Enter Falstaff.
Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins!
Prince. I comes forward i' peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal! What
a
brawling dost thou keep!
Fal. Where's Poins, Hal?
Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek
him.
[Steps aside.]
Fal. I am accurs'd to rob in that thief's company. The rascal
hath
removed my horse and tied him I know not where. If I travel
but
four foot by the squire further afoot, I shall break my wind.
Well, I doubt not but to die a fair death for all this, if I
scape hanging for killing that rogue. I have forsworn his
company
hourly any time this two-and-twenty years, and yet I am
bewitch'd
with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me
medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd. It could not
be
else. I have drunk medicines. Poins! Hal! A plague upon you
both!
Bardolph! Peto! I'll starve ere I'll rob a foot further. An
'twere not as good a deed as drink to turn true man and to
leave
these rogues, I am the veriest varlet that ever chewed with a
tooth. Eight yards of uneven ground is 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 one to
another! (They whistle.) Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me
my
horse, you rogues! give me my horse and be hang'd!
Prince. [comes forward] Peace, ye fat-guts! Lie down, lay thine
ear
close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of
travellers.
Fal. 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?
Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.
Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good
king's
son.
Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler?
Fal. Go hang thyself in thine 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, let a cup of sack be my
poison.
When a jest is so forward- and afoot too- I hate it.
Enter Gadshill, [Bardolph and Peto with him].
Gads. Stand!
Fal. So I do, against my will.
Poins. [comes fortward] O, 'tis our setter. I know his voice.
Bardolph, what news?
Bar. Case ye, case ye! On with your vizards! There's money of
the
King's coming down the hill; 'tis going to the King's
exchequer.
Fal. You lie, ye rogue! 'Tis going to the King's tavern.
Gads. There's enough to make us all.
Fal. To be hang'd.
Prince. 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. How many be there of them?
Gads. Some eight or ten.
Fal. Zounds, will they not rob us?
Prince. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch?
Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather; but yet
no
coward, Hal.
Prince. Well, we leave that to the proof.
Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When
thou
need'st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell and stand
fast.
Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hang'd.
Prince. [aside to Poins] Ned, where are our disguises?
Poins. [aside to Prince] 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.
Traveller. Come, neighbour.
The boy shall lead our horses down the hill;
We'll walk afoot awhile and ease our legs.
Thieves. Stand!
Traveller. 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!
Traveller. 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 and bind them. Exeunt.
Enter the Prince and Poins [in buckram suits].
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.
[They stand aside.]
Enter the Thieves again.
Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before
day.
An the Prince and Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no
equity stirring. There's no more valour in that Poins than in
a
wild duck.