“Sirs,” said the Prince, “you four shall front them in a narrow lane. _Ned Poins and I will walk lower. If they ‘scape from your encounter, then they light on us_.” And will any one make me believe that this man won the battle of Agincourt?--unless, indeed, by some parallel stratagem. There, as at Gadshill, I doubt not but he had his Falstaffs, Bardolphs *, and Petos to bear the first brunt of the battle, while he and his congenial fellows walked lower--reserving themselves to enjoy the fruits of victory. Never tell me what historians have said! I am an historian myself; and I know that there are some people of that profession who will write anything--provided they are properly paid for it. * This unpremeditated association of the names of Bardolph and Agincourt causes the historian to drop a tear on his proof sheet, in anticipation of a painful event that inexorable duty will compel him to chronicle by and by. “How many be there of them?” General Falstaff inquired, previous to arranging his plan of battle. “Some eight or ten.” A prospective difficulty, such as could not have been foreseen by any but a comprehensive mind capable of embracing all emergencies, presented itself to our hero, who exclaimed-- “Zounds! will they not rob us?” “What, a coward, Sir John Paunch!” asked the Prince, mockingly. “Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, your grandfather” (a favourite play on words with our hero); “but yet no coward, Hal.” “Well, we leave that to the proof.” “Sirrah Jack!” said Poins, as he sneaked away to ‘walk lower’ with the Prince of Wales; “thy horse stands behind the hedge: when thou need’st him there thou shalt find him. Farewell, and stand fast.” “Now cannot I strike him if I should be hanged!” exclaimed the magnanimous John. Footsteps sounded, lanterns glimmered on the summit of the hill. “Now my masters,” said Jack, grasping his broadsword. “Happy man be his dole, say I; every man to his business.” They withdrew into “the narrow lane.” This was a short cut, down which the travellers would probably walk, leaving their horses to be led round by the high road. Such proved to be the case. The travellers, four in number, were plebeians of the vulgarest description; shopmen, farmers, carriers, and the like,--people with large hands and coarse minds, such as in all cases have been reserved by destiny as the legitimate prey of the superior classes: the only observable variation of their treatment being in the manner of levying taxation. Four terrible figures rushed out of the darkness, and four terrible voices cried:-- “Stand!” The unfortunate travellers would have been most happy to do so, only they were too frightened. They fell on their knees instead, and roared.