SCENE I.-The Rebel 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 Douglas 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 him.

Enter a Messenger with letters. 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?

Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'y thee 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 feared 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 enterprise :
'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
On
any
soul removed, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement
That with our small conjunction we should on,
To see how fortune is disposed to us:
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the King is certainly possessed
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 lopped off.
And yet, in faith, 't is 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
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good: for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

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.

A comfort of retirement lives in this.

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. 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.

I rather of his absence make this use:-
It lends a lustre and more great opinion,
A larger dare, to our great enterprise,
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.

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 Westmorland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards : with him Prince John. Hot. No harm. What more?

Ver.

And further, I have learned
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,
The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daffed the world aside,
And bid it pass?

Ver.

All furnished, all in arms:

All plumed like estridges that wing the wind;
Bated like eagles having lately bathed ;
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.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armed,
Rise from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat
As if an angel had dropped down from the clouds
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

And 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-eyed maid of smoky war,

I learned 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 make a muster speedily:
Doomsday 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 public 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 if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all: I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end.

Bard. I will, captain: farewell.

[Exit.

Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the King's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundredand-fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders; yeomen's sons inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked 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 worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter, 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 serving-men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an oldfaced ancient. And such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundredand-fifty tattered 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 pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them; that's flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on: for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves: and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper of Da'entry. But that's all one: they 'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter PRINCE HENRY and WESTMORLAND. P. Hen. 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 Westmorland, I cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, Sir John, 't is 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. Hen. 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?

Being men of such 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 is full of rest.

Wor. The number of the King exceedeth ours: For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

[The trumpet sounds 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 God 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
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 misled 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 outlaw 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 livery, and beg his peace
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,
My father, in kind heart and pity moved,
Swore him assistance, and performed it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee:
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes;
Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths;
Gave him their heirs; as pages followed him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows itself,
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon 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 deposed the King; Soon after that deprived him of his life; And, in the neck of that, tasked the whole state: To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well placed, Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales, There without ransom to lie forfeited: Disgraced me in my happy victories : Sought to entrap me by intelligence; Rated my uncle from the council-board; In rage dismissed my father from the court; Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong; And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out This 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 awhile.

Go to the King: and let there be impawned
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
Bring him our purposes: and so farewell.
Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and
love.

Hot. And 't may be, so we shall.
Blunt. 'Pray heaven you do!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-York. A Room in the ARCHBISHOP'S House.

Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK and a Gentleman. Arch. Hie, good Sir Michael: bear this sealed

brief

With wingéd haste to the lord mareschal :
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.
Gent. My good lord, I guess their tenor.
Arch. 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,

The special head of all the land together:
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmorland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.

Arch. I hope no less; yet needful 't is 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

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE I. The KING's Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter KING HENRY, PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, SIR WALTER BLUNT, and SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.

K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer Above yon busky hill! The day looks pale At his distemperature.

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 deceived 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 it? 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 exhaled 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. Hen. You have not sought it! how comes

it, then?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleased 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 my 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 time. 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-fallen right, The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster: To this we swore our aid. But in short space It rained down fortune showering on your head, And such a flood of greatness fell on you,What with our help, what with the absent King, What with the injuries of a wanton time, 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,