Farewell, and stand fast.

FAL. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.

PRINCE [Aside.] Ned, where are our disguises?

POINS [Aside.] Here, hard by. Stand close.

 

[Exeunt Prince and Poins.]

 

FAL. Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I, every man to his business.

 

Enter the Travellers.

 

[1.] TRAV. Come, neighbor, the boy shall lead our horses down the hill. We'll walk afoot a while, and ease our legs.

THIEVES. Stand!

TRAVELLERS. Jesus bless us!

FAL. Strike! down with them! cut the villains' throats! Ah, whoreson caterpillars! bacon-fed knaves! they hate us youth. Down with them! fleece them!

[1.] TRAV. O, we are undone, both we and ours for ever!

FAL. Hang ye, gorbellied knaves, 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 grandjurors, are ye? We'll jure ye, faith.

 

Here they rob them and bind them. Exeunt.

 

Enter the Prince and Poins [in buckram].

 

PRINCE. The thieves have bound the true men. 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 the Thieves again.

 

FAL. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day. And the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no equity stirring.

There's no more valor in that Poins than in a wild duck.

PRINCE. Your money!

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 them.

 

PRINCE.

Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse.

The thieves are all scattered, 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.

Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.

POINS.

How the fat rogue roar'd!

 

Exeunt.

 

 

[Scene III]

Enter Hotspur solus, reading a letter.

 

[HOT.] »But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.« He could be contented: why is he not then? In the respect of the love he bears our house: he shows 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 sleep, to drink, but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. »The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have nam'd uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.« Say you so, say you so? 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. 'Zounds, and I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? 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 they not some of them set 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 our proceedings.