115Fal. Now Hal, what time of day is it Lad?

116Prince. Thou art so fat-witted with drinking of olde

117Sacke, and vnbuttoning thee after Supper, and sleeping

118vpon Benches in the afternoone, that thou hast forgotten

119to demand that truely, which thou wouldest truly know.

120What a diuell hast thou to do with the time of the day?

121vnlesse houres were cups of Sacke, and minutes Capons,

122and clockes the tongues of Bawdes, and dialls the signes

123of Leaping-houses, and the blessed Sunne himselfe a faire

124hot Wench in Flame-coloured Taffata; I see no reason,

125why thou shouldest bee so superfluous, to demaund the

126time of the day.

127Fal. Indeed you come neere me now Hal, for we that

128take Purses, go by the Moone and seuen Starres, and not

129by Phoebus hee, that wand'ring Knight so faire. And I

130prythee sweet Wagge, when thou art King, as God saue

131thy Grace, Maiesty I should say, for Grace thou wilte

132haue none.

133Prin. What, none?

134Fal. No, not so much as will serue to be Prologue to

135an Egge and Butter.

136Prin. Well, how then? Come roundly, roundly.

137Fal. Marry then, sweet Wagge, when thou art King,

138let not vs that are Squires of the Nights bodie, bee call'd

139Theeues of the Dayes beautie. Let vs be Dianaes Forre-

140sters, Gentlemen of the Shade, Minions of the Moone;

141and let men say, we be men of good Gouernment, being

142gouerned as the Sea is, by our noble and chast mistris the

143Moone, vnder whose countenance we steale.

144Prin. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the

145fortune of vs that are the Moones men, doeth ebbe and

146flow like the Sea, beeing gouerned as the Sea is, by the

147Moone: as for proofe. Now a Purse of Gold most reso-

148lutely snatch'd on Monday night, and most dissolutely

149spent on Tuesday Morning; got with swearing, Lay by:

150and spent with crying, Bring in: now, in as low an ebbe

151as the foot of the Ladder, and by and by in as high a flow

152as the ridge of the Gallowes.

153Fal. Thou say'st true Lad: and is not my Hostesse of

154the Tauerne a most sweet Wench?

155Prin. As is the hony, my old Lad of the Castle: and is

156not a Buffe Ierkin a most sweet robe of durance?

157Fal. How now? how now mad Wagge? What in thy

158quips and thy quiddities? What a plague haue I to doe

159with a Buffe-Ierkin?

160Prin. Why, what a poxe haue I to doe with my Ho-

161stesse of the Tauerne?

162Fal. Well, thou hast call'd her to a reck'ning many a

163time and oft.

164Prin. Did I euer call for thee to pay thy part?

165Fal. No, Ile giue thee thy due, thou hast paid al there.

166Prin. Yea and elsewhere, so farre as my Coine would

167stretch, and where it would not, I haue vs'd my credit.

168Fal. Yea, and so vs'd it, that were it heere apparant,

169that thou art Heire apparant. But I prythee sweet Wag,

170shall there be Gallowes standing in England when thou

171art King? and resolution thus fobb'd as it is, with the ru-

172stie curbe of old Father Anticke the Law? Doe not thou

173when thou art a King, hang a Theefe.

174Prin. No, thou shalt.

175Fal. Shall I? O rare! Ile be a braue Iudge.

176Prin. Thou iudgest false already. I meane, thou shalt

177haue the hanging of the Theeues, and so become a rare

178Hangman.

179Fal. Well Hal, well: and in some sort it iumpes with

180my humour, as well as waiting in the Court, I can tell

181you.

182Prin. For obtaining of suites?

183Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suites, whereof the Hang-

184man hath no leane Wardrobe. I am as Melancholly as a

185Gyb-Cat, or a lugg'd Beare.

186Prin. Or an old Lyon, or a Louers Lute.

187Fal. Yea, or the Drone of a Lincolnshire Bagpipe.

188Prin. What say'st thou to a Hare, or the Melancholly

189of Moore Ditch?

190Fal. Thou hast the most vnsauoury smiles, and art in-

191deed the most comparatiue rascallest sweet yong Prince.

192But Hal, I prythee trouble me no more with vanity, I wold

193thou and I knew, where a Commodity of good names

194were to be bought: an olde Lord of the Councell rated

195me the other day in the street about you sir; but I mark'd

196him not, and yet hee talk'd very wisely, but I regarded

197him not, and yet he talkt wisely, and in the street too.

198Prin. Thou didst well: for no man regards it.

199Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeede

200able to corrupt a Saint. Thou hast done much harme vn-

201to me Hall, God forgiue thee for it. Before I knew thee

202Hal, I knew nothing: and now I am (if a man shold speake

203truly) little better then one of the wicked. I must giue o-

204uer this life, and I will giue it ouer: and I do not, I am a

205Villaine. Ile be damn'd for neuer a Kings sonne in Chri-

206stendome.

207Prin. Where shall we take a purse to morrow, Iacke?

208Fal. Where thou wilt Lad, Ile make one: and I doe

209not, call me Villaine, and baffle me.

210Prin. I see a good amendment of life in thee: From

211Praying, to Purse-taking.

212Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my Vocation Hal: 'Tis no sin for a

213man to labour in his Vocation.

214Pointz. Now shall wee know if Gads hill haue set a

215Watch. O, if men were to be saued by merit, what hole

216in Hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omni-

217potent Villaine, that euer cryed, Stand, to a true man.

218Prin. Good morrow Ned.

219Poines. Good morrow sweet Hal. What saies Mon-

220sieur Remorse? What sayes Sir Iohn Sacke and Sugar:

221Iacke? How agrees the Diuell and thee about thy Soule,

222that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a Cup of

223Madera, and a cold Capons legge?

224Prin. Sir Iohn stands to his word, the diuel shall haue

225his bargaine, for he was neuer yet a Breaker of Prouerbs:

226He will giue the diuell his due.

227Poin. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with

228the diuell.

229Prin. Else he had damn'd for cozening the diuell.

230Poy. But my Lads, my Lads, to morrow morning, by

231foure a clocke early at Gads hill, there are Pilgrimes go-

232ing to Canterbury with rich Offerings, and Traders ri-

233ding to London with fat Purses. I haue vizards for you

234all; you haue horses for your selues: Gads-hill lyes to

235night in Rochester, I haue bespoke Supper to morrow in

236Eastcheape; we may doe it as secure as sleepe: if you will

237go, I will stuffe your Purses full of Crownes: if you will

238not, tarry at home and be hang'd.

239Fal. Heare ye Yedward, if I tarry at home and go not,

240Ile hang you for going.

241Poy. You will chops.

242Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

243Prin. Who, I rob? I a Theefe? Not I.

244Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fel-

245lowship in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood-royall,

246if thou dar'st not stand for ten shillings.

247Prin. Well then, once in my dayes Ile be a mad-cap.

248Fal. Why, that's well said.

249Prin. Well, come what will, Ile tarry at home.

250Fal. Ile be a Traitor then, when thou art King.

251Prin. I care not.

252Poyn. Sir Iohn, I prythee leaue the Prince & me alone,

253I will lay him downe such reasons for this aduenture, that

254he shall go.

255Fal. Well, maist thou haue the Spirit of perswasion;

256and he the eares of profiting, that what thou speakest,

257may moue; and what he heares may be beleeued, that the

258true Prince, may (for recreation sake) proue a false theefe;

259for the poore abuses of the time, want countenance. Far-

260well, you shall finde me in Eastcheape.

261Prin. Farwell the latter Spring. Farewell Alhollown

262Summer.

263Poy. Now, my good sweet Hony Lord, ride with vs

264to morrow. I haue a iest to execute, that I cannot man-

265nage alone. Falstaffe, Haruey, Rossill, and Gads-hill, shall

266robbe those men that wee haue already way-layde, your

267selfe and I, wil not be there: and when they haue the boo-

268ty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my

269shoulders.

270Prin. But how shal we part with them in setting forth?

271Poyn. Why, we wil set forth before or after them, and

272appoint them a place of meeting, wherin it is at our plea-

273sure to faile; and then will they aduenture vppon the ex-

274ploit themselues, which they shall haue no sooner atchie-

275ued, but wee'l set vpon them.

276Prin. I, but tis like that they will know vs by our

277horses, by our habits, and by euery other appointment to

278be our selues.

279Poy. Tut our horses they shall not see, Ile tye them in

280the wood, our vizards wee will change after wee leaue

281them: and sirrah, I haue Cases of Buckram for the nonce,

282to immaske our noted outward garments.

283Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs.

284Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as

285true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third

286if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes.

287The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes

288that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper:

289how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what

290blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe

291of this, lyes the iest.

292Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things

293necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape,

294there Ile sup. Farewell.

295Poyn. Farewell, my Lord. Exit Pointz

296Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold

297The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse:

298Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne,

299Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes

300To smother vp his Beauty from the world,

301That when he please againe to be himselfe,

302Being wanted, he may be more wondred at,

303By breaking through the foule and vgly mists

304Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him.

305If all the yeare were playing holidaies,

306To sport, would be as tedious as to worke;

307But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come,

308And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

309So when this loose behauiour I throw off,

310And pay the debt I neuer promised;

311By how much better then my word I am,

312By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes,

313And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground:

314My reformation glittering o're my fault,

315Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,

316Then that which hath no foyle to set it off.

317Ile so offend, to make offence a skill,

318Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.