FALSTAFF. 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 square 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 have 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! [_They whistle._] Whew! A plague upon you all! Give me my horse, you rogues, give me my horse and be hanged! PRINCE. [_Coming forward._] Peace, you fat guts, lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers. FALSTAFF. Have you any levers to lift me up again, being down? ’Sblood, I’ll not bear my own flesh so far afoot again for all the coin in thy father’s exchequer. What a plague mean ye to colt me thus? PRINCE. Thou liest, thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. FALSTAFF. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king’s son. PRINCE. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler? FALSTAFF. Hang thyself in thine own heir-apparent garters! If I be ta’en, I’ll peach for this. An I have not ballads made on you all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack be my poison—when a jest is so forward, and afoot too! I hate it. Enter Gadshill. GADSHILL. Stand! FALSTAFF. So I do, against my will. POINS. O, ’tis our setter. I know his voice. Comes forward with Bardolph and Peto. BARDOLPH. What news? GADSHILL. Case ye, case ye, on with your visards. There’s money of the King’s coming down the hill, ’tis going to the King’s exchequer. FALSTAFF. You lie, ye rogue, ’tis going to the King’s tavern. GADSHILL. There’s enough to make us all. FALSTAFF. To be hanged. PRINCE. Sirs, you four shall front them in the narrow lane. Ned Poins and I will walk lower; if they ’scape from your encounter, then they light on us. PETO. How many be there of them? GADSHILL. Some eight or ten. FALSTAFF. Zounds, will they not rob us? PRINCE. What, a coward, Sir John Paunch? FALSTAFF. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather, but yet no coward, Hal. PRINCE. Well, we leave that to the proof. POINS. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands behind the hedge. When thou need’st him, there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast. FALSTAFF. Now cannot I strike him, if I should be hanged. PRINCE. [_aside to Poins._] Ned, where are our disguises?