Scæna Secunda.
Enter Prince, Poynes, and Peto.
Poines. Come shelter, shelter, I haue remoued Falstafs
Horse, and he frets like a gum'd Veluet.
Prin. Stand close.
Enter Falstaffe.
Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines.
Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling dost thou keepe.
Fal. What Poines. Hal?
Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek him.
Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be hang'd; it could not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be true one to another. They Whistle.
Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd.
Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Trauellers.
Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus?
Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted.
Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good Kings sonne.
Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters: If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote too, I hate it.
Enter Gads-hill.
Gad. Stand.
Fal. So I do against my will.
Poin. O 'tis our Setter, I know his voyce:
Bardolfe, what newes?
Bar. Case ye, case ye; on with your Vizards, there's mony of the Kings comming downe the hill, 'tis going to the Kings Exchequer.
Fal. You lie you rogue, 'tis going to the Kings Tauern.
Gad. There's enough to make vs all.
Fal. To be hang'd.
Prin. You foure shall front them in the narrow Lane: Ned and I, will walke lower; if they scape from your encounter, then they light on vs.
Peto. But how many be of them?
Gad. Some eight or ten.
Fal. Will they not rob vs?
Prin. What, a Coward Sir Iohn Paunch?
Fal. Indeed I am not Iohn of Gaunt your Grandfather; but yet no Coward, Hal.
Prin. Wee'l leaue that to the proofe.
Poin. Sirra Iacke, thy horse stands behinde the hedg, when thou need'st him, there thou shalt finde him. Farewell, and stand fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
Prin. Ned, where are our disguises?
Poin. Heere hard by: Stand close.
Fal. Now my Masters, happy man be his dole, say I: euery man to his businesse.
Enter Trauellers.
Tra. Come Neighbor: the boy shall leade our Horses downe the hill: Wee'l walke a-foot a while, and ease our Legges.
Theeues. Stay.
Tra. Iesu blesse vs.
Fal. Strike down with them, cut the villains throats; a whorson Caterpillars: Bacon-fed Knaues, they hate vs youth; downe with them, fleece them.
Tra. O, we are vndone, both we and ours for euer.
Fal. Hang ye gorbellied knaues, are you vndone? No ye Fat Chuffes, I would your store were heere. On Bacons, on, what ye knaues? Yong men must liue, you are Grand Iurers, are ye? Wee'l iure ye ifaith.
Heere they rob them, and binde them. Enter the Prince and Poines
Prin. The Theeues haue bound the True-men: Now could thou and I rob the Theeues, and go merily to London, it would be argument for a Weeke, Laughter for a Moneth, and a good iest for euer.
Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming.
Enter Theeues againe.
Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke.
Prin. Your money.
Poin. Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them.
They all run away, leauing the booty behind them.
Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him.
Poin. How the Rogue roar'd. Exeunt.
Scœna Tertia.
Enter Clowne and Awdrie.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
