Fal. Poines, Poines, and be hang'd Poines
Prin. Peace ye fat-kidney'd Rascall, what a brawling
dost thou keepe
Fal. What Poines. Hal?
Prin. He is walk'd vp to the top of the hill, Ile go seek
him
Fal. I am accurst to rob in that Theefe company: that Rascall hath remoued my Horse, and tied him I know not where. If I trauell but foure foot by the squire further a foote, I shall breake my winde. Well, I doubt not but to dye a faire death for all this, if I scape hanging for killing that Rogue, I haue forsworne his company hourely any time this two and twenty yeare, & yet I am bewitcht with the Rogues company. If the Rascall haue not giuen me medicines to make me loue him, Ile be hang'd; it could not be else: I haue drunke Medicines. Poines, Hal, a Plague vpon you both. Bardolph, Peto: Ile starue ere I rob a foote further. And 'twere not as good a deede as to drinke, to turne True-man, and to leaue these Rogues, I am the veriest Varlet that euer chewed with a Tooth. Eight yards of vneuen ground, is threescore & ten miles afoot with me: and the stony-hearted Villaines knowe it well enough. A plague vpon't, when Theeues cannot be true one to another.
They Whistle.
Whew: a plague light vpon you all. Giue my Horse you
Rogues: giue me my Horse, and be hang'd
Prin. Peace ye fat guttes, lye downe, lay thine eare close to the ground, and list if thou can heare the tread of Trauellers
Fal. Haue you any Leauers to lift me vp again being downe? Ile not beare mine owne flesh so far afoot again, for all the coine in thy Fathers Exchequer. What a plague meane ye to colt me thus? Prin. Thou ly'st, thou art not colted, thou art vncolted
Fal. I prethee good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,
good Kings sonne
Prin. Out you Rogue, shall I be your Ostler?
Fal. Go hang thy selfe in thine owne heire-apparant-Garters:
If I be tane, Ile peach for this: and I haue not
Ballads made on all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a Cup of
Sacke be my poyson: when a iest is so forward, & a foote
too, I hate it.
Enter Gads-hill.