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Of every beardless vain comparative*:
PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST DEFENCE OF HIMSELF.
God forgive them, that have so much sway'd
shame with it. And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, That this same child of honour and renown, This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet: For
every honour sitting on his helm, 'Would they were multitudes; and on my head * Rival.
My shames redoubled! for the time will come
A GALLANT WARRIOR.
I saw young Harry,--with his beaver on,
HOTSPUR'S IMPATIENCE FOR THE BATTLE.
Armour. § Bewitch, charm.
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
horse, Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, Against the bosom of the prince of Wales: Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.O, that Glendower were come!
ACT V. PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST CHALLENGE. Tell your nephew, The prince of Wales doth join with all the world In praise of Henry Percy: By my hopes,This present enterprise set off his head, I do not think a braver gentleman, More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, More daring, or more bold, is now alive, To grace this latter
with noble deeds.
FALSTAFF'S CATECHISM. 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? No. Or an arm? No.
Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery
What is honour? A word. What is in that word? Honour. What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning.- Who hath it? He that died 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. Honour is a mere escutcheon*, and so ends my catechism.
LIFE DEMANDS ACTION.
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
PRINCE HENRY'S PATHETIC SPEECH ON THE DEATH
Brave Percy, fare thee well. Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; But now, two paces of the vilest earth 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 dear a show of zeal: But let my favourst 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 ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not remember'd in thy epitaph! * Painted heraldry in funerals. + Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face.
KING HENRY IV.
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
After him, came, spurring hard,