Trumpet sounds. Enter WORCESTER and
VERNON.

How now, my lord of Worcester? 't is not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd 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 exhal'd 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,a peace.

WOR. It pleas'd 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-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rain'd 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,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand:
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,b
Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest,
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,

That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head;
Whereby we stand opposed by such means

As you yourself have forg'd against yourself, By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, And violation of all faith and troth

·*

Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

K. HEN. These things, indeed, you have arti-
culated,

Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches,
To face the garment of rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurly-burly innovation :

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pell-mell havoc and confusion.

P. HEN. In both our armies, there is many
a soul

Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
If once they join in trial. 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 age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry ;
And so, I hear, he doth account me too:
Yet this, before my father's majesty,-
I am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation,
And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

K. HEN. And, prince of Wales, so dare we
venture thee,

Albeit, considerations infinite

Do make against it.-No, good Worcester, no,
We love our people well; even those we love,
That are misled upon your cousin's part;
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his :
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do:-but if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. be gone;
We will not now be troubled with reply;
We offer fair, take it advisedly.

So,

[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON.

(*) First folio omits, your.

By gull was meant a young unfeathered bird. The cuckoo often lays its eggs in the sparrow's nest, and when the chicken or cuckoo's bird, hatched and reared by the sparrow, grows of bulk and strength enough, it frequently expels its nurse.

life:

P. HEN. It will not be accepted, on my
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.
K. HEN. Hence, therefore, every leader to his
charge;

For, on their answer, will we set on them:
And God befriend us, as our cause is just!

[Exeunt KING, BLUNT, and PRINCE JOHN. FAL. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 't is a point of friendship.

P. HEN. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. FAL. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.

P. HEN. Why, thou owest God* a death. [Exit. FAL. "T is not due yet; I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 't is 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 then? No. What is Honour? A word. What is that word, 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 'scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.

SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

[Exit.

WOR. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir Richard, (1)

The liberal and ‡ kind offer of the king.

VER. "Twere best, he did.
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:
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 an adopted name of privilege,-
A hair-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.

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;
Making you ever better than his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valued with you:
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself,
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd there a double spirit,
Of teaching and of learning, instantly.

There did he pause. But let me tell the world,-
If he outlive 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
On his follies; never did I hear

And thou shalt find a king that will revenge Lord Stafford's death.

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 oft 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 It
A sword, whose § temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now,-Esperance !-Percy!-and set on.-
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace:
For, heaven to earth," some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.

[Flourish of trumpets. They embrace,
and exeunt.

[They fight, and BLUNT is slain.

Enter HOTSPUR.

Hor. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,

I never had triumphéd o'er a Scot.

DOUG. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king.

HOT. Where? DOUG. Here.

Hor. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full well:

A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt,
Semblably furnish'd like the king himself.
DOUG. A+ fool go with thy soul, whither it
goes:

A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
Hor. The king hath many marching in his

coats.

DOUG. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his

Other Alarums. Enter FALSTAFF.

FAL. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter Blunt!there's Honour for you! Here's no vanity!-I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too: God‡ keep lead out of me! I need no more weight than mine own bowels.-I have led my ragamuffins § where they are peppered: there's but three of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are ¶ for the town's end, to beg during life. But who comes