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is turned bawdy-house, they pick pockets.
P. Hen. What didst thou lose, Jack?
Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal? three or four
bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal-ring of my
grandfather's.

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter.
Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, I
heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he speaks
most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed man as he
s; and said, he would cudgel you.

P. Hen. What! he did not?

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

a

P. Hen. There's no more faith in thee than in 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 sayest 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?

poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of villany? Thou scest, I have more flesh than another man; and therefore more frailty.--You confess then, you picked my pocket?

P. Hen. It appears so by the story.

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make ready breakfast; love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests: thou shalt find me tractable to any honest reason: thou seest, I am pacified.-Still? -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. [Erit.

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.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas.

P. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall SCENE I-The rebel camp, near Shrewsbury. 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, whoreson, 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; 1 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 villain. 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: No man so potent breathes upon the ground, But I will beards him. Hot. (3) This expression is applied by way of preeminence to the head of the Douglas family. (4) Disdain. (5) Meet him face to face.

Art thou not ashamed?

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.

Do so, and 'tis well :

Enter a Messenger, with letters.
What letters hast thou there?—I can but thank you.
Mess. These letters come from your father,-
Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not him-A

self?

Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous

sick.

Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power?1
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 quailing2 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.

'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.

Hot.

You strain too far.

rather, of his absence make this use ;-
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
larger dare to our great enterprise,
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,
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 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 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 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 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:

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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.

'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 Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. 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 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.

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

Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am long. a souced gurnet. I have misused the king's press Fal. Well,

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-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 eve 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, 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.

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.
Ver.

I

I

Yea, or to-night.

Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver.

Content.

Hot. 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.

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

Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king,

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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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,"

(6) Conduct, experience.

(7) Fellowship.

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 this 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,2 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 came not to hear this.
Hot.
Then, to the point.-
In short time after, he depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd 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 ransom 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 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

(1) Grievances. (2) The delivery of his lands.
(3) The greater and the less.
(4) Letter.

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.-York. A room in the archbishop's house. Enter the Archbishop of York, and a Gentleman.

Arch. Hie, good sir Michael; bear this sealed
brief,

With winged haste, to the lord mareshal;
This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest
To whom they are directed: if you knew
How much they do import, you would make haste.
Gent. My good lord,

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-rul'd by prophecies,)-
I fear, the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.

Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear;
there's Douglas,
And Mortimer.

Arch.
No, Mortimer's not there.
Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry

Percy,

And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

Arch. And so there is: but yet the king hath

drawn

The special head of all the land together ;-
The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more cor-rivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well
oppos'd.

Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear,
And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed:
For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king
Dismiss his power, he means to visit us,-
For he hath heard of our confederacy,-.
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him;
Therefore, make haste: I must go write again
To other friends; and so farewell, sir Michael.
[Exe. severally.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The king's camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince John
of Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, and Sir John
Falstaff.

K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer

(5) A strength on which we reckoned.

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,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.

K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize; For nothing can scem 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:
This 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 for 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.
For you, my staff of office did I break

In Richard's time; and posted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yct you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time: You swore to us,-
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,-
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
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;
The seeming sufferances that you had borne;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
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 enfore'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;
(1) Woody.
(2) Put off.
(3) A chattering bird, a pic.

By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated,

Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches;
To face the garment of rebellion

With soxae fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurly-burly innovation:

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pell-mell 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 enterprise 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 thee,

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.

[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.

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Erit. Fal. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is

(4) Exhibited in articles.

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