Douglas.
Hot.
Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking truth,
In this fine age were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas5 note 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 soothers6 note
; 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 him7 note
.
-- 353 --
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 time8 note
? Who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
Mess.
His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord9 note
.
-- 354 --
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 sickness9 note
—
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'd1 note
, 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:
-- 355 --
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now2 note
;
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 fortunes3 note
.
-- 356 --
Doug.
'Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains4 note
a sweet reversion:
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in5 note
:
A comfort of retirement6 note 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 attempt7 note
-- 357 --
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 side8 note
-- 358 --
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 fear9 note
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 fear1 note.
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.
-- 359 --
Hot.
He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales2 note,
And his comrádes, 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'd3 note
note
;
-- 360 --
Glittering in golden coats, like images4 note
;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
-- 361 --
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
-- 362 --
I saw young Harry,—with his beaver on5 note
10Q0025,
His cuisses on his thighs6 note
, gallantly arm'd,—
-- 363 --
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted7 note with such ease into his seat,
-- 364 --
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a firy Pegasus8 note,
-- 365 --
And witch the world9 note
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 horse1 note,
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!
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.
-- 366 --
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 publick 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
it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage.
Bid my lieutenant Peto1 note 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 gurnet2 note
. I have misused the king's press
-- 367 --
damnably3 note. I have got, in exchange of a hundred
and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds.
I press me none but good householders4 note, 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-duck5 note
. I pressed
-- 368 --
me none but such toasts and butter6 note
, 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 brothers7 note
, revolted tapsters, and
ostlers trade fallen; the cankers of a calm world,
-- 369 --
and a long peace8 note; ten times more dishonourable
ragged than an old faced ancient9 note
: and such have
-- 370 --
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 betwixt the
legs, as if they had gyves on1 note
; for, indeed, I
had the most of them out of prison. There's but
a shirt and a half2 note
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 St. Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper
of Daintry3 note. But that's all one; they'll
find linen4 note enough on every hedge.
-- 371 --
Enter Prince Henry and Westmoreland.
P. Henry.
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 night5 note
.
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 toss6 note
; food for
powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as
better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.
-- 372 --
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,
-- 373 --
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives7 note
:—
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Doug.
Yea, or to-night.
Ver.
Content.
Hot.
To-night, say I.
Ver.
Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being men of such great leading as you are8 note
,
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 of himself9 note.
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.
Blunt.
I come with gracious offers from the king,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.
-- 374 --
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 quality1 note,
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 griefs2 note; 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,
-- 375 --
Did give him that same royalty he wears3 note
:
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 livery4 note
, and beg his peace;
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,
-- 376 --
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 less5 note
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 him6 note
,
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 Ravenspurg7 note;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some straight 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.
-- 377 --
In short time after, he depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life;
And, in the neck of that8 note, task'd the whole state9 note
:
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 Wales1 note
,
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 safety2 note; 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.
-- 378 --
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!
[Exeunt.
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 brief3 note,
With winged haste to the lord marshal4 note;
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 do5 note
.
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,
-- 379 --
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
(Whose power was in the first proportion6 note,)
And what with Owen Glendower's absence, thence,
(Who with them was a rated sinew too7 note,
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, my good lord, you need not fear; there's Douglas,
And lord Mortimer8 note
.
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,—
-- 380 --
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.
9 note
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
