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Directly to this question that I ask.
In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.

Hot. Away,
Away, you trifler !- love !- I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate ; this is no world,
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips :
We must have bloody noses, and 'crack'd crowns,
And pass them 'current too. --Gods me, my horse!-
What say'st thou, Kate? what would'It thou have with

me ?
Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?
Well, do not then; for, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love, me ?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o' horse-back, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout :
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife : constant you are ;
But yet a woman : and for secrefy,
No lady closer ; for I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate : Whither I go, thither shall you go too ;



h memmels, -puppets.

i crack'd crowns, &c.]-(puns) coin, and broken heads-money, and a soldier's passport.


To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
Will this content you, Kate ?

Lady. It must, of force.


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Enter Prince Henry, and Poins. P. Henry. Ned, pr’ythee, come out of that ' fat room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little.

Poins. Where haft been, Hal ?

P. Henry. With three or four loggerheads, amongst three or four score hogsheads, I have founded the very base string of humility. Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash of drawers; and can call them all by their Christian names, as-Tom, Dick, and Francis. They take it already upon their salvation, that, though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me flatly, I am no proud Jack, like Falstaff; but a 'Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy,-by the Lord, so they call me; and, when I am king of England, I shall command all the good lads in East-cheap. They call-drinking deep, dying scarlet : and when you " breathe in your watering, they cry-hem! and bid you play it off.—To conclude, I am so good a proficient in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink with any tinker in his own language during my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou haft loft much honour, that thou were not with me in this action. But, sweet Ned,--to sweeten which name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth of sugar, clapt even now into my k fat-foifty.

1 Corinthiana wencher. m breathe]" I think, thou wast created for men to treesbe theme “ felves upon thee." ALL's WELL THAT ENDS WELL, Vol. II. p.407. Laf. Kk 2


hand by an ' under-skinker ; one that never Ipake other English in his life, than-Eight Millings and fixpence, and

You are welcome ; with this shrill addition,- Anon, anon, for! Score a pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. But, Ned, to drive away the time 'till Falstaff come, I proythee, do thou stand in some by-room, while I question my puny drawer, to what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou never leave calling-Francis, that his tale to me may be nothing butanon. Step aside, and I'll shew thee a precedent.

[Poins retires.
Poins. Francis !
P. Henry. Thou art perfect.
Poins. Francis !

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Enter Francis.

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Fran. Anon, anon, fir.Look down into the Pomgranate, Ralph.

P. Henry. Come hither, Francis.
Fran. My lord.
P. Henry. How long haft thou to serve, Francis ?
Fran. Forsooth, five years, and as much as to-
Poins. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon, fir.

P. Henry. Five years! by’rlady, a long lease for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, dar'ít thou be fo valiant, as to play the coward with thy indenture, and shew it a fair pair of heels, and run from it?

Fran. o lord, fir! I'll be sworn upon all the books in England, I could find in my heart

Poins. Francis !

n under skinker ;]-under-drawer, tapster.

bastard)—Sweet'wine. " We shall have all the world drink « brown and white baftard." MEASURE FOR MEASURE, Vol. I. p. 320.



Fran. Anon, anon, sir.
P. Henry. How old art thou, Francis ?

Fran. Let me fee, - About Michaelmas next I shall be

Poins. Francis !
Fran. Anon, fir.Pray you, stay a little, my lord.

P. Henry. Nay, but hark you, Francis : For the sugar thou gav'st me, - 'twas a pennyworth, was't not?

Fran. O lord, fir! I would, it had been two.

P. Henry. I will give thee for it a thousand pound: alk me when thou wilt, and thou shalt have it.

Poins. Francis !
Fran. Anon, anon.

P. Henry. Anon, Francis ? No, Francis : but to-morrow, Francis ; or, Francis, on Thursday; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. But, Francis,

Fran. My lord ?

P. Henry. Wilt thou rob P this leathern-jerkin, chryftalbutton, note-pated, agat-ring, puke-stocking, caddicegarter, smooth-tongue, Spanish-pouch,

Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean?

P. Henry, Why then, your brown bastard is your only drink : for, look you, Francis, your white canvas doublet will sully: in Barbary, sir, it cannot come to so much.

Fran. What, sir?
Poins. Francis !

P. Henry. Away, you rogue; Dost thou not hear them call ?

[Here they both call bim; the drawer stands amazed,

not knowing which way to go.

P this leatbern-jerkin, crystal button, &c. )--this mean-spirited fellow, thy master, whose jacket resembles that of a pawn-broker, with his hair cut close, and his dark russet stockings, tied with garters of coarse ferret.-Garters were formerly worn in fight, and commonly of rich materials.


Enter Vintner.

Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear'st such a calling? look to the guests within. (Exit drawer.] My lord, old sir John, with half a dozen more, are at the door; Shall I let them in ?

P. Henry. Let them alone a while, and then open the door. (Exit Vintner.] Poins !

Re-enter Poins.

Poins. Anon, anon, fir.

P. Henry. Sirrah, Falstaff and the rest of the thieves are at the door ; Shall we be merry ?

Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But hark ye; What cunning match have you made with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the iffue ?

P. Henry. I am now of all humours, that have fhew'd themselves humours, since the old days of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re-enter Francis.] What's o'clock, Francis ?

Fran. Anon, anon, fir.

P. Henry. That ever this fellow should have fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of a woman !-His industry is--up-stairs, and downstairs ; his eloquence, the parcel of a reckoning. I am not yet "of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the north; he that kills me some fix or seven dozen of Scots at a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife,-Fie upon this quiet life! I want work. O my Sweet Harry, says she, bow many bast thou kill'd to-day? Give my roan horse a drench, says he ; and answers, Some fourteen, an hour after ; a trifle, a trifle. I pr’ythee, call in Falstaff ; I'll play Percy, and that damn'd brawn shall

of Perry's mind,]-though of all other humours.


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