Poin. Villaines.
As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all
run
away, leauing the booty behind them.
Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse:
The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly,
that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow
for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to
death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't
not for laughing, I should pitty him
Poin. How the Rogue roar'd.
Exeunt.
Scoena Tertia.
Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to
be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house.
He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of
the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues
his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me
see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous.
Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to
sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of
this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The
purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named
vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole
Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition.
Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a
shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine
is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer
was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte,
good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot,
very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this?
Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the
generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now
by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan.
Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord
Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour?
Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters,
to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth?
and are they not some of them set forward already?
What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall
see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he
to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could
diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish
of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him,
let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards
to night.
Enter his Lady.