SCENE I.
The 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 Douglas6 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 soothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath no man than yourself:
Nay, task me to my 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
.
Hot.
Do so, and 'tis well:—
-- 382 --
Enter a Messenger.
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?
8 note
Mess.
His letters bear his mind, not I.
Hot.
His mind!
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
9 noteOn any soul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,—
-- 383 --
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 now1 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 lopt 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
Oh the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for 2 note
therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.9Q0707
Doug.
Faith, and so we should;
Where now remains a sweet reversion:
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what
Is to come in:
3 noteA comfort of retirement lives in this.
-- 384 --
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.
4 note
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, 5 note
we of the offering side
-- 385 --
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,9Q0708
That shews 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.9Q0709
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.
Hot.
He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,
6 noteThe nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales,
-- 386 --
And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside,
And bid it pass?
Ver.
7 note
All furnish'd, all in arms,
-- 387 --
8 noteAll plum'd like estridges, that with the wind
Bated like eagles having lately bath'd:
9 note
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.
1 note
I saw young Harry,—with his beaver on,
-- 388 --
2 note
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,
3 noteAnd 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 thunder-bolt,
Against the bosom of the prince of Wales:
4 note
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse—
-- 389 --
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.
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 take a muster speedily:
Dooms-day 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 it do, take it for thy labour; and if it
-- 390 --
make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage.
Bid my 5 notelieutenant 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
6 note
souc'd gurnet. I have mis-us'd 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 housholders, yeomen's sons:
enquire me out contracted batchelors, such as had
been ask'd 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, 7 note
worse than a
-- 391 --
struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I prest me none
but such toasts and butter8 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
servingmen, 9 note
younger sons to younger brothers,
revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers
of a calm world1 note
, and a long peace; 2 note
ten times more
-- 392 --
dishonourably ragged, than an old fac'd ancient!
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 3 note
gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them
-- 393 --
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, stolen from my host of saint Albans, or the rednose
inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one;
they'll find linen enough on every hedge.
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 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; 4 notegood 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.
-- 394 --
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,
To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast,
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
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,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives:—
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Doug.
Yea, or to-night.
-- 395 --
Ver.
Content.
Hot.
To-night, say I.
Ver.
Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much,
Being men of 5 notesuch 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 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 trumpets sound 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 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 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
-- 396 --
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 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 he heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came but to be duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery6 note, 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 less7 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 him,9Q0710
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
-- 397 --
He presently,—as greatness knows itself,—
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
8 noteUpon 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, 9 note
task'd the whole state.
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March
-- 398 --
(Who is, if every owner were well 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
1 noteThis 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 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
Bring him our purposes: and so farewel.
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. The archbishop's palace.
Enter the archbishop of York, and Sir Michael.
York.
Hie, good sir Michael; bear this 2 notesealed 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.
-- 399 --
Sir Mich.
My good lord,
I guess their tenor.
York.
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 3 notein the first proportion)
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
(Who with them was 4 note
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.
Sir Mich.
Why, my good lord, you need not fear;
There's Douglas and lord Mortimer.
York.
No, Mortimer is not there.
Sir Mich.
But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord 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 Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.
-- 400 --
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 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 farewel, sir Michael.
[Exeunt.
5 noteACT V.
SCENE I.
The camp at Shrewsbury.
Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
Earl of Westmoreland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Sir John Falstaff.
K. Henry.
How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon busky hill* note! the day looks pale
At his distemperature.
P. Henry.
The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet 6 noteto his purposes;
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.
-- 401 --
K. Henry.
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?
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! how comes it then?
7 note
Fal.
Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
-- 402 --
P. Henry.
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, 8 notemy staff of office did I 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 myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time9Q0711: 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 showering on your head;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you,—
What with our help; what with the absent king;
-- 403 --
What with the injuries of a wanton time9 note;
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
1 noteAs that ungentle gull, the cuckow'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 2 notewe 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 3 note
articulated,
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches;
-- 404 --
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour4 note
, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents5 note
,
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 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 head6 note,—
I do not think, a braver gentleman,
7 note
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,
-- 405 --
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 Worcester, no,
We love our people well; even those we love,
That are mis-led 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.
[Exit Worcester, and Vernon.
P. Henry.
It will not be accepted, on my life:
The Douglas 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 King, Blunt, and Prince John.
Fal.
Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, 8 noteand
bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.
-- 406 --
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 heaven a death.
9 note[Exit Prince Henry.
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. Yea, but how if honour prick me off
when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg?9Q0712
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 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: 1 noteHonour is
a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
Hotspur's camp.
Enter Worcester, and Vernon.
Wor.
O, no, my nephew must not know, sir Richard,
The liberal kind offer of the king.
Ver.
'Twere best, he did.
-- 407 --
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:
2 note
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,
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 3 note
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.
Hot.
My uncle is return'd;—Deliver up
My lord of Westmoreland.—Uncle, what news?
Wor.
The king will bid you battle presently.
-- 408 --
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 Douglas.
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,
4 noteAnd Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear it;
Which cannot chuse but bring him quickly on.
Wor.
The prince of Wales stept 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 shew'd his tasking5 note? 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;
-- 409 --
Making you ever better than his praise,
6 note
By still dispraising praise, valu'd with you:
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
7 note
He made a blushing cital of himself;
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd there8 note a double spirit,
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly.
There did he pause: But let me tell the world,—
If he out-live 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
-- 410 --
9 note
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.—
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 life1 note 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 for bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.
Mess.
My lord, prepare; the king comes on apace.
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
-- 411 --
In the adventure of this perilous day.
2 note
Now,—Esperance!—Percy!—and set on.—
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace:
3 noteFor, heaven to earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.
[The trumpets sound. They embrace, then exeunt.
SCENE III.
Plain near Shrewsbury.
The King entereth with his power. Alarum to the battle.
Then enter Douglas, and Blunt.
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 Douglas;
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;9Q0713
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death.
-- 412 --
Fight, Blunt is slain. Enter Hotspur.
Hot.
O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.9Q0714
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'd4 note
like the king himself.
Doug.
A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes5 note
!
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,
-- 413 --
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 6 note
shot-free at London,
I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the
pate.—Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt;—
there's honour for you: 7 note
Here's no vanity!—I am as
-- 414 --
hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: Heaven keep
lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine
own bowels.—I have led my raggamuffins where they
are pepper'd: 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 Prince Henry.
P. Henry.
What, stand'st thou idle here? lend me thy sword:
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff
Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies,
Whose deaths are unreveng'd: lend me thy sword.
Fal.
O Hal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to breathe a
while.—8 noteTurk Gregory never did such deeds in arms,
as I have done this day. 9 note
I have paid Percy, I have
made him sure.
P. Henry.
He is, indeed; and living to kill thee.
I pr'ythee, lend me thy sword.
Fal.
Nay, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not
my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.
P. Henry.
Give it me: What, is it in the case?
-- 415 --
Fal.
Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will
1 note
sack a city.
[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack2 note
.
P. Henry.
What, is it a time to jest and dally now?
[Throws it at him, and exit.
Fal.
3 note
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 4 note
a carbonado of me. I like
-- 416 --
not such grinning honour as sir Walter hath: Give
me life: which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes
unlook'd for, and there's an end.
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Another part of the field.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the King, the Prince, Lord
John of Lancaster, and the Earl of Westmoreland.
K. Henry.
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st5 note too much:—
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.
Lan.
Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.
P. Henry.
I beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.
K. Henry.
I will do so:—
My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
West.
Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent.
P. Henry.
Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help:
And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should drive
The prince of Wales from such a field as this;
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on,
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres!
Lan.
We breathe too long:—Come, cousin Westmoreland,
Our duty this way lies; for heaven's sake, come.
[Exeunt P. John and West.
P. Henry.
By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me, Lancaster,
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.
K. Henry.
I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
-- 417 --
Of such an ungrown warrior.9Q0715
P. Henry.
O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all!
[Exit.
Enter Douglas.
Doug.
Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads:
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them.—What art thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king?
K. Henry.
The king himself; who, Douglas, grieves at heart,
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; the King being in danger, enter Prince Henry.
P. Henry.
Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again! the spirits
Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms:
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee;
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay.—
[They fight; Douglas flyeth.
Cheerly, my lord; How fares your grace?—
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton; I'll to Clifton straight.
K. Henry.
Stay, and breathe a-while:—
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion;
And shew'd, thou mak'st some tender of my life,
-- 418 --
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.
P. Henry.
O heaven! they did me too much injury,
That ever said, I hearken'd for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you;
Which would have been as speedy in your end,
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And sav'd the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Henry.
Make up to Clifton, I'll to sir Nicholas Gawsey.
[Exit.
Enter Hotspur.
Hot.
If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth.
P. Henry.
Thou speak'st as if I would deny my name.
Hot.
My name is Harry Percy.
P. Henry.
Why, then I see
A very valiant rebel of that name.
I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
To share with me in glory any more:
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy, and the prince of Wales.
Hot.
Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
To end the one of us; And would to heaven,
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine!
P. Henry.
I'll make it greater, ere I part from thee;
And all the budding honours on thy crest
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot.
I can no longer brook thy vanities.
[Fight.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal.
Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!—Nay, you shall
find no boy's play here, I can tell you.
-- 419 --
Enter Douglas; he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as
if he were dead. Percy is wounded, and falls.
Hot.
O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth:
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than 6 note
those proud titles thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword my flesh:—
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue:—No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for—
[Dies.
P. Henry.
For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee well, great heart!—
7 noteIll-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
8 note
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
-- 420 --
Is room enough:—This earth, that bears thee dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
I should not make so great a show of zeal:—
9 note
But let my favours hide thy mangled face;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!—
[He sees Falstaff on the ground.
What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewel!
I could have better spar'd a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck 1 note
so fat a deer to-day,
-- 421 --
Though 2 notemany dearer, in this bloody fray:—
Imbowell'd will I see thee by and by;
'Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie.
[Exit.
Falstaff, rising slowly.
Fal.
Imbowell'd! if thou imbowel me to-day, I'll
give you leave 3 noteto powder me, and eat me too, tomorrow.
'Sblood, 'twas time to counterfeit, or that
hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too.
Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die, is
to be a counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a
man, who hath not the life of a man: but to counterfeit
dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no
counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed.
The better part of valour is—discretion; in
the which better part, I have saved my life. I am
afraid of this gun-powder Percy4 note
, though he be dead:
How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? I am
afraid, he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore
I'll make him sure: yea, and I'll swear I kill'd
him. Why may he not rise, as well as I? Nothing
confutes me but eyes, and no body sees me.—Therefore,
sirrah, with a new wound in your thigh, come
you along with me.9Q0717.
[Takes Hotspur on his back.
Re-enter Prince Henry, and John of Lancaster.
P. Henry.
Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou flesh'd
Thy maiden sword.
Lan.
But, soft! who have we here?
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead?
-- 422 --
P. Henry.
I did; I saw him dead, breathless and bleeding
Upon the ground.—
Art thou alive? or is it fantasy
That plays upon our eye-sight? I pr'ythee, speak;
We will not trust our eyes, without our ears:—
Thou art not what thou seem'st.
Fal.
No, that's certain; I am not 5 notea double man:
but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack.
There is Percy: [throwing the body down] if your father
will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill
the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or
duke, I can assure you.
P. Henry.
Why, Percy I kill'd myself, and saw
thee dead.
Fal.
Didst thou?—Lord, lord, how this world is
given to lying!—I grant you, I was down, and out of
breath; and so was he: but we rose both at an instant,
and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I
may be believ'd, so; if not, let them, that should reward
valour, bear the sin upon their own heads. I'll
take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the
thigh6 note: if the man were alive, and would deny it, I
would make him eat a piece of my sword.
Lan.
This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.
P. Henry.
This is the strangest fellow, brother John.—
-- 423 --
Come bring your luggage nobly on your back:
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
[A retreat is sounded.
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours.
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead.
[Exeunt.
Fal.
I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He that
rewards me, heaven reward him! If I do grow great,
I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave sack, and live
cleanly, as a nobleman should do.
[Exit, bearing off the body.
SCENE V.
Another part of the field.
The trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales,
Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmoreland, with
Worcester, and Vernon, prisoners.
K. Henry.
Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.—
Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you?
And would'st thou turn our offers contrary?
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day,
A noble earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,
If, like a christian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
Wor.
What I have done, my safety urg'd me to;
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
K. Henry.
Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too:
Other offenders we will pause upon.—
[Exeunt Worcester, and Vernon, guarded.
How goes the field?
-- 424 --
P. Henry.
The noble7 note Scot, lord Douglas, when he saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear,—fled with the rest;
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace,
I may dispose of him.
K. Henry.
With all my heart.
P. Henry.
Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honourable bounty shall belong:
Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free:
His valour, shewn upon our crests to-day,
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
Even in the bosom of our adversaries8 note
.
K. Henry.
Then this remains,—that we divide our power.—
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed,
To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms:
Myself,—and you, son Harry,—will towards Wales,
To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day:
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave 'till all our own be won.
[Exeunt.
