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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. [Coming forward.] Peace! 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 a-foot 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 pr’ythee, 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 a-foot too, I hate it.

       [Enter Gadshill.]

       GADS.

       Stand!

       FAL.

       So I do, against my will.

       POINTZ.

       O, ‘tis our setter: I know his voice.

       [Comes forward with Bardolph and Peto.]

       BARD.

       What news?

       GADS. Case ye, case ye; on with your visards: 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

       Pointz 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.

       Zwounds, 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.

       POINTZ. 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 POINTZ.] Ned, where are our disguises?

       POINTZ. [aside to PRINCE HENRY.] Here, hard by: stand close.

       [Exeunt Prince and Pointz.]

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

       [Enter Travellers.]

       FIRST TRAVELLER.

       Come, neighbour:

       The boy shall lead our horses down the hill;

       We’ll walk a-foot awhile and ease our legs.

       FALS, GADS., &C.

       Stand!

       SECOND TRAVELLER.

       Jesu 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.

       FIRST TRAVELLER.

       O, we’re 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 grand-jurors, are ye? we’ll jure ye, i’faith.

       [Exeunt Fals., Gads., &c., driving the Travellers out.]

       [Re-enter Prince Henry and Pointz, 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.

       POINTZ.

       Stand close: I hear them coming.

       [They retire.]

       [Re-enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, and Peto.]

       FAL.

       Come, my masters, let us share, and then to horse before day.

       An the Prince and Pointz be not two arrant cowards, there’s no

       equity stirring: there’s no more valour in that Pointz than in a

       wild duck.

       [As they are sharing, the Prince and Poins set upon them.]

       PRINCE.

       Your money!

       POINTZ.

       Villains!

       [Falstaff, after a blow or two, and the others run away, leaving the booty behind them.]

       PRINCE.

       Got with much ease. Now merrily to horse:

       The thieves are scatter’d, and possess’d with fear

       So strongly that they dare not meet each other;

       Each takes his fellow for an officer.

       Away, good Ned. Fat Falstaff sweats to death,

       And lards the lean earth as he walks along:

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

       POINTZ.

       How the rogue roar’d!

       [Exeunt.]

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