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afoot again, for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye, 2 to colt me thus ?
P. Henry. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou are uncolted.
Fal. I pr’ythee, good prince Hal, help me to my horfe ; good king's son.
P. Hen. Out, you rogue ! shall I be your oftler ?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thy own 3 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 fack be my poison. When a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it.
Gads. Case ye, case ye; 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.
* To colt-) Is, to fool, to trick; but the prince taking it in another sense, opposes it by uncolt, that is, unborse. JOHNSON.
heir-apparent garters! Alluding to the order of the garter, in which he was enrolled as heir-apparent.
JOHNSON, * Bardolph. What news?-) In all the copies that I have seen Poins is made to speak upon the entrance of Gads-hill thus :'
0, 'tis our setter ; I know his voice.-Bardolph, what news? This is abfurd; he knows Gads-hill to be the letter, and asks Bardolph what news. To countenance this impropriety, the later editions have made Gads-hill and Bardolph enter together, but the old copies bring in Gads-hill alone, and we find that Falstaff, who knew their slations, calls to Bardolph among others for his horse, but not to Gads-hill, who was posted at a distance. We hould therefore read,
Poins. 0, 'tis our fetter, &c.
Gads. There's enough to make us all.
P. Henry. 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 them ?
Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.
P. Hen. Well, we'll leave that to the proof.
Prins. Sirrah, Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge; when thou need'st him, there shalt thou find him. Farewell, and stand fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang’d.
P. Hen. Ned, where are our disguises ?
Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his busineis.
Fal. Strike; down with them; cut the villains' throats; ah! whorson caterpillars ! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth : down with them; fleece them.
Trav. O, we are undone, both we and ours, for ever. .
Fal. Hang ye, s gorbellied knaves, are you undone ?' no, ye fat chuffs, I would your store were
ery man to
here! On, bacons, on! what, ye knaves ? young men must live; you are grand jurors, are ye? we'll jure ye, i’faith. [Here they rob and bind them. Exeunt.
Enter prince Henry and Poins. P. Henry. The thieves have bound the true inen. 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.
Enter thieves again at the other part of the stage.
P. Henry. Your money.
them. They all run away, and Falstaff after a
This word is likewise used by Sir Thomas North in his translation of Plutarch.
Nah, in his Have with you to Saffron Walden, 1596, says"O'tis an unconscionable gorbellied volume, bigger bulk'd " than a Dutch hoy, and far more boisterous and cumbersome * than a payre of Swisscrs omnipotent galeaze brecches.”
6 Enter Hotspur, reading a letter.
But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in refpext of the love I bear your bouse.-He could be contented; why is he not then? in respect of the love be bears our house!-he shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, - Why, that's certain : 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to seep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake, is dangerQus; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself, unforted; and your whole plot too light for ibe counterpoize of so great an opposition.-Say you lo, say you fo? I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation : an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, 7 I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself?
6 Enter Hotspur folus, reading a letter.] This letter was from George Dunbar, earl of March, in Scotland.
Mr. EDWARDS's MS. Notes. 1 - I could brain him with his lady's fan.] Mr. Ed. wards observes, in his Canons of Criticism, that the ladies in our author's time wore fans made of feathers. See Ben Jonson's E-very Man out of his Humour, act. ii. fc. 2.
“ This feather grew in her sweet fan fometimes, tho'
“ now it be my poor fortune to wear it."
Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are there not some of them fer forward already? What a pagan rascal is this? an infidel? Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all cur proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to builets, for moving such a dish of skimm'd milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! let him tell the king; we are prepared : I will set forward to-night.
Enter lady Percy. How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two
hours. Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone? For what ofence have I this fortnight been A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is’t that takes from thee, Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden Neep ? Why dost thou bend thy eyes upon the earth, And start so often, when thou sit’ít alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; And given my treasures, and my rights of thee, To thick-ey'd musing, and curs'd melancholy? In thy faint Numbers, I by thee have watch'd, And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars ; Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
So again, in Cynthia's Revels, act iii. fc. 4. "
for a garter, “ Or the least feather in her bounteous fan." So in the fine Companion, a comedy, by S. Marmion, " the set as light by me, as by the least feather.
« in her fan.” Again, in Chapman's May-day, a comedy, 1610,
“ I will bring thee some special favour from her, as a “ feather from her fan, &c."