SCENE I.—The rebel camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS.

Hot. Well said, my noble Scot! If speaking truth, In this fine age, were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have, As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. By heaven, I cannot flatter, I defy The tongues of soothers; but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man, than yourself; Nay, task me to the word; approve me, lord! Doug. Thou art the king of honour: No man so potent breathes upon the ground, But I will beard him.

Hot 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 himself? 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? 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 enterprize : '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.

Dough. Faith, and so we shoulde
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.
Wor. But yet I would, your father had been 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.

Hot. You strain too far.

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.

:

bulls.

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
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,

Against the bosom of the prince of Wales.

Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,

Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. O, that Glendower were come!

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 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 ransome to lie forfeited:

Disgrac'd me in my happy victories;

Sought to intrap 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

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 beimpawn'd

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 corrivals, 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!
[Exeunt severally.

АСТ Т.

SCENE I. The King's camp near Shrewsbury. Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince Joнs of LANCASTER, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and Sir JOHN FAL

STAFF.

K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer 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 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.
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?
or. 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, aud 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 haud,
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 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 enforc'd, for safety's 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 pell-mell havock 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. Ilen. 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. [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 in that word, honour? What is that 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,

SCENE II. - The rebel camp.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

[Exit.

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
diers, behind.

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, 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 king,

And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.

Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads,
And 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 modestly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
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, valued with you,
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself,

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 misconstrued in his wantonness.
Hot. Cousin, I think, thou art enamoured
Upon his follies; never did I hear
Of any prince, so wild, at liberty:-
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.—

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.

SCENE III. - Plain near Shrewsbury. Excursions, and parties fighting. Alarum to the battle. Then enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting. Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek Upon my head?

Doug. Know then, my name is Donglas; And I do haunt thee in the battle thus, Because some tell me, that thou art a king. Blunt. They tell thee true.

Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry, This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.

Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; And thou shalt find a king, that will revenge Lord Stafford's death. [They fight, and Blunt is slain.

Enter HOTSPCR.

Hot.O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king. Hot. Where?

Doug. Here.

Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full well: A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt, 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. Doug. 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. Other alarums. Enter FALSTAFF.

Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but npou 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