Fal. Didst thou? - - Lord, lord, how this world is given to lying! - I grant you I was down and out of breath, and so was he; but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so, if 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, 'zounds! I would make him eat a piece of my sword.

P. John. This is the strangest tale that e'er I heard.
P. Hen. This is the strangest fellow, brother John.

Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back:

For my part, if a lie may do thee grace,

[A Retreat is sounded.

I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours.
Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field,

To see what friends are living, who are dead.

[Exeunt Prince Henry and Prince Jonn. 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.

The Trumpets sound. Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN, WESTMORELAND, and Others, with Worcester, and VERNON, prisoners.

К. 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.

86

FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV.

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.

How goes the field?

[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON, guarded.

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.

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.

P. John. I thank your grace for this high courtesy, Which I shall give away immediately.

К. Неп. Then this remains, - that we divide our power. -
You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland,
Towards York shall bend you, with your dearest speed,
To meet Northumberland, and the prelate Scroop,
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms :

Myself, and you, son Harry, will towards Wales,
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.

[Exeunt.

Lords, and Attendants; Officers, Soldiers, Messenger, Drawers,

Beadles, Grooms, &c.

SCENE, England.

INDUCTION.

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 year, swoln 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
Among my household? Why is Rumour here?
I run before king Harry's victory;

Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury
Hath beaten down young Hotspur, and his troops,
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,
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.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Same.

The Porter before the Gate; Enter Lord BARDOLPH. Bard. Who keeps the gate here? ho! - 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.

Bard.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Here comes the earl.

North. What news, lord Bardolph? every minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem.

The times are wild: contention, like a horse

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,

And bears down all before him.

Bard.

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

Noble earl,

North. Good, an God will!
Bard.

As good as heart can wish.

And in the fortune of my lord your son,

The king is almost wounded to the death,

Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts