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, 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 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, ^{1 note}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 IV. Changes to Shrewsbury. Enter Hot-spur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.

Hot.
We'll fight with him to night.

Wor.
It may not be.

Dowg.
You give him then advantage.

Ver.
Not a whit.

Hot.
Why say you so? looks he not for supply?

Ver.
So do we.

Hot.
He is certain, ours is doubtful.

Wor.
Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to night.

Ver.
Do not, my lord.

Dowg.
You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and from cold heart.

Ver.
Do me no slander, Dowglas; 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.

Dowg.
Yea, or to night.

Ver.
Content.

Hot.
To night, say I.

Ver.
Come, come, it may not be: I wonder much,
Being men of ^{2 note}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,
That not a horse is half half of himself.

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 God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. [The trumpets sound a parley. SCENE V. 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 God,
You were of our determination;
Some of us love you well; and ev'n 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 heav'n 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 your self, and these,
Herein mis-led 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 Out-law, sneaking home,
My father gave him welcome to the shore;
And when we heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came to be but Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery and beg his peace,
With tears of innocence 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,
They, 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 following 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,
^{3 note}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 Common-wealth;
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 that the absent King
In Deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.

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, * ^notetask'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 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
^{4 note}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 awhile.
—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
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 heav'n, you do! [Exeunt. SCENE VI. Changes to the Archbishop of York's Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York, and Sir Michaell.

York.
Hie, good Sir Michaell, bear this ^{5 note}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 wou'd make haste.

Sir Mich.
My lord, I guess their tenour.

York.
Like enough.
To morrow, good Sir Michaell, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch; for, Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly giv'n to understand,
The King, with mighty and quick-raised power,
Meets with lord Harry; and, I fear, Sir Michaell,
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
Whose pow'r was * ^notein the first proportion,
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
Who with them was ^{6 note}

And comes not in, o'er-rul'd by prophecies.
I fear the pow'r of Percy is too weak,
To wage an instant tryal with the King.

Sir Mich.
Why, my good lord, there's Dowglas, and lord Mortimer.

York.
No, Mortimer is not there.

Sir Mich.
But there is Mordake, Vernon, Harry Percy,
And there's my lord of Worcester, and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

York.
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 Westmorland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

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

York.
I hope no less; yet, needful 'tis to fear.
And to prevent the worst, Sir Michaell, 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 farewel, Sir Michaell. [Exeunt.

7 ^noteACT V.

SCENE I. The Camp at Shrewsbury. Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmorland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff.

K. Henry.
How bloodily the Sun begins to peer
Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale
At his distemperature.

P. Henry.
The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet ^{8 note}to his purposes,
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretels a tempest, and a blust'ring day.

K. Henry.
Then with the losers let it sympathize,
For nothing can seem foul to those that win. [The Trumpet sounds. Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

K. Henry.
How now, my lord of Wor'ster? '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 easie 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. Henry.
You have not sought it, Sir? how comes it then?

^{9 note}
Fal.
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

P. Henry.
Peace, Chewet, peace.

Wor.
It pleas'd your Majesty, to turn your looks
Of favour from my self, and all our House,
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends;

For you, ^{1 note}my staff of office I did break
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 my self, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
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 sware our aid; but in short space
It rain'd down fortune show'ring 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 suff'rances that you had borne,
And the contrarious winds that held the King
So long in the 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 gen'ral Sway into your hand;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster,
And being fed by us, you us'd us so,
^{2 note}As that ungentle gull, the Cuckow's bird,
Useth the Sparrow, did oppress our nest,
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,
That ev'n our love durst not come near your sight
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were inforc'd for safety's sake to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head,

Whereby ^{3 note}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. Henry.
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 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 havock and confusion.

P. Henry.
In both our armies there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this bold encounter,
If once they join in tryal. 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,
^{4 note}More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deed.
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. Henry.
And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
Albeit, Considerations infinite
Do make against it. No, good Wor'ster, 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 return 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. [Exit Worcester, with Vernon.

P. Henry.
It will not be accepted, on my life.
The Dowglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Henry.
Hence, therefore, every Leader to his Charge.
For on their answer we will set on them.
And God befriend us, as our cause is just! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Manent Prince Henry and Falstaff.

Fal.

Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Henry.

Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewel.

Fal.

I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.

P. Henry.

Why, thou owest heav'n a death.

Fal.

'Tis not due yet: I would be loth 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; 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 dy'd a 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; ^{5 note}honour is a meer scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.