[P. Henry.] Or an old lion, or a lover's lute.

[Falstaff.] Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. [P. Henry] What sayst thou to a hare; or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

[Falstaff] Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, Hal; and art indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest-sweet young prince. But, Hal, I pr'y thee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to heaven, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,Heaven forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, but little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over. I'll not go where you must,-no, not for any king's son in Christendom.

[P. Henry.] Jack, where shall we take a purse to-morrow? [Falstaff] Where thou wilt, lad: I'll make one; an I do not, call me a villain, and baffle me.

[P. Henry.] I see good amendment of life in thee, from praying to purse-taking.

[Falstaff] Why, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.

[P. Henry.] Here comes Ned Poms. Good morrow, Ned. [Poins.] Good morrow, sweet Hal. What, Sir John Sackand-Sugar, Jack, what remorse hast thou had since thy compact on Good Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?

[P. Henry.] Sir John stands to his word, Ned; the bargain shall hold good: he'll be no breaker of proverbs; he will give the devil his due.

[Poins.] But, lads, I have news for you.

There are pil

grims going to-morrow to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders coming to London with fat purses. What say ye? To-morrow morning by four o'clock,

early at Gad's-hill. I have visors for you all; you have horses for yourselves. I have bespoke supper in Eastcheap if you will go, I will stuff your pockets

:

full of crowns; if not, tarry at home and be hanged. [Falstaff] Hear you, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go

not, I'll hang you for going.-Hal, wilt thou make one? [P. Henry.] Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith. [Falstaff] There's neither honesty, manhood, nor goodfellowship in thee an thou dost not. Thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not cry,-stand,—for ten shillings. Come, thou 'lt be one of us.

[Poins.] Sir John, I pr'y thee leave the prince and me alone I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.

[Falstaff] Well, mayst thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap.

[P. Henry.] Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, allhallown summer! [a pause.] [Poins.] Now, my lord, that he is fairly gone, let me say, ride with us to-morrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob the men that I know to be already waylaid yourself and I will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off my shoulders.

[P. Henry.] But how shall we part from them, Ned? [Poins.] Why, my lord, we will set forth before or after them, appointing them a place of meeting, at which it shall be our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure on the exploit themselves, which they shall no sooner have achieved, but we 'll set upon them. [P. Henry.] But will they not know us?

[Poins.] Tut! our horses they shall not see; I'll tie them

in the wood; our visors we'll change after we leave

them; and I have cases of buckram to conceal our outward garments.

[P. Henry] But will they not be too many for us?

[Poins.] For two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms.* The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty at least he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured: and in the reproof of this, lies all the jest.

[P. Henry.] Well, Ned, I'll go with thee: provide all
things necessary, and meet me to-night at Eastcheap,
where I'll sup: farewell!
[a pause.]

I know them all; and will awhile uphold
The unyok'd humour of their idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that do seem to strangle him.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promis'd,
By how much better than my word I seem,
By so much shall I falsify men's thoughts;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill,
Redeeming time when men think least I will.

There are four: who is the one not alluded to? I think Falstaff: his character in circumstances of danger, whatever may be the prince's estimation of it, Poins does not allude to; the prince knows it. Peto or Gadshill is the one who will fight as long as he sees reason, though no longer; and I imagine Gadshill rather than Peto.-B. H. S.

Let us now imagine, after the interval of a few hours, that the scene is the road by Gads-hill, on the way to Canterbury, about four o'clock in the morning, and before daybreak. The prince and Poins pass by hastily, in search of a place of concealment from the rest, Poins declaring that he has removed Falstaff's horse, and that, in his agitation and eagerness to find it, he sweats like a gummed velvet. Afterwards, Falstaff comes up:

a

[Falstaff] Poins, Poins, and he hanged! Poins! The rascal hath removed my horse, and tied him I know not where. If I travel but four feet by the square further, I shall break my wind. Poins! Hal! plague upon you both! Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. Eight yards of uneven ground are threescore and ten miles afoot with me, and the stony-hearted villains know it well enough. A plague upon it, when thieves cannot be true to one another! Give me my horse, you rogues, my horse!

The prince comes forward.

[P. Henry.] Peace, ye fat-sides! lie down, lay thine ear to the ground, and list if thou canst not hear the tread of travellers.

[Falstaff] Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear mine own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague mean ye, to colt me thus ?

[P. Henry.] You are not colted; you are uncolted.

[Falstaff] I pr'y thee, good king's son, help me to my

horse.

[P. Henry.] Out, you rogue! shall I be your hostler?

[Falstaff] Go, hang thyself in thy own 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, may a cup of sack be my poison: when a jest is so forward, and a-foot too, I hate it, I do; I hate it!

Gadshill here enters, and calls out to them:

[Gadshill.] 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.

[Falstaff] You lie, you rogue, you lie! 'tis going to the king's tavern.

The prince interposes :

[P. Henry.] Sirs, you four shall face them in the narrow lane; Ned Poins and I will walk lower; so that, if they escape your encounter, they light upon us.

[Falstaff.] But how many of them be there?

[P. Henry] Some eight or ten.

[Falstaff] Zounds! will they not rob us?

[P. Henry.] What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?

[Falstaff] Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt your grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal.

[P. Henry.] Well, we leave that to the proof.--Ned! hush! where are our disguises? Have you the cases of buckram ready?

[Poins.] Here they are, my lord: stand close.

The prince and Poins remove to a distance from the rest, and put on their disguises: four travellers enter, and are set upon by Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill: the prince and Poins watch for a time the issue of the attack; at length the prince says,

[P. Henry.] The thieves have bound the true men; they are coming this way with bags of money. 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. Stand close: here they are. What says the fat rogue? He is calling us cowards: Ned, hark! do you hear what he