GADSHILL. That’s even as fair as “at hand, quoth the chamberlain,” for thou variest no more from picking of purses than giving direction doth from labouring; thou layest the plot how. CHAMBERLAIN. Good morrow, Master Gadshill. It holds current that I told you yesternight: there’s a franklin in the Wild of Kent hath brought three hundred marks with him in gold. I heard him tell it to one of his company last night at supper; a kind of auditor, one that hath abundance of charge too, God knows what. They are up already, and call for eggs and butter. They will away presently. GADSHILL. Sirrah, if they meet not with Saint Nicholas’ clerks, I’ll give thee this neck. CHAMBERLAIN. No, I’ll none of it. I pray thee, keep that for the hangman, for I know thou worshippest Saint Nicholas as truly as a man of falsehood may. GADSHILL. What talkest thou to me of the hangman? If I hang, I’ll make a fat pair of gallows; for, if I hang, old Sir John hangs with me, and thou knowest he is no starveling. Tut, there are other Troyans that thou dream’st not of, the which for sport sake are content to do the profession some grace, that would, if matters should be looked into, for their own credit sake make all whole. I am joined with no foot-land-rakers, no long-staff sixpenny strikers, none of these mad mustachio purple-hued malt-worms, but with nobility and tranquillity, burgomasters and great oneyers, such as can hold in, such as will strike sooner than speak, and speak sooner than drink, and drink sooner than pray: and yet, zounds, I lie, for they pray continually to their saint the commonwealth, or rather not pray to her, but prey on her, for they ride up and down on her, and make her their boots. CHAMBERLAIN. What, the commonwealth their boots? Will she hold out water in foul way? GADSHILL. She will, she will; justice hath liquored her. We steal as in a castle, cock-sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we walk invisible. CHAMBERLAIN. Nay, by my faith, I think you are more beholding to the night than to fern-seed for your walking invisible. GADSHILL. Give me thy hand. Thou shalt have a share in our purchase, as I am a true man. CHAMBERLAIN. Nay, rather let me have it, as you are a false thief. GADSHILL. Go to; _homo_ is a common name to all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out of the stable. Farewell, you muddy knave. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The Road by Gads-hill. Enter Prince Henry and Poins; Bardolph and Peto at some distance. POINS. Come, shelter, shelter! I have removed Falstaff’s horse, and he frets like a gummed velvet. PRINCE. Stand close. [_They retire._] Enter Falstaff. FALSTAFF. Poins! Poins, and be hanged! Poins! PRINCE. [_Coming forward._] Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep! FALSTAFF. Where’s Poins, Hal? PRINCE. He is walked up to the top of the hill. I’ll go seek him. [_Retires._]