K. H.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breath short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
Shall dawb ^note her lips with her own children's blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets ^note with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,14Q0603
Which,—like the meteors of a troubl'd heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,—
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies ^note:

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier ^note now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight)
Forthwith a power of English shall we lead; ^{note note}14Q0604
Whose arms were molded in their mothers' wombs ^note
To chase these pagans, in those ^note holy fields
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is ^note a twelve-month ^note old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you—we will go,
Therefore, we meet not now: Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear ^note expedience.

Wes.
My liege, this haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,—that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And ^note a full thousand of his people butcher'd:
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, retold or spoken of.

K. H.
It seems then, that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the holy land.

Wes.
This, match'd ^note with other, did, my ^note gracious lord;
For ^note more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did import ^note.
On holy-rood day, the gallant Hot-spur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever ^note-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,
Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,
And shape of likelihood, the ^note news was told;
For he that brought it, ^note in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. H.
Here is a dear and true ^note industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd ^note with the variation ^note of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome ^note news.
The earl of Douglas is discomfited;
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and ^note twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains ^note: Of prisoners,14Q0605 Hot-spur took
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Douglas; and, with him, the earls ^note
Of Athol, Murray, ^{note note} Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?

Wes.
It is14Q0606 a conquest for a prince to boast of.

K. H.
Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin,
In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so ^note blest a son:

A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straitest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-cloths ^note our children where they lay ^note,
And call'd mine—Percy, his—Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts:—What think you, coz', ^note
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpriz'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.

Wes.
This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspécts;
Which makes him prune ^note himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. H.
But I have sent for him to answer this;
And, for this cause, a while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on wednesday next our council we
Will hold ^note at Windsor, so ^note inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.

Wes.
I will, my liege. [Exeunt.

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