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Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let ine beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,-
By smiling pick-thanks' and base newsmongers,

I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
P. Hen. I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
Be more myself.
K. Hen. For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.

K. Hen. God pardon thee!-yet let me wonder, Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,

Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts"
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does fore-think thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company;
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;2
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir,
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:"
That men would tell their children, This is he:
Others would say,-Where? which is Bolingbroke?
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,

That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin3 wits,
Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state;
Mingled his royalty with capering fools;

Had his great name profaned with their scorns;
And gave his countenance, against his name,
To laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push'
Of every beardless vain comparative:*
Grew a companion to the common streets,
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity:

That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes,
They surfeited with honey; and began

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as a cuckoo is in June,

Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspéct
As cloudy men use to their adversaries;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou :
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;

(1) Officious parasites.

(2) True to him that had then possession of the

crown,

He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession ;
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm;
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
What never-dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Douglas; whose high deeds,
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arins,
Holds from all soldiers chief majority,
And military title capital,

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ?
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfitted great Douglas: ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mor
timer,

Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough,-through vassal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,-
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns,
To show how much degenerate thou art.

P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it so;
And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd'
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask,

Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet:
For every honour sitting on his helm,

Would they were multitudes; and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;

(3) Brushwood. (4) Rival. (5) Possessed.
(6) Armour, (7) Combine. (8) Most fatal.
(9) Bonds,

And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel' of this vow.
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this:
Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein.
Enter Blunt.

ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night, betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed. Blunt. So hath the business that I come to chandler's in Europe. I have maintained tha speak of.

Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,

That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,
The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:

A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,

As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreland set forth
to-day:

With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement? is five days old :-
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set
Forward; on Thursday, we ourselves will march:
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire; by which ac-
count,

salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years; Heaven reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would my face were in your belly!

Fal. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heart-burned.

Enter Hostess.

How now, dame Partlet the hen? have you inquired yet, who pick'd my pocket?

Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have inquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant: the tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before.

Fal. You lie, hostess; Bardolph was shaved, and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, my pocket was picked: Go to, you are a woman, go.

Host. Who, I? I defy thee: I was never called so in mine own house before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat,' while men delay. [Exe.
SCENE III-Eastcheap. A room in the Boar's
Host. No, sir John; you do not know me, sit
Head Tavern. Enter Falstaff und Bardolph.
John: I know you, sir John: you owe me money,,
Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely since sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me
this last action? do I not bate? do I not dwindle? of it: I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back.
Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them
loose gown; I am wither'd like an old apple-John. away to bakers' wives, and they have made bolters
Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in of them.

some liking; I shall be cut of heart shortly, and Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of
then I shall have no strength to repent. An Thave eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides,
not forgotten what the inside of a church is made sir John, for your diet, and by drinkings, and
of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse: the inside money lent you, four and twenty pound.
of a church! Company, villanous company, hath]
been the spoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. He had his part of it; let him pay. Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath nothing. Fal. How! poor? look upon his face; What call you rich? let them coin his nose, let them coin his Fal. Why, there is it :-come, sing me a bawdy cheeks; I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make song; make me merry, I was as virtuously given, a younker of me? shall I not take mine case in mine as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough: swore inn, but I shall have my pocket picked? I have little; diced, not above seven times a week; went lost a seal-ring of my grandfather's, worth forty to a bawdy-house, not above once in a quarter-mark.

of an hour; paid money that I borrowed, three or Host. O Jesu! I have heard the prince tell him, four times; lived well, and in good compass: and I know not how oft, that that ring was copper, now I live out of all order, out of all compass. Fal. How! the prince is a Jack," a sneak-cup; Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that you and, if he were here, I would cudgel him like a must needs be out of all compass; out of all rea-dog, if he would say so. sonable compass, sir John.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life: Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop,-but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be sworn; I make as good use of it as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori: I never see thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face; my oath should be, By this fire: but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ran'st up Gads-hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an

Part. (2) Intelligence, (3) Feeds himself.
Have some flesh, (5) Admiral's ship.

Enter Prince Henry and Poins, marching. Falstaff meets the Prince, playing on his truncheon like a fife.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door, i'faith? must we all march?

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion,
Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me.

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quickly How does thy husband? I love him well, he is a honest man.

Host. Good my lord, hear me.

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me.
P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack?

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here behind the arras, and had my pocket picked; this house,

(6) In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. (7) A term of contempt frequently used by Shakspeare,

SE

I turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets. poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thoq P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack? seest, I have more flesh than another man; and Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four therefore more frailty.You confess then, you bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my picked my pocket? grandfather's.

P. Hen. It appears so by the story. P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.—Still? ; and said, he would cudgel you. P. Hen. What! he did not?

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor womannood in me else.

P. Hen. There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune; nor no more truth in thee, than in a drawn fox; and for womanhood, maid Marian' may be the deputy's wife of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go.

Host. Say, what thing? what thing?

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank God on. Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou should'st know it; I am an honest man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so.

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise.

Host. Say, what beast, thou knave thou?
Fal. What beast? why, an otter.

P. Hen. An otter, sir John? why an otter?
Fal. Why? she's neither fish, nor flesh; a man
knows not where to have her.

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; thou or any man knows where to have me, thou knave thou!

P. Hen. Thou savest true, hostess; and he slanders thee most grossly.

Host. So he doth you, my lord; and said this other day, you ought him a thousand pound.

P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million; thou owest me thy love. Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, and said, he would cudgel you.

Fal. Did I, Bardolph?

Bard. Indeed, sir John, you said so.

Fal. Yea; if he said, my ring was copper.
P. Hen. I say, 'tis copper: Darest thou be as

good as thy word now?

-Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. [Exit Hostess.] Now,
Hal, to the news at court: for the robbery, lad,—
How is that answered?

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:-The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

I

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen. Bardolph-
Bard. My lord.

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of
Lancaster,

My brother John; this to my lord of Westmore-
land.-

Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I,
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.-
Jack,

Meet me to morrow i'the Temple hall,
At two o'clock i'the afternoon:
There shalt thou know thy charge; and there
receive

Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast, come :

Fal. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art but 0, I could wish, this tavern were my drum. [Eril.

man, I dare: but, as thou art prince, I fear thee,

as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp.

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion?

Fal. The king himself is to be feared as the lion: Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as I fear thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God, my girdle break!

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-The rebel camp, near Shrewsbury. P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this bosom of thine: it Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth, is filled up with guts, and midriff. Charge an In this fine age, were not thought flattery, honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou Such attribution should the Douglas' have, whoresor, impudent, embossed rascal, if there As not a soldier of this season's stamp were any thing in thy pocket but tavern-reckonings, Should go so general current through the world. memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy penny-worth of sugar-candy, to make thee long- The tongues of soothers; but a braver place winded; if thy pocket were enriched with any In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself: other injuries but these, I am a viliain. And yet Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord. you will stand to it; you will not pocket up wrong: Doug. Thou art the king of honour: Art thou not ashamed? No man so potent breathes upon the ground, But I will beard him. Hot. Do so, and 'tis well :

Fal. Dost thou hear, Hal? thou knowest, in the state of innocency, Adam fell; and what should

(1) A man dressed like a woman, who attends morris-dancers.

(2) Swoln, puffy,

(5) This expression is applied by way of preeminence to the head of the Douglas family. (4) Disdain, (5) Meet him face to face,

Enter a Messenger, with tellers.

Hol.

You strain too far.

What letters hast thou there?I can but thank you., rather, of his absefice make this use;
Mess. These letters come from your father,- It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him-A larger dare to our great enterprise,
Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous! we, without his help, can make a head

self?

sick.

Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?

Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.
Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth;
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been
whole,

Ere he by sickness had been visited;

His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth
infect

The very life-blood of our enterprise ;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.-
He writes me here,-that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,-
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing? now;
Because the king is certainly possess'd'
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:-
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it :-Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Doug.

4

'Faith, and so we should ;
Where now remains a sweet reversion:
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:

A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.

To push against the kingdom; with his help,
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.-

Doug. As heart can think: there is not such a
word

Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

Enter Sir Richard Vernon.

Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.
Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome,
lord.

The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince John.
Hot. No harm: What more?

Ver.
And further, I have learn'd,—
The king himself in person is set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daff'd' the world aside,
And bid it pass?

Ver.
All furnish'd, all in arms,
All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind;
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd;"
Glittering in golden coats, like images;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,-
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such case into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun
in March,

This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come;,
They come like sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,

And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt,

Wor. But yet, I would your father had been Against the bosom of the prince of Wales:

here.

The quality and hairs of our attempt
Brooks no division: It will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike

Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;
And think, how such an apprehension
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause:
For, well you know, we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement;

And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father's draws a curtain,
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

(1) Forces. (2) Languishing. (3) Informed.
(4) Line.
(5) Whereas.
(6) The complexion, the character.

Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.-
O, that Glendower were come!
Ver.

There is more news:

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach
unto?

[blocks in formation]

Doug. Talk not of dying; I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II-A public road near Coventry. Enter
Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill
me a bottle of sack: our soldiers shall march
through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night.
Bard. Will you give me money, captain?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if

theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; whose fellows are these that come after ? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

Fal. "Faith, for their poverty,-I know not where they had that: and for their bareness,-I am sure, they never learned that of me.

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coin- three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make age. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the haste; Percy is already in the field. town's end. Fal. What, is the king encamped? West. He is, sir John; I fear, we shall stay too

[Exit.

Fal. Well,

Bard. I will, captain: farewell. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am long. a souced gurnet.' I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds.

feast,

SCENE III.-The rebel camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Ver

non.

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor.

It may not be.
Doug. You give him then advantage.
Ver.
Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.

Hot.
His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.

Doug.

I press me none but good householders, yeomen's Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt. sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver,2 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pin's heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores: and such as, indeed, were never soldiers; but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-failen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old faced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think, that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals. lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat:-Nay, and the villains march wide beCome, come, it may not be. twixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I wonder much, being men of such great leading, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but That you foresee not what impediments a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-Drag back our expedition: Certain horse shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day; sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from And now their pride and mettle is asleep, my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn- Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, keeper of Daintry. But that's all one; they'll find That not a horse is half the half himself. linen enough on every hedge.

Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland. P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt? Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire ?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already: The king, I can tell you, looks for us all; we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me; I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

P. Hen. I think, to steal cream, indeed; for thy

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You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
(And I dare well maintain it with my life,)
If well-respected honour bid me on,
hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you my lord, or any Scot that lives :-
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Doug.
Yea, or to-night.
Ver.

I

Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver.

Content.

Ilot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated, and brought low;
The better part of ours is full of rest.

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

[The trumpet sounds a parley.

Enter Sir Walter Blunt.

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