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