Hotsp. No more, no more, Worse then the Sunne in March: This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come. They come like Sacrifices in their trimme, And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre, All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them: The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire, To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh, And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse, Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt, Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse? Oh, that Glendower were come Ver. There is more newes: I learned in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of yet Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach vnto? Ver. To thirty thousand Hot. Forty let it be, My Father and Glendower being both away, The powres of vs, may serue so great a day. Come, let vs take a muster speedily: Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare. Exeunt. Omnes. Scaena Secunda. Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph. Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le to Sutton-cop-hill to Night Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine? Falst. Lay out, lay out Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end Bard. I will Captaine: farewell. Enter.