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.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
