Douglas.
Hotspur.
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 gen'ral 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 my word; approve me, Lord.
Dou.
Thou art the king of honour;
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.
Enter a Messenger.
Hot.
Do so, and 'tis well—what letters hast thou there?—
Mes.
These come from your father.
Hot.
Letters from him? why comes he not himself?
Mes.
He cannot come, my Lord; he's grievous sick.
Hot.
Heavens! how has he the leisure to be sick* note,
In such a justling time? who leads his power?
Under whose government come they along?
Mes.
His letters bear his mind, not I, my Lord.
Hot.
His mind!
Wor.
I pr'ythee tell me, doth he keep his bed?
Mes.
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.
[Exit.
-- 54 --
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:
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 possest
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor.
I well could wish 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.
This absence of your father draws a curtain,
That shews the ignorant a kind of fear,
Before not dreamt upon.
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.
Dou.
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 heaven my news be worth a welcome, Lord.
-- 55 --
The earl of Westmorland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherward, with Prince John.
Hot.
No harm: what more?
Ver.
And further, I have learn'd,
The King himself in person hath 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 daft the world aside,
And bid it pass?
Ver.
All furnish'd, all in arms* note,
All plum'd like estridges, that with the wind
Baited 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 dropt 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 smokey 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,
-- 56 --
Who is to bear me, like a thunder-bolt,
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry shall (and horse to horse)
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a coarse.
Oh, 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,
Dou.
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 power of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily;
Doom's-day is near: die all, die merrily.
[A march.
[Exeunt
Scene
SCENE changes to 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-colfield, to-night.
Bard.
Will you give me money, captain?
Fal.
Lay out, lay out.
Bard.
This bottle makes an angel.
Fal.
And 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; farewel.
[Exit.
Fal.
If I be not asham'd of my soldiers, I am a souc'd
gurnet: I have mis-us'd the King's press, damnably.
I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers,
three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none
but good housholders, yeomens sons; inquire me out
contracted bachelors, such as had been ask'd twice on
the banns; such a commodity of warm slaves as had
-- 57 --
as lieve hear the devil, as a drum; such as fear the report
of a caliber worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt
wild-duck. I press 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, and such as indeed were never soldiers,
but discarded unjust serving-men, younger sons
to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fall'n,
the cankers of a calm world and long peace;
and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have
bought out their services, that you would think I had
a hundred and fifty tatter'd 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 press'd 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* note 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 tack'd together, and thrown
over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without sleeves:
and the shirt, to say the truth, stol'n from my host of
St. Albans, or the red-nos'd innkeeper of Daintry. But
that's all one, they'll find linen enough, on every
hedge† note.
Enter Prince Henry and Westmorland.
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 Westmorland,
-- 58 --
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, to-night.
Fal.
Tut, never fear me, I am as vigilant, as a cat
to steal cream.
P. Henry.
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. Henry.
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
learn'd that of me.
P. Henry.
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 encamp'd?
West.
He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long.
Fal.
Well,
The latter end of a fray, and beginning of a feast,
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.
[Exeunt.
Scene
SCENE changes to Shrewsbury.
[A march.
Enter Hot-spur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon.
Hot.
We'll fight with him, to-night.
Wor.
It may not be.
Dou.
You give him then advantage.
Ver.
Not a whit.
Hot.
Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver.
So do we.
-- 59 --
Hot.
He is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor.
Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not, to-night.
Ver.
Do not, my Lord.
Dou.
You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and from 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,
As you, my Lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen, to-morrow, in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Dou.
Yea, or to-night.
Ver.
Content.
Hot.
To-night, say I* note
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;
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.
Hot.
So are the horses of the enemy,
In gen'ral, journey-bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of rest.
Wor.
The number of the King's exceedeth ours.
For heaven'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 heaven
You were of our determination:
Some of us love you well; and ev'n those some
Envy your great deservings, and good name,
-- 60 --
Because you are not of our quality,
But stand against us like an enemy.
Blunt.
And heaven 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* note.
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 out-law, sneaking home,
My father gave him welcome to the shore;
And when we heard him swear, and vow to heaven,
He came to be but Duke of Lancaster,
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,
They, more or less, came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
As pages followed him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows itself,
Steps me a little higher than his vow
-- 61 --
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 lay 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 fav'rites of the absent King,
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war* note.
Blunt.
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 right plac'd,
Indeed, his King) to be engag'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 too, 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, a while.
Go to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safe return again;
And in the morning early shall my uncle
-- 62 --
Bring him our purposes: and so farewel.
Blunt.
I would you would accept of grace and love!
Hot.
It may be so we shall.
Blunt.
Pray heaven, you do!
[Exeunt.* note
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
