PRINCE HENRY. Welcome, Jack! Where hast thou been?

FALSTAFF. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too, marry and amen! There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old,-Heaven help the while! A bad world! I say.—A plague of all cowards! I say, still.

P. HENRY. How now, Woolsack! what mutter you? FAL. A king's son! if I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more! You Prince of Wales! P. HENRY. Why, what's the matter?

FAL. Are you not a coward? Answer me that! P. HENRY. An' ye call me coward, I'll stab thee! FAL. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hanged ere I'll call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You 're straight enough in the shoulders; you care not who sees your back. Call you that backing of friends? A

plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me! A plague of all cowards! still, say I.

P. HENRY. What's the matter?

FAL. What's the matter! Here be four of us have ta'en a thousand pound this morning.

P. HENRY. Where is it, Jack? Where is it?

FAL. Where is it! Taken from us, it is: a hundred upon four of us.

P. HENRY. What! a hundred, man?

FAL. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them two hours together! I have escaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my buckler cut through and through, my sword hacked like a handsaw!-I never dealt better since I was a man: all would not do. A plague of all cowards!

P. HENRY. What, fought you with them all?

FAL. All! I know not what ye call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish! if there were not two or three and fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two-legged creature!

P. HENRY. Pray Heaven, you have not murdered some of them!

FAL. Nay, that 's past praying for! I have peppered two of them; two, I am sure, I have paid; two rogues in buckram suits! I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face! call me a horse! Thou knowest my old ward: here I lay, and thus I bore my point; four rogues in buckram let drive at me!

P. HENRY. What! four? Thou saidst but two, even

now.

FAL. Four, Hal; I told thee four;-these four came all afront, and mainly thrust at me: I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

P. HENRY. Seven! why, they were but four, even

now.

FAL. In buckram?

P. HENRY. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

FAL. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else! Dost thou hear me, Hal?

P. HENRY. Ay, and mark thee, too, Jack.

FAL. Do so; for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of

P. HENRY. So, two more already?

FAL. Their points being broken, began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in foot and hand, and, with a thought,—seven of the eleven I paid.

P. HENRY. O, monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

FAL. But as Satan would have it, three knaves, in Kendal-green, came at my back, and let drive at me; for it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand!

P. HENRY. These lies are like the father that begets them; gross as a mountain, open, palpable! Why, thou clay-brained heap! thou knotty-pated foolFAL. What! art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth the truth?

P. HENRY. Why, how couldst thou know these men in Kendal-green, when it was so dark thou couldst not see thy hand? Come, tell us your reason: what sayest thou to this? Come, your reason, Jack,—your reason.

FAL. What! upon compulsion? - No for all the racks in the world, I would not tell you on compulsion! Give you a reason on compulsion! If reasons were as plenty as blackberries, I would give no man a reason upon compulsion!

P. HENRY. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin. This.

sanguine coward! this horse-back-breaker! this huge hill of flesh

FAL. Away, you starveling! O, for breath to utter, what is like thee !

P. HENRY. Well, breathe a while, and then to 't again; and when thou hast tired thyself in base comparisons, hear me speak but this:- Poins and I saw you four set on four; you bound them, and were masters of their wealth: mark now, how a plain tale shall put you down! Then did we two set on you four, and with a word outfaced you from your prize, and have it, yea, and can show it you here in the house. And, Falstaff, you carried yourself away as nimbly, with as quick dexterity, and roared for mercy, and still ran and roared, as ever I heard a calf. What a slave art thou! to hack thy sword as thou hast done, and then say it was done in fight! What trick, what device canst thou now find out, to hide thee from this open and apparent shame?

FAL. Ha! ha! ha!-D' ye think I did not know you? I knew you as well as he that made you. Why, hear ye, my master; was it for me to kill the heir-apparent? should I turn upon the true prince? Why, thou knowest, I am as valiant as Hercules; but beware instinct! the lion will not touch the true prince! instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct, I grant you: and I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life; I for a valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. But I am glad you have the money. Let us clap to the doors; watch to-night, pray to-morrow. What, shall we be merry? shall we have a play extempore?

P. HENRY. Content! - and the argument shall be, thy running away.

FAL. Ah! no more of that, Hal, an' thou lovest me. SHAKSPEARE.

LESSON LXVI.

THE SONG OF THE CLOUD.

Ġe'ni i, good or evil spirits, or Orbed, having the form of an

demons, supposed by the ancients to preside over a man's destiny in life; spirits. Bask, to lie in warmth; as, to bask in the sun.

Săn'guine, having a red color; warm; ardent; hopeful.

I

orb; round; circular.

Zōne, a belt or girdle; one of the five great divisions of the earth with respect to latitude and temperature.

Pa vil'ion (pa vìľ ́yun),

a

movable habitation; a teut. Cou'vex, curved; rounded. Çen'o taph, an empty tomb

erected in honor of some deceased person who is buried elsewhere.

BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shades for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken

The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.

2. I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.