20

FIRST PART OF

Fal. What, Hall? How now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire ?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you merey; I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. Faith, sir John, 'tis 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 telline, Jack; whose fellows are these that come after? Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals. Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better. tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

Fal. Faith, for their poverty,-I know not where they had that: aud for their bareness,-I am sure, they never learned that of me.

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn: unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field,

Fal. What, is the king encamped?

West. He is, sir John; fear, we shall stay too
Fal. Well,

long. To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a

feast,

Fits a dull tighter, and a keen guest.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and

VERNON.

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
IVor.

It may not be.
Doug. You give him then advantage.
Not a wit.
Ver.
Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.

Hot.
His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd: stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.
You do not counsel well;
Doug.
You speak it out of fear, and cold heart.

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
(And I dare well maintain it with my life,)
If well-respected honour bid me on,

I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.

Yea, or to-night,

Hot. To-night, say I.

Ver.

Content.

Come, come, it may not be.
I wonder much, being men of such great leading,
That you forsee 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 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
You were of our determination!

Some of us love you well: and even those some

God.

Envy your great deserving, 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
Audacions 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 speaking 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 mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceiv'd 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, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd 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 commowealth;
Cries ont 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 depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life;
And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state:
To make that worse, sulfer'd his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were well plac'd,
Indeed his king.) to be incag'd in Wales,
There without ransom to lie forfeited:
Disgrac'd me in my happy victories;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence;
Rated my uncle from the council-board ;
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court;
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong:
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This bead 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 impawn'd
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
Hot. And, may be, so we shall.

flore

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 winged 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
Most 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,-
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
Whose power was in the first proportion,)
And what with Owen Glendower's absence, thence,
Who with them was a rated sinew too,

And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies,)-
I fear the power of Percy is too weak

To wage an instant trial with the king.

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 breached 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 for it! how comes
it then?

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

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty to turn your locks
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;

Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right. there's Douglas,

And Mortimer.
Arch.

No, Mortimer's not there.

Geat. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry
Percy,

And there's my lord of Worcester, and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

Arch. And so there is: but yet the king hath
drawn

The special head of all the land together ;-
The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more cor-rivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my, lord, they shall be well
oppos'd.

Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear;
Ad, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed:
For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king
Insmiss 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
To other friends; and so farewell, sir Michael.
[Exeunt severally.

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes;
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.

K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize;
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.

(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 deceiv'd our trust:
4 made us doff onr 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't? will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war?

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 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 gall, the cuckoo's bird,
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 hurlyburly innovation:

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