on us.
Peto.
But how many be there of them6 note?
Gads.
Some eight, or ten.
Fal.
Zounds! will they not rob us?
P. Hen.
What, a coward, sir John Paunch?
Fal.
Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather;
but yet no coward, Hal.
P. Hen.
Well, we leave that to the proof7 note.
Poins.
Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the
hedge: when thou needest him, there thou shalt find
him. Farewell, and stand fast.
Fal.
Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged.
P. Hen.
Ned, [Aside to Poins] where are our disguises?
Poins.
Here, hard by: stand close.
[Exeunt P. Henry and Poins.
Fal.
Now, my masters, happy man be his dole8 note, say
I: every man to his business.
Enter Travellers.
1 Trav.
Come, neighbour: the boy shall lead our
horses down the hill; we'll walk afoot awhile, and ease
our legs.
Thieves.
Stand!
Trav.
Jesu bless us!
Fal.
Strike; down with them; cut the villains'
throats. Ah! whorson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves!
they hate us youth: down with them; fleece them.
-- 255 --
1 Trav.
O! we are undone, both we and ours, for
ever.
Fal.
Hang ye, gorbellied knaves9 note
note
. Are ye 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 are ye? We'll jure ye, i' faith.
[Exeunt Fal. &c. driving the Travellers out1 note.
Re-enter Prince Henry and Poins.
P. Hen.
The thieves have bound the true men2 note.
Now could thou and I rob the thieves, and go merrily
to London, it would be argument for a week, laughter
for a month, and a good jest for ever.
Poins.
Stand close; I hear them coming.
Re-enter Thieves.
Fal.
Come, my masters; let us share, and then to
horse before day. An the prince and Poins be not two
arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring: there's no
more valour in that Poins, than in a wild duck.
P. Hen.
Your money.
[Rushing out upon them.
Poins.
Villains.
[As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon
them. They all run away, and Falstaff, after a
blow or two, runs away too, leaving the booty behind them3 note.]
-- 256 --
P. Hen.
Got with much ease4 note. Now merrily to horse:
The thieves are scatter'd, and possess'd with fear
So strongly, that they dare not meet each other;
Each takes his fellow for an officer.
Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death,
And lards the lean earth as he walks along:
Wer't not for laughing, I should pity him.
Poins.
How the rogue roar'd!
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
