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P. Henry. And how doth thy mafter, Bardolph?

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Bard. Well, my good Lord. He heard of your Grace's coming to town. There's a letter for you. P. Henry. Deliver'd with good respect ?—and how doth the Martlemas, your mafter?

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Bard. In bodily health, Sir NA RE

Poins. Marry; the immortal part needs a phyfician; but that moves not him; though that be fick, it dies

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P. Henry. I do allow this wen to be as familiar with me as my dog; and he holds his place: for, look you, how he writes... [Gives Poins the letter.

Poins reads. John Falstaff, Knight,Everyman muft know that as often as he hath occafion to name himfelf: even like thofe that are kin to the King; for they never prick their finger but they fay, There is fome of the King's blood Spilt. How comes that fays he that takes upon him not to conceive: the answer is as ready as a borrower's cap; I am the King's poor codz fin, Sir.

P. Henry, Nay, they will be kin to us, or they will fetch it from Japhet. But, to the letter. at q

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Poins. Sir John Falfaff, Knight, to the fon of the King, nearest his father, Harry Prince of Wales, greet ing. Why this is a certificate.

P. Henry. Peace..

Poins. I will imitate the honourable Roman * in brevity. Sure, he means brevity in breath; fhort-winded. I commend me to thee, I commend thee, and I love thee. Be not too familiar with Poins; for he misuses thy favours fo much, that he fwears thou art to marry his fifter Nell. Repent at idle times as thou may'ft, and fo farewelt Thine, by yea and no which is as much as to fay, as thou useft him. Jack Falstaff with my familiares John with my brothers and fifters: and Sir John with all. Europe. My Lord, I will fteep this letter in fack, and make him eat it.

P. Henry. That's to make him cat plenty of his words: But do you use me thus, Ned? muft I marry your sister?

*Meaning M. Brutus, who affected great brevity of ftyle.

Mr. Warburton.

Poins. May the wench have no worse fortune! But I never faid fo.

P. Henry. Well, thus we play the fool with the timē, and the spirits of the wife fit in the clouds and mock us. Is your mafter here in London?

Bard. Yes, my Lord.

P. Henry, Where fups he? doth the old boar feed in the old frank?

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Bard. At the old place, my Lord, in Eaft-cheap.
P. Henry. What company?

Page. Ephefians, my Lord, of the old church.
P. Henry. Sup any women with him?

Page. None, my Lord, but old Mrs. Quickly, and Mrs. Doll Tear-fheet.

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P. Henry. What Pagan may that be?

Page. A proper gentlewoman, Sir, and a kinfwoman of my master's.

P. Henry. Even fuch kin as the parish-heifers are to the town-bull. Shall we steal upon them, Ned, at

fupper?

Poins. I am your fhadow, my Lord, I'll follow you. P. Henry. Sirrah, you boy, and Bardolph, no word to your mafter that I am yet come to town. There's your filence.

for

Bard. I have no tongue, Sir.

Page. And for mine, Sir, I will govern it.

P. Henry. Fare ye well: go. This Doll Tear-fheet fhould be fome road.

Poins. I warrant you, as common as the way between St. Alban's and London.

P. Henry. How might we fee Falstaff bestow himself to-night in his true colours, and not ourselves be feen? Poins. Put on two leather jerkins and aprons, and wait upon him at his table, as drawers.

P. Henry. From a god to a bull? a heavy defcenfion. It was Jove's cafe. From a prince to a prentice? a low transformation; that shall be mine: for in every thing, the purpose must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. [Exeunt.

VOL. IV.

A a

SCENE

SCENE VI. Changes to Northumberland's cafile:

Enter Northumberland, Lady Northumberland, and Lady Percy.

North. I pr'ythee, loving wife and gentle daughter, Give even way unto my rough affairs. Put not you on the visage of the times,

And be like them to Percy, troublesome.

L. North. I have given over, I will speak no more: Do what you will; your wifdom be your guide. North. Alas, fweet wife, my honour is at pawn, And, but my going, nothing can redeem it.

L. Percy. Oh, yet, for heav'n's fake, go not to these

wars.

fon's.

The time was, father, that you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it than now;
When your own Fercy, when my heart-dear Harry,‣
Threw many a northward look, to see his father
Bring up his pow'rs: but he did long in vain!
Who then perfuaded you to stay at home?
There were two honours loft, your's and your
For your's, may heav'nly glory brighten it!
For his, it ftuck upon him as the fun
In the grey vault of heav'n; and by his light
Did all the chivalry of England move
To do brave acts. He was indeed the glafs,
Wherein the noble youth did drefs themfelves.
He had no legs that practis'd not his gait :
And peaking thick, which Nature made his blemish,
Became the accents of the valiant:

For thole that could peak low and tardily,
Would turn their own perfection to abule,

To feem like him. So that, in fpeech, in gait,

In diet, in affections of delight,

In military rules, humours of blood,

He was the mark and glafs, copy and book,
That fashion'd others. And him, wond'rous him!
O miracle of men! him did you leave
(Second to none, unfeconded by you)
To look upon the hideous god of war
In difadvantage; to abide a field,

Where nothing but the found of Hot-fpur's name

Did feem defenfible; fo you left him.
Never, O, never did his ghoft the wrong,
To hold your honour more precise and nice
With others, than with him.

Let them alone.
The marshal and the archbishop are strong
Had my fweet Harry had but half their numbers,
o-day might I (hanging on Hotfpur's neck)
"Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave.

North. Befhrew your heart,

Fair daughter, you do draw my fpirits from me,
With new-lamenting ancient overfights.

But I must go and meet with danger there;
Or it will feek me in another place,

And find me worse provided.

L. North. Fly to Scotland,

Till that the nobles and the armed commons
Have of their puiffance made a little taste.

L. Percy. If they get ground and 'vantage of the king, Then join you with them, like a rib of iteel,

To make strength fronger. But for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your fon:
He was fo fuffer'd; fo came I a widow;

And never fhall have length of life enough,
To rain upon remembrance * with mine eyes,
That it may grow and sprout as high as heav'n,
For recordation to my noble husband.

North. Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my

As with the tide fwelled up into his height,
That makes a till-ftand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
But many thou and reafons hold me back:
I will refolve for Scotland; there am I.

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Till time and 'vantage crave my company. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII.

Changes to the Boar's-head tavern in Eaft-cheap.
Enter two Drawers.

1 Draw. What the devil haft thou brought there? Apple-Johns? thou know'ft Sir John cannot endure an Apple-John.

Alluding to the plant refemary, fo called, and used in funerals.

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2 Draw, Mafs! thou fayeft true; the Prince ohoe fet a difh of Apple-Johns before him, and told him there were five more Sir Johns; and, putting off his hat, faid, I will now take my leave of thefe fix dry, round, old, wither'd knights. It anger'd him to the heart; but he hath forgot that.

1 Draw. Why then, cover, and fet them down; and fee if thou can't find out Sneak's nofe; Mrs. Tear-sheet would fain hear fon:e mufic. Difpatch! the room where they fup is too hot, they'll come in straight.

2 Draw. Sirrah, here will be the Prince, and Master Poins anon, and they will put on two of our jerkins and aprons, and Sir John must not know of it. Bardolph hath brought word.

1 Draw. Then here will be old Utis: it will be an excellent ratagem.

2 Draw. I'll fee if I can find out Sneak.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII. Enter Hoftefs and Dol.

Hoft. I'faith, fweet heart, methinks now you are in an excellent good temperality. Your pulfidge beats as extraordinary as heart would defire; and your colour, I warrant you, is as red as any rofe: but, i'faith, you have drank too much canarys, and that's a marvellous fearching wine; and it perfumes the blood ere we can fay what's this. How do you now!

Dol. Better than I was: hem.

Hoft. Why, that was well faid: a good heart's worth gold. Look, here comes Sir John.

Enter Falftaff.

Fal. When Arthur first in court.-empty the jourden and was a worthy King. How now, Mrs. Dol. Hoft. Sick of a calm: yea, good footh. Fal. So is all her fect; if they be once in a calm, they are fick.

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Dol. You muddy rafcal, is that all the comfort you give me ?

Fal. You make fat rafcals, Mrs. Dol.

Dol. I make them! gluttony and diseases make them; I make them not.

Fal. If the cook make the gluttony, you help to

make

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