I will state the issue of this second and most unforeseen engagement, briefly, and then comment upon it. Falstaff and the rest, after a blow or two, _ran away, leaving their booty behind them_. Now perhaps you have fallen into the vulgar error of imagining Sir John Falstaff a coward? Allow me to help you out of it. The reflections and decisions of genius are instantaneous and almost simultaneous. The instinctive conclusions of Sir John Falstaff, on being thus unexpectedly attacked, may be summed up and classified as follows:-- 1. That men, who can afford buckram suits (defensive armour of the period, of considerable costliness), are not common men. 2. That men out of the common seldom venture upon a dangerous undertaking without plenty of satellites in reserve. 3. That no sensible man will attack superior numbers unless supported by the reasonable certainty of some advantages. 4. That a man who watches a thief rob an honest man, and then takes upon himself to rob the thief, is decidedly a sensible man. 5. That a purse of silver is more easily replaced than a forfeited existence. 6. That the men in buckram hit rather hard; and that the sensation of being thrashed was decidedly unpleasant. 7. That he, (Sir John), had better be off. Acting upon these rapid convictions, Sir John Falstaff performed one of the most renowned manouvres in his warlike career--the retreat from Gadshill. Ordinary prose is inadequate to the emergency of describing this great event. A moment’s grace, reader, while the historian calls on the poetic Muse--just to see if she be at home. Yes. It is all right. Flashing sparks from clashing blows Dimm’d the glare of Bardolph’s nose; Gadshill, Peto, screaming ran, (Warriors prompt to lead the van!) Falstaff last withstands the pressure, Strikes three blows to guard the treasure; But the warrior braying death Can but fight while he has breath: Falstaffs stock is quickly done; Foes are on him two to one. What’s of martyrdom the fun, Or of gold the value? None-- When compared to flesh and bone To the weight of half a ton! White as moon three-quarters done, Hot and moist as autumn sun; Bound and swift as shot from gun, Down the valley see him run- Thus was Gadshill lost and won! IV. THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.