Fal. Poins! Poins, and be hang'd! Poins! Prince. I comes forward i' peace, ye fat-kidney'd rascal! What a brawling dost thou keep! Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? Prince. He is walk'd up to the top of the hill. I'll go seek him. [Steps aside.] Fal. I am accurs'd 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 squire 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 bewitch'd with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hang'd. 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 hang'd! Prince. [comes forward] Peace, ye fat-guts! Lie down, lay thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou canst hear the tread of travellers. Fal. 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? Prince. Thou liest; thou art not colted, thou art uncolted. Fal. I prithee, good Prince Hal, help me to my horse, good king's son. Prince. Out, ye rogue! Shall I be your ostler? Fal. Go 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, [Bardolph and Peto with him].