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Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone ?

Enter Servant.
Serv. He is, my lord, an hour agone.
Hot. Hath Butler brought those horses from the

Sheriff ?
Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought ev'n now.
Hot. What horse ? 'a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?
Serv. It is, my lord.
Hot. That roan shall be


Well, I will back him ftrait. O Esperance !
But Butler lead him forth into the Park.

Lady. But hcar you, my Lord.
Hot. What say'st thou, my Lady?
Lady. What is it carries you away?
Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

Lady. Out, you mad-headed ape! a weazel hath not
Such a deal of spleen as you are tost with.-
In faith, I'll know your business, that I will.


brother Mortimer doth stir About his Title, and hath sent for

you To line his enterprize: but if you go

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.
Lady. Come, come, you Paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question, I shall ask..
I'll break thy little Finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true,
Hot. Away, away, you trifler:-love! I love thee

I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world

with mammets, and to tilt with lips.
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them currant too-gods me! horse.
What fay'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have with

I fear,

To play


me ?

Lady. Do ye not love me? do you not, indeed? Well, do not then. For, since you love me not, #mamucts,] i. 6. Girls.

I will

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I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no?

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o'horse-back, I will swear,
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,
I must not have you henceforth question me,
Whither I go; nor reason, where about.
Whither I'mult, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave thee, gentle Kate.

I know you wise; but yet no further wise
Than Harry Percy's wife. Constant you are,

But yet a woman; and for secresy,
No lady closer. For I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou doft not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark
Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
To day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
Will this content you, Kate ?
Lady. It must of force.


you, Kate,

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Changes to the Boar's-Head Tavern in East-cheap.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry. NED; pr’ythee come out of that fat room,

and lend me thy hand to laugh a little, Poins. Where haft been, Hal ?

P. Henry. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or fourscore hogsheads. I have founded the

very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers, and can call them all by their Christian names, as Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their conscience, that though I be but Prince of Wales, yet I am the King of courtesy ; telling me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Fatstaff, but

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a Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy: (by the Lord, so they call me ;) and when I am King of England, I shall command all the good lads.in East-cheap. They call drinking deep, dying scarlet; and when you breathe in your watering, they cry, hem; and bid you play it off. To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou haft loft much honour, that thou wert not with me in this action; but, sweet Ned,-(to sweeten which name of Net, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapt even now into my hand by an under-skinker, one that never spake other English in his life, than Eight Shillings and Six Pence, and you are welcome, Sir : with this shrill addition, Anon, anon, Sir; Score a pint of bastard in the half moon, or so.) But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff come, I pr’ythee, do thou stand in some bye-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar, and do thou never leave calling Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing but, anon. Step aside, and I'll shew thee a precedent.

[Poins retires. Poins. Francis, P. Henry. Thou art perfect. Poins. Francis.


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AN DOMramen, dini look down into the


pomgranet, Ralph.
P. Henry. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord.
P. Henry. How long haft thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-
Poins. Francis,
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry.

P. Henry. Five years; by'rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But Francis, darest thou be so valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and shew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. O Lord, Sir, I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in


Poins. Francis,
Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.
P. Henry. How old art thou Francis ?

Fran. Let me see, about Michaelmas next I shall be

Poins. Francis,
Fran. Anon, Sir; pray you stay a little, my lord.

P. Henry. Nay, but hark you, Francis, for the sugar thou gavest me, 'twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Fran. O lord, I would it had been two.

P. Henry: I will give thee for it a thousand pound: ask me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

Poins. Francis,
Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Henry. Anon, Francis ? no, Francis, but to-morrow, Francis, or Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,

Fran. My lord?

P. Henry. Wilt thou tob this leathern-jerkin, crystalbutton, knot-pated, agat-ring, puke-stocking, caddice-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch.

Fran. O lord, Sir, who do you mean?

P. Henry. Why then your brown bastard is your only drink; for look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully. In Barbary, Sir, it cannot come to so much.

Fran. What Sir ?
Poins. Francis, —

P. Henry. Away, you rogue, dost thou not hear them call ?

Here they both call; the drawer stands amazed,
not knowing which way to go.
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Enter Vintner. Vint. What, stand'st thou still, and hear'ft such a Calling? Look to the guests within. My lord, old Sir John with half a dozen more are at the door; shall I let them in ?

P. Henry. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. Poins,

Exit Vintner. Enter Poins. Poins. Anon, anon, Sir;

P. Henry. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door; shall we be merry ?

Poins. As merry as Crickets, my lad. But hark ye, what cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the issue?

P. Henry. I am now of all humours, that have shew'd themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. What's o'clock, Francis ?

Fran. Anon, anon, Sir.

P. Henry. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a Parrot, and yet the son of a Woman! His industry is up stairs and down stairs; his eloquence the parcel of a recko.mig. I am not yet of Percy's mind, the hot-spur of the north ; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands and fays to his wife, fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my sweet Harry, says she, how many halt thou kill'd' to day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he, and answers, some fourteen, an hour after; á trifle, a trifle. I pr’ythee, call in Falstaff; l'll play Percy, and that damn'd Brawn fhall play dame Mortimer his wife. Ribi, says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in tallow.


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