three fingers on the ribs bare. But, si. rah, make
haste: Percy is already in the field.
Ful. What is the king encamped?

80.

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.

Bard. I will, captain: farewell. Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused 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 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 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 servingmen, 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 You speak it out of fear and cold heart. rooms of them that have bought out their serVer. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, vices, that you would think that I had a hundred And I dare well maintain it with my life, and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from If well-respected honour bid me on, swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. AI hold as little counsel with weak fear mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives: unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll Which of us fears. not march through Coventry with them, that's Doug. flat: nay, and the villains march wide betwixt Ver. 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 an herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter the PRINCE and WESTMORELAND. Prince. 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.

62

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

Prince. 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.

Prince. 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.

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 :

Yea, or to-night.

Hot. To-night, say I.

10

Content.

Ver. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder
much,
Being men of such great leading as you are,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 20
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 of himself.
Hot. So are the horses of the enemy
In general, journey-bated and brought low:
The better part of ours are 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,

30

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 deservings 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,

40

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 Prince. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call. You conjure from the breast of civil peace

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 seem foul to those that win.
Trumpet sounds.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my Loid of Worcester! 'tis not well
That you and I should meet upon such terms 10
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 it? 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.
Prince. Peace, chewet, peace!

31

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

50

In Richard's time; and posted day and night
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.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home and boldly did out-dare
The dangers of the time. You swore to us, 41
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 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,

K. Hen. These things indeed you have articu-
late,

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 pell-mell havoc and confusion.

80

90

Prince. 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,
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.

100

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.

110

Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON. Prince. 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;

120

For, on their answer, will we set on them; And God befriend us, as our cause is just ! Exeunt King HENRY, BLUNT, and JOHN OF LANCASTER. Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship. Prince. Nothing but a colossus can do thee 60 that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. Prince. Why, thou owest God a death. Exit. 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 that word honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon; and so ends my catechism. Exit.

SCENE II. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

51

An1 that no man might draw short breath to-day
But I and Harry Monmouth. Tell me, tell me,
How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt?
Ver. No, by my soul; I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urg'd more mode-tly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of aims.
He gave you all the duties of a man,
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue,
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle,
Making you ever better than his praise
By still dispraising praise valu'd with you;
And, which became him like a prince indeed, so

Wor. O! no, my nephew must not know, Sir He made a blushing cital of himself,

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 all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;

For treason is but trusted like the fox,

Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,

11

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; Officers and
Soldiers behind.

20

Hot. My 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.
Exit.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Ilot. 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 for worn:
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
Re-enter DOUGLAS.

40

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 king,

And nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.
Hot. O would the quarrel lay upon our heads,

And chid his truant youth with such a grace
As if he master'd there a double spirit
Of teaching and of learning instantly.
There did he pause. But let me tell the world,
If he outlive the envy of this day,
England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstru'd in his wantonness.
Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured

70

Upon his follies: never did I hear
Of any prince so wild a libertine.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.
Arm, arm with speed! and, fellows, soldiers,
friends,

Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now.

O gentlemen! the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,

Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us!
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.

Enter another Messenger.

Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on a pace.

91

Hot I thank him that he cuts me from my tale,
For I profess not talking. Only this,-
Let each man do his best and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now, Esperance! Percy! and set on.
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace;
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.

100

SCENE III.-Between the Camps. Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and Sir WALTER BLUNT, meeting.

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle
thus

Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek
Upon my head ?

Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.

Hot. This, Douglas? no: I know this face full
well;

A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; 20
Semblably furnish'd like the king himself.

Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!

A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear:
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Dow. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his
coats;

I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the king.

Hot.
Up, and away!
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no sco:ing but upon the pate. Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt: there's honour for you! here's no vanity! I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: God keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered: there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes here?

Enter the PRINCE.

40

Prince. What is 't a time to jest and dally now?
Throws it at him, and exit.

Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him.
If he do come in my way, so: if he do not, if I
come in his willingly, let him make a carbonado
of me.
I like not such grinning honour as Sir
Walter hath give me life; which if I can save,
so; if not, honour comes unlooked for, and
there's an end.
Exit. 64

SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alarums. Excursions. Enter King HENRY, the PRINCE, JOHN OF LANCASTER, and WESTMORELAND.

K. Hen. I prithee,

Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too much.

Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

Lane. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
Prince. I beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
K. Hen. I will do so.

10

My Lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
West. Come, my lord, I'll lead you to your tent.
Prince. Lead me, my lord! I do not need your
And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive
help:
The Prince of Wales from such a field as this,
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !

Lanc. We breathe too long: come, cousin
Westmoreland,

Our duty this way lies: for God's sake, come.
Exeunt JOHN OF LANCASTER and
WESTMORELAND.
Prince. By God, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lan-
caster;

I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

20

Prince. What! stand'st thou idle here? lend That wear those colours on them: what art thou, me thy sword:

Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd: prithee, lend me
thy sword.

Fal. O Hal! I prithee, give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.

Prince. He is, indeed; and living to kill thee. I prithee, lend me thy sword.

50

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gettest not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

Prince. Give it me. What is it in the case? Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot: there's that will sack a city.

The PRINCE draws out a bottle of sack.

That counterfeit'st the person of a king?
K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas,
grieves at heart

30

So many of his shadows thou hast met
And not the very king. I have two boys
Seek Percy and thyself about the field:
But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee; so defend thyself.
Doug. I fear thou art another counterfeit ;
And yet, in faith, thou bear'st thee like a king:
But mine I am sure thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.

They fight King HENRY being in danger, re-enter the PRINCE. Prince. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like