Doug.

'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.

The quality and hair 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 shews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

I, rather, of his absence make this use ;-
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprize,
Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom; with his help,
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.-
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
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 harın: 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 with 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 ease 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 fierce-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,

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?
Ver. To thirty thousand.

Hot.
Forty let it be;
My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us make a muster speedily:
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

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-Colefield 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 it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell. [Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, 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 pins' 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-fallen; 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 scare-crows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat;-Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn-keeper of Daintry: But that's all one; they'll find 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 theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; Whose fellows are these that come after ? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. I 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 three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the king encamped.

West. He is, sir John; I fear, we shall stay too long.
Fal. Well,

To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast,
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON.
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.

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,

I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
Aз you, my lord, or any Scot that lives :-
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.

Hot. To-night, say I.

Ver.

Content.

Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being men of such great leading,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: Certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;
And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-baited, 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.

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. Hot.Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; And 'would to God, You were of our determination!

Some of us love you well: and even those some
Envy your great deserving, and good name;
Because you are not of our quality,
But stand against us like an enemy.

Blunt. And God defend, but still I should stand so,
So long as, out of limit, and true rule,
You stand against anointed majesty !
But, to my charge.-The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty: If that the king
Have any way your good deserts forgot,-
Which he confesseth to be manifold,-
He bids you name your griefs; and with all speed,
You shall have your desires, with interest;
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion.

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father, and my uncle, and myself. Did give him that same royalty he wears: And,-when he was not six and twenty strong, Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,My father gave him welcome to the shore: And,-when he heard him swear and vow to God, He came but to be duke of Lancaster, To sue his livery, and beg his peace; With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd, Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. Now, when the lords, and barons of the realm Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him, The more and less came in with cap and knee; Met him in boroughs, cities, villages; Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths, Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him, Even at the heels, in golden multitudes. He presently, as greatness knows itself,— Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father, while his blood was poor, Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg; And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees, That lie too heavy on the commonwealth : Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face, This seeming brow of justice, did he win The hearts of all that he did angle for. Proceeded further; cut me off the heads Of all the favourites, that the absent king In deputation left behind him here, When he was personal in the Irish war. Blunt. Tut, I come not to hear this. Hot. Then, to the point.— In short time after, he deposed the king; Soon after that, deprived him of his life; And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well plac'd, Indeed his king,) to be incag'd in Wales, There without ransome to lie forfeited: Disgrac'd me in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by intelligence; [ Rated my uncle from the council-board;

In rage

dismiss'd I my father from the court; Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong: And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out This head of safety; and, withal, to pry Into his title, the which we find

Too indirect for long continuance.

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king? Hot. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdraw awhile. Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd Some surety for a safe return again, And in the morning early shall mine uncle Bring him our purposes: and so farewell. Blunt. I would, you would accept of grace and love. Hot. And, may be, so we shall. Blunt. 'Pray heaven, you do!

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

I guess their tenor.

Arch.
Like enough, you do.
To-morrow, good sir Michael, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must 'bide the touch: For, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,

The king, with mighty and quick-raised power,
Meets with lord Harry and I fear, sir Michael,—
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
(Whose power was in the first proportion,)
And what with Owen Glendower's absence, thence,
(Who with them was a rated sinew too,
And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies,)—
I fear, the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.

ACT V.

Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale At his distemperature.

P. Hen.

The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves, Foretels a tempest, and a blustering day.

K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize;
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.-

Trumpet. Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my lord of Worcester? 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet you have deceiv'd our trust;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
That is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What say you to't? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war?
And move in that obedient orb again,
Where you did give a fair and natural light;
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,

A prodigy of fear, and a portent

Of broached mischief to the unborn times?
Wor. Hear me, my liege:

For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life
With quiet hours; for, I do protest,

I have not sought the day of this dislike.
K. Hen. You have not sought it! how comes it then?
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn your looks
Of favour, from myself, and all our house;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
In Richard's time; and posted day and night
For you, my staff of office did I break
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
The dangers of the time: You swore to us,-
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,-
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you.--
What with our help; what with the absent king;
What with the injuries of a wanton time;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
The seeming sufferances that you had borne;
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,
That all in England did repute him dead,—
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand:
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster;
And, being fed by us; you us'd us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow: did oppress our nest;
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,
That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head:
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself;
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth

Sworn to us in your younger enterprize.

K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated,
Proclaim'd at market crosses, read in churches;
To face the garment of rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation :

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time,
Of pellmell havoc and confusion.

P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: By my hopes,-
This present enterprize set off his head,-
I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;
And so, I hear, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my father's majesty,-
I am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation;

And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture Albeit, considerations infinite

Do make against it :-No, good Worcester, no.
We love our people well; even those we love,
That are misled upon your cousin's part:
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his :
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do:-But if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
We will not now be troubled with reply:
We offer fair, take it advisedly.

[thee,

[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNon. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life: The Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge; For, on their answer, will we set on them : And God befriend us, as our cause is just!

[Exeunt KING, BLUNT, and PRINCE JOHN. Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.

Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. [Exit. SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp.

Enter WORCESTER and VERnon.

Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir Richard, The liberal kind offer of the king.

Ver. 'Twere best, he did. Wor.

Then are we all undone.

It is not possible, it cannot be,
The king should keep his word in loving us ;
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults:
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes:
For treason is but trusted like the fox ;
Who, ne er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or sad, or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our looks;
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot,
It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood;
And an adopted name of privilege,—
A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen:
All his offences live upon my head,
And on his father's ;--we did train him on;
And, his corruption being ta'en from us,
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all.
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know,
In any case, the offer of the king.

Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so.
Here comes your cousin.

Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; and Officers and Soldiers, behind.

Hot. Hy uncle is return'd:-Deliver up My lord of Westmoreland.-Uncle, what news? Wor. The king will bid you battle presently. Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland. Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. [Ex. Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king. Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid ! Wor. I told him gently of our grievances, Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus,By now forswearing that he is forsworn : He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us.

Re-enter DOUGLAS.

Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it; Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on

Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. [king,