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SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp.- Enter WORCESTER and

Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard,
The liberal 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 shall be all 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, governd 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.
Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; and Officers and Soldiers,

Hot. My uncle is return'd:-Deliver up
My lord of Westmoreland.—Uncle, what news?
Wor. The king will bid you battle presently.
Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly.

[E.rit. Wor. There is no seeming

mercy in the king.
Hot. Did you beg any ? God forbid !
Wor. I told him gently of our grievances,
Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus,-
By now forswearing that he is forsworn:
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.

Re-enter DOUGLAS.
Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown
A brave defiance in king Henry's teeth,
And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.

Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king And, nephew, challenged you to single tight.

Hot: O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads;
And that no man might draw short breath to-day,
But I, and Harry Monmouth!: Tell me, tell me,
How show'd his tasking ? seem'd it in contempt ?

Ver. No, by my soul; I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urged 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 owet so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.

Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamour'd
Upon his follies; never did I hear
Of any prince, só wild, at liberty :I-
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.-
Arm, arm, with speed :

-And, fellows, soldiers, friends,
Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.

Hot. cannot read them now.-
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely, were too long
If life did ride upon a dial's point,
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 conscience,-the arms are fair,
When the intent of 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,

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* Recital.

† Own.

* I.e. not confined as a madman.

For I profess not talking; Only this
Let each man do his best; and here draw I

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,-Espérance !-- 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.

[The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.

SCENE III.-Plain near Shrewsbury.

Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the Battle. Then

enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting. Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek Upon my head ?

Doug. Know, then, my name is Douglas;
And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,
Because some tell me that thou art a king:

Blunt. They tell thee true.
Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought
Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry,
This sword hath ended him: so shall it thee,
Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.

Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot;
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge
Lord Stafford's death.

[They fight, and BLUNT is slain.

Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus,
I never had triúmph'd upon a Scot.

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the king.
Hot. Where?
Doug. Here.
Hot. This, Douglas ? no, I know this face full well:
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt;
Semblablyt 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 ?

Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats;
I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,
Until I meet the king.

Hot. Up, and away;
Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day.

[Exeunt. 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 raggamuffins 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 here?

* I.e. wagered against.

† Similarly.

Enter PRINCE HENRY. P. Hen. What, stand’st thou idle here? lend me thy sword: Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are unrevenged: Prythee, lend thy sword.

Fal. O Hal, I prythee, give me leave to breathe a while.Turk Gregory* never did such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure.

P. Hen. He is, indeed, and living to kill thee. Lend me thy sword, I prythee.

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou get'st not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt.

P. Hen. Give it me: What, is it in the case ?
Fal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's that will sack a city.

[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. P. Hen. What is't a time to jest and dally now?

[Throws it at him and exit. Fal. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce him. If he do come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him make a carbonadot of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath : Give me life : which if I can save, so; if not, honour comes unlooked for, and there's an end.

[Exit. SCENE IV.-Another part of the Field. Alarums. Excursions.-Enter the KING, PRINCE HENRY,

K. Hen. I proythee,
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleedst too much :-
Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him.

P. John. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too.

P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make up,
Lest your retirement do amaze your friends.

K. Hen. I will do so :-
My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his tent.
West. Come, my lord, I will lead you to your tent.

P. Hen. Lead me, my lord, I do not need your help:
And heaven forbid, a shallow scratch should drive
The prince of Wales from such a field as this:
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on,

* I. e. Pope Gregory VII. † A piece of meat cut crossways for the gridiron.

And rebels' arms triumph in massacres !

P. John. We breathe too long: come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies: for God's sake, come.

P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I loved thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.

K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the point,
With lustier maintenance than I did look for
Of such an ungrown warrior.

P. Hen. O, this boy
Lends mettle to us all !

Alarums.-Enter DOUGLAS.
Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads :
I am the Douglas fatal to all those
That wear those colours on them.-What art thou,
That counterfeit'st the person of a king ?

K. Hen. The king himself ; who, Douglas grieves at heart,
So many of his shadows thou hast met,
And not the very king; I have two boys,
Seek Percy, and thyself, about the field:
But, seeing thou fall’st on me so luckily,
I will assay thee; so defend thyself.

Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit;
And yet, in faith, thou bear’st thee like a king :
But mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be,
And thus I win thee.

[They fight; the King being in danger, enter PRINCE HENRY,

P. Hen. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like
Never to hold it up again! the spirits
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my arms:
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee;
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay.-

[They fight; DOUGLAS flies.
Cheerly, my lord; How fares your grace?-
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton; I'll to Clifton straight,

K. Hen. Stay, and breathe awhile :-
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion ;*
And show'd thou mak'st some tender of my life,
In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me.

P. Hen. O heaven! they did me too much injury,
That ever said, I hearken'd for your death.
If it were so, I might have let alone
The insulting hand of Douglas over you ;
Which would have been as speedy in your end
As all the poisonous potions in the world,
And saved the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey.

[Exit KING HENEY, * Reputation.

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