K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale At his distemperature.
The southern wind 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;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel;
That 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?
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 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 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,
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 ar-
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches;
ticulated,
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour, that may please the eyc
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 pellmell 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;
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. So, be gone;
We will not now be troubled with reply:
We offer fair, take it advisedly.
[Exeunt Worcester and Vernon. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life; 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; 'tis 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. 'Tis not due yet: I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis 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 in that word, honour? What is that 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? There did he pause: But let me tell the world,Detraction will not suffer it :-therefore I'll none If he outlive the envy of this day,
of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.
SCENE II. The Rebel Camp.
Enter Worcester and Vernon!
England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantouness.
Hot. Cousin, I think thon art enamoured
Upon his follies; never did I hear
Of any prince, so wild, at liberty:
Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir But, be he as he will, yet once ere night
Richard,
The liberal kind offer of the king.
Ver. "Twere best, he did.
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,
nterpretation 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,
t hath the excuse of youuh, and heat of blood;
And an adopted name of privilege,-
A hare-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 consin, 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.
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That be 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.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now.
O gentlemen, the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely, were too .ong,
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 consciences,-the arms are fair
When the intent of bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.
Mess. My lord, prepare: the king comes on
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 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.
Enter Hotspur and Douglas: and Officers and Now,-Esperance!-Percy!-and
Soldiers, behind.
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 ford of Westmoreland.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly.
[Exit.
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 aus,
By now forswearing that he is forsworn:
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
set on.-
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that musick 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
SCENE III. Plain near Shrewsbury. Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum to the Battle. Then enter Dougías und Blunt, meeting.
Thou crossest me? what honour dost thou seek
Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus
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.
Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have Blunt. They tell thee true.
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,.
And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did bear
it ;
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before
the king,
And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight.
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 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.
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.
Enter Hotspur.
Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holme-
don thus,
I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.
Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless
lies the king.
Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full
well:
A gallant knight he was, nes 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?
Doug. Another king! they grow like Hydra's heads;
I am the Douglas, fatal to all those
Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at Lon-That wear those colours on them.-What art thou, don, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but That counterfeit'st the person of a king? upon the pate.-Soft! who art thou? Sir Walter K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, Blunt;-there's honour for you: Here's no vagrieves at heart, nity I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy So many of his shadows thou hast met, too: God keep lead out of me! I need no more And not the very king. I have two boys, weight than mine own bowels.-I have led my Seek Percy, and thy self, about the field: raggamuffins where they are peppered: there's But, seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily, but three of my hundred and fifty left alive; and I will assay thee; so defend thyself. they are for the town's end, to beg during life. Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit ; But who comes here? 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.
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 carbonado 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.
SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter the King, Prince
Henry, Prince John, and Westmoreland.
K. Hen. I pr'ythee,
[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:
1t is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee,
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay.
Cheerly, my lord: How fares your grace ?-
[They fight; Douglas flies.
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent,
And so hath Clifton; I'll to Clifton straight.
K. Hen. Stay, and breathe a while:-
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 in-
jury,
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 sav'd the treacherous labour of your son.
K. Hen. Make up to Clifton, I'll to Sir Nicholas
Gawsey.
[Exit King Henry.
Enter Hotspur.
Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Mon-
P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny my
Hot. My name is Harry Percy.
P. Hen.
Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too A very valiant rebel of the name.
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'll 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,
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.
[Exeunt P. John and Westmoreland.
P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceiv'd me,
Lancaster,
I did not think thee lord of such a spirit:
Before, I lov'd thee as a brother, John;
But now, I do respect thee as my soul.
I am the prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
To share with me in glory any more;
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy and the prince of Wales.
Hot. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come
To end the one of us: And 'would to God,
Thy name in arms were now as great as mine!
P. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from
And all the budding honours on thy crest,
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head.
Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities.
Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!-Nay, you shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you. Enter Douglas; he fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead, and exit Douglas. Hotspur is wounded, and falls.
Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my youth;
I better brook the loss of brittle life,
Than those proud tities thou hast won of me;
They wound my thoughts, worse than thy sword
my flesh :-
But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue: No, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for-
[Dies. P. Hen. For worms, brave Percy: Fare thee well, great heart!
Ill weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk!
When that this body did contain a spirit,
A kingdom for it was too small a bound;
But now, two paces of the vilest earth
Is room enough:-This earth, that bears thee
dead,
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman.
If thou wert sensible of courtesy,
should not make so dear a show of zeal :-
But let my favours hide thy mangled face;
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven!
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph!-
[He sees Falstaff on the ground.
What! old acquaintance! could not all this flesh
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell!
I could have better spar'd a better man.
O, I should have a heavy miss of thee,
If I were much in love with vanity.
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day,
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray :-
Embowell'd will I see thee by and by;
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit.
Fal. [Rising slowly.] Embowelled! if thou
embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to pow-
der me, and eat me too, to-morrow. 'Sblood,
'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant
Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterteit?
I lie, I am no counterfeit: To die, is to be a
counterfeit; for he is but the counterfeit of a
man who hath not the life of a man; but to
counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth,
is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect
image of life indeed. The better part of valour
is-discretion; in the which better part, I have
saved my life. 'Zounds, I am afraid of this
gunpowder Percy, though he be dead; How, if
he should counterfeit too, and rise? I am afraid,
he would prove the better counterfeit. There-
fore I'll make him sure: yea, and I'll swear I
killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I?
Nothing confutes nie but eyes, and nobody sees
me. Therefore, sirrah, [stabbing him,] with a
new wound in your thigh, come you along with
[Takes Hotspur on his back.
and out of breath; and so was he: but we rose
both in an instant, and fought a long hour by
Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so;
it not, let them, that should reward valour, bear
the sin upon their own heads. I'll take it upon
my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh:
if the man were alive, and would deny it, 1
would make him eat a piece of my sword.
P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I
P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brotherJohn.
Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back:
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,
I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
A Retreat is sounded.
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours.
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field,
To see what friends are living, who are dead.
[Exeunt P. Hen. and P. John.
Fal. I'll follow, as they say, for reward. He
that rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow
great, I'll grow less; for I'll purge, and leave
sack, and live cleanly, as a nobleman should do.
[Exit, bearing off the body.
SCENE V. Another part of the Field.
Enter King Henry,
The Trumpets sound.
Prince Henry, Prince John, Westmoreland,
and others, with Worcester, and Vernon,
prisoners.
K. Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke.-.
Ill-spirited Worcester! did we not send
grace,
Pardon, and terms of love to all of you
And would'st thou turn our offers contrary!
Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust?
Three knights upon our party slain to-day,
A noble earl, and many a creature else,
Had been alive this hour,
If, like a christian, thou hadst truly borne
Betwixt our armies true intelligence.
Wor. What I have done, my safety urg'd me to,
And I embrace this fortune patiently,
Since not to be avoided it falls on me.
K. Hen. Bear Worcester to the death, and
Vernon too:
Other offenders we will pause upon.-
[Exeunt Wor. and Vernon, guarded.
How goes the field?
P. Hen. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when
he saw
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him,
The noble Percy slain, and all his men
Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest;
And falling from a hill, he was so bruis'd,
That the pursuers took him. At my tent
The Douglas is; and I beseech your grace,
I may dispose of him.
K. Hen.
With all my heart.
P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you
This honourable bounty shall belong:
Go to the Douglas, and deliver him
Up to his pleasure, ransomless, and free:
His valour, shown upon our crests to-day,
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds,
Even in the bosom of our adversaries.
Lan. I thank your grace for this high courtesy,
Which I shall give away immediately.
K. Hen. Then this remains,-that we divide
our power.-
Art thou alive or is it phantasy
That plays upon our eyesight? I pr'ythee, speak, You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
We will not trust our eyes, without our ears:-Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest
Thou art not what thou seem'st.
Fal No, that's certain; I am not a double To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, man: but if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Who, as we hear, are busily in arms: Jack. There is Percy: [throwing the body down] Myself, and you, son Harry,-will towards if your father will do me any honour, so; if not, Wales, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. P. Hen. Why, Percy I killed myself, and saw thee dead.
Fal. Didst thou ?-Lord, lord, how this world is given to lying!-I grant you, I was down,
To fight with Glendower, and the earl of March.
Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway,
Meeting the check of such another day:
And since this business so fair is done,
Let us not leave till all our own be won.
Warkworth. Before Northumberland's Castle.
Enter Rumour, painted full of Tongues.
Rum. Open your ears; For which of you will
stop
The vent of hearing, when loud Rumour speaks?
I, from the orient to the drooping west,
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold
The acts commenced on this ball of earth:
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride;
The which in every language I pronounce,
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
I speak of peace, while covert enmity,
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world:
And who but Rumour, who but only I,
Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence;
Whilst the big ear, swol'n with some other grief,
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,
And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures;
And of so easy and so plain a stop,
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it. But what need I thus
My well known body to anatomize
Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,
And not a man of them brings other news
Than they have learn'd of me; from Rumour's
tongues
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than
true wrongs.
[Exit.
SCENE I. The same.
The Porter before the Gate.
Enter Lord Bardolph.
Bard. Who keeps the gate here, ho 7-Where
is the earl ?
Port. What shall I say you are?
Bard.
Tell thou the earl,
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
Port. His lordship is walk'd forth into the
orchard;
Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,
And he himself will answer.
Enter Northumberland.
Bard.
Here comes the earl.
North. What news, Lord Bardolph 7 every
minute now
Among my household? Why is Rumour here ? Should be the father of some stratagem;
I run before King Harry's victory;
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury,
The times are wild; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his And bears down all before him.
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion
Even with the rebels' blood. But what mean I
To speak so true at first? my office is
To noise abroad,-that Harry Monmouth fell
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword;
And that the king before the Douglas' rage
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death.
This have I rumour'd through the peasant towns
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone
Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,
|