Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain th' appearance of the king,
'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, that the king hath won, and hath sent out
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.

North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well :
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,"
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

Out of his keeper's arms; even so my limbs,

Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,

Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!

A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel,

Must glove this hand and hence, thou sickly quoif!

Thou art a guard too wanton for the head,

Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.

Now bind my brows with iron; and approach

The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring

6

BUCKLE under life,] Buckle here means bend, and has been doubtfully derived from the Saxon bugan.

To frown upon th' enrag'd Northumberland.

Let heaven kiss earth: now, let not nature's hand

Keep the wild flood confin'd let order die ;
And let this world no longer be a stage
To feed contention in a lingering act,
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain

Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,

And darkness be the burier of the dead!

Tra. This strained passion' doth you wrong, my lord. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. Mor. The lives of all your loving complices

Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er

To stormy passion, must perforce decay.

You cast the event of war, my noble lord,

And summ'd the account of chance, before you said,—
Let us make head. It was your presurmise,
That in the dole of blows your son might drop:

You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge,
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er :
You were advis'd, his flesh was capable

Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger rang'd;
Yet did you say,-Go forth; and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action: what hath then befallen,

This strained passion, etc.] A line omitted in the folios in the 4to. it is mistakenly assigned to Umfr. or Umfrevile, who is not upon the stage. Modern editors omit to notice the fact.

That in the DOLE of blows-] The dole of blows is the dealing of blows-the distribution of them.

Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?

Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss,
Knew that we ventur'd on such dangerous seas,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten to one;
And yet we ventur'd, for the gain propos'd
Chok'd the respect of likely peril fear'd,
And, since we are o'erset, venture again.

Come, we will all put forth; body, and goods.

Mor. 'Tis more than time: and, my most noble lord,

I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth,
The gentle archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers: he is a man,
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpses,
But shadows, and the shows of men, to fight;
For that same word rebellion did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls,
And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seem'd on our side; but, for their spirits and souls,
This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,

As fish are in a pond. But now, the bishop

Turns insurrection to religion :

Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind;
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood

Of fair king Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ;
Tells them, he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke,

And more, and less, do flock to follow him.

North. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, This present grief had wip'd it from my mind.

Go in with me; and counsel every man

The aptest way for safety and revenge.

Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed:
Never so few, and never yet more need.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.-London. A Street.

Enter Sir JOHN FALSTAFF, with a small Page, bearing his sword and buckler.

Fal. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?

Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water; but for the party that owed it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.

Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me the brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me: I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.-I do here walk before thee, like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one if the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgment. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel; the juvenal, the prince your master,

whose chin is not yet fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say, his face is a faceroyal. God may finish it when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet he may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever since his father was a batchelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him.-What said master Dumbleton about the satin for my short cloak, and my slops?

Page. He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.

Fal. Let him be damned like the glutton: pray God his tongue be hotter!-A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave, to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security !-The whoreson smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up, then must they stand upon security. I had as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I looked he should have sent me two-andtwenty yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me-security. Well, he may sleep in security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of his wife shines through it and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lantern to light him.-Where's Bardolph ?

Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your worship a horse.