1 For you, my ftaff of office I did break In Richard's time, and posted day and night It was my felf, my brother, and his fon, 2 As that ungentle gull, the Cuckow's bird, Ufeth the Sparrow, did opprefs our neft, Grew by our feeding to fo great a bulk, That ev'n our love durft not come near your fight For fear of fwallowing; but with nimble wing We were inforc'd for fafety's fake to fly Out of your fight, and raise this prefent head, My faff of office.] See Richard the fecond. As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird.] The cuckow's chicken, who, being hatch ed and fed by the fparrow, in whofe neft the cuckow's egg was laid, grows in time able to devour her nurfe. Whereby 3 Whereby we stand opposed by such means Sworn to us in your younger enterprize. K. Henry. These things, indeed, you have articulated, With fome fine colour, that may please the eye And never yet did Infurrection want P. Henry. In both our armies there is many a foul I do not think a braver gentleman, And fo, I hear, he doth account me too. 3 We fand opprfed, &c.] We fand in oppofition to you. 4 More active-valiant, or more valiant-yourg.] Sir T. Han P3 mer reads, more valued young. I think the prefent gingle has more of Shakespeare. K. Henry. K. Henry. And, Prince of Wales, fo dare we venture thee, Albeit, Confiderations infinite Do make against it. No, good Wor'ster, no, [Exit Worcester, with Vernon. K. Henry. Hence, therefore, every Leader to his Charge. For on their anfwer we will fet on them. And God befriend us, as our caufe is juft! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Manent Prince Henry and Falftaff. Fal. Hal, if thou fee me down in the battle,' and beflride me, fo; 'tis a point of friendship. P. Lenry. Nothing but a Coloffus 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 oweft heav'n a death. [Exit P. Henry. Fal. 'Tis not due yet: I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be fo forward with im that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, honour This exit is remarked by Mr. Upton. pricks me on; but how if honour prick me off, when I come on how then? Can honour fet to a leg? no: or an arm? no or take away the grief of a wound? no: honour hath no fkill in furgery 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 infenfible then? yea, to the dead; but will it not live with the living? no; why? Detraction will not fuffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it; honour is a meer fcutcheon, and fo ends my catechifm. [Exit. Wer. Changes to Percy's Camp. Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon. No, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, The liberal kind offer of the King. Ver. 'Twere beft, he did. Wer. Then we are all undone. It is not poffible, it cannot be, The King fhould keep his word in loving us; To punish this offence in other faults. Sufpicion, all our lives, fhall be fuck full of eyes; For treafon is but trufted like a Fox, Who ne'er fo tame, fo cherifh'd, and lock'd up, 6 Sfpicion, all our lives, fall 5 honour is a mere fcutcheon,] proceffions. And by meer fcutcheon This is very fine. The reward is infinuated, that whether alive of brave actions formerly was or dead, honour was but a name. only fome honourable bearing in WARBURTON, the shields of arms bestow'd upon defervers. But Falstaff having faid that honour often came not till after death, he calls it very wittily a fcut heon, which is the painted heraldry borne in funeral be fuck full of eyes.] The fame image of Jufpicion is exhibited in a Latin tragedy, called Roxana, written about the fame time by Dr. William Alablofter. P4 Will Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. 3 A hair-brain'd Hot-Spur, govern'd by a Spleen : And on his father's; we did train him on ; Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll fay, 'tis fo. Enter Hot fpur and Dowglas. Hot. My uncle is return'd. -Deliver up my lord of Westmorland. -Uncle, what news? Wor. The King will bid you battle presently. Dowg. Defy him by the lord of Westmorland. Hot. Lord Dowglas, go you then and tell him so. Dowg. Marry, I fhall; and very willingly. [Exit Dowglas, Wer. There is no feeming mercy in the King. Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid! Wer. I told him gently of our grievances, Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, By now forfwearing that he is forfworn. 7 An adopted name of privilege, name of Hot-four will privilege A heir-brain'a Hot-fpur.] The him from cenfure. He |