of fern-seed, we walk invisible.
Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to
the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible.
Give me thy hand: thou shalt have a share in our
purchase, as I am a true man.
Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief.
Go to; 'homo' is a common name to all men. Bid the
ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell,
you muddy knave.
Come, shelter, shelter: I have removed Falstaff's
horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet.
Stand close.
Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins!
Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! what a brawling dost
thou keep!
Where's Poins, Hal?
He is walked up to the top of the hill: I'll go seek him.
I am accursed 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 squier
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 bewitched with the
rogue's company. If the rascal hath not given me
medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged; 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!
Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you
rogues; give me my horse, and be hanged!
Peace, ye fat-guts! lie down; lay thine ear close
to the ground and list if thou canst hear the tread
of travellers.
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?
Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted.
I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse,
good king's son.
Out, ye rogue! shall I be your ostler?
Go, hang thyself