me taste my horse, Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales: Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet and ne'er part till one drop down a corse. O that Glendower were come! There is more news: I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. What may the king's whole battle reach unto? To thirty thousand. Forty let it be: My father and Glendower being both away, The powers of us may serve so great a day Come, let us take a muster speedily: Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. Talk not of dying: I am out of fear Of death or death's hand for this one-half year. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton Co'fil' tonight. Will you give me money, captain? Lay out, lay out. This bottle makes an angel. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all; I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at town's end. I will, captain: farewell. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good house-holders, yeoman's sons; inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lieve hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters and ostlers trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace, ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty