At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,

Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, Stain'd with the variation of each soil

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; And he hath brought us smooth and welcome

news.

The earl of Douglas is discomfited:

Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
'On Holmedon's plains: of prisoners, Hotspur
took

Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly, which thou would'st truly know. What the devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffata; I see no reason why thou should'st be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, that wandering knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none),

P. Hen. What, none?

mak'st me sin

In envy, that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:

A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children, where they lay,
And call'd mine-Percy, his-Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts: what think
you, coz',

Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,

To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake, earl of Fife.

men of good government: being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we-steal.

P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearinglay by; and spent with crying bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder; and by-and-by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most

Malevolent to you in all aspécts;

Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this;

And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.

West. I will, my liege.

[exeunt.

SCENE II. THE SAME. IN THE PALACE..

Enter Henry Prince of Wales, and Falstaff Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part?

Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid

all there.

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir-apparent. But I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows stand

old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I? O rare! by the Lord, I'll be a brave ju 'ge.

P. Hen Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am us melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear. P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe.

P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest, -sweet young prince,-But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: an old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the street, and no man regards it.

Fal. O thou hast damnable "eration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morTow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me.

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: there are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it as secure as sleep: if you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns ; if you will not, tarry at home, and be hanged. Fal. Hear me, Yedward; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going. Poins. You will, chops?

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith.

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.

P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days I'll be a Fal. Why, that's well said. [mad-cap. P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

P. Hen. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.

Fal. Well, may'st thou have the spirit of persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believ'd, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap.

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, All-hallown summer! [erit Falstaff Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that

Enter Poins, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins! -Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain, that ever cried, Stand, to a true man.

P. Hen. Good-morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good-morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sackand-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good Friday last, for a cup of Madeira, and a cold capon's leg?

P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his

due.

and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already way-laid; yourself, and I, will not be there and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders. P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to inmask our noted outward garments.

P. Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard

for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees Teason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee: provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow uight in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. [exit Poins.

Poins. Farewell, my lord.

P. Hen. I know you all, and will awhile up

hold

The unyok'd humour of your idleness
Yet herein will I imitate the sun;
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for

come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promis'd,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that, which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redecming time, when men think least I will.

SCENE III. THE SAME. THE PALACE.

[erit.

Enter King Henry, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, and others.

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate,

Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me; for, accordingly,
You tread upon my patience but, be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young
down,

And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud.
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little
deserves

The scourge of greatness to be used on it;
And that same greatness too, which our own
hands

Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger

And disobedience in thine eye: O, sir. Your presence is too bold and peremptory,

Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied,
As is deliver'd to your majesty

Either envy, therefore, or misprision,
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners:
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon

He gave his nose, and took't away again ;———
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff :-and still he smil'd, and talk'd;
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them-untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms
He question'd me: among the rest demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief and my impatience,

Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or he should not ; for he made me

mad,

To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the
mark!)

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald disjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not his report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my

lord,

Whatever Harry Percy then had said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so be unsay it now.

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with proviso, and exception,—

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those, that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve ;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for a penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war:-to prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue for all those
wounds,

Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hand,
He did confound the best part of a hour,
In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
Three times they breath'd, and three times did

they drink,

Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare and rotten policy

Colour her workings with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly :
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.

North. Brother, the king hath made your ne phew mad. [to Worcester.

Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was

gone?

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; And when I urg'd the ransom once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale; And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not pro-
claim'd,

By Richard, that dead is, the next of blood?
North. He was: I heard the proclamation,
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition;

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and shortly, murdered.

Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's
wide mouth

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot. But, soft, I pray you: did king Richard Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer Heir to the crown?

North. He did; myself did hear it.

[then

belie him,

He never did encounter with Glendower;

I tell thee,

He durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art not asham'd? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you. My lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son:-
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

[ereunt King Henry, Blunt, and Train.
Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them:-I will after straight,
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my head.
North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and
pause awhile;
Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter Worcester. Hot. Speak of Mortimer! Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him: Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust, But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i'the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.

Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power,
Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf,—
As both of you, God pardon it! have done,
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent ?
No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again:
Revenge the jeering, and disdain'd contempt,
Of this proud king; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes to you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths
Therefore, I say,-

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more:
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous;
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
Hot. If he fall in, good night:-or sink or

swim:

Send danger from the east unto the west, So honour cross it from the north to south,

North. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.
Good cousin, give me audience for awhile.
Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Those same noble Scots,

That are your prisoners,

Hot. I'll keep them all;

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them:

No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:

I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away,

And lend no ear unto my purposes.-
Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:

North. Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient Art thou, to break into this woman's mood; Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own? Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,

Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

In Richard's time,-what do you call the place?— A plague upon't!-it is in Gloucestershire ;Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept; His uncle York ;-where I first bow'd my knee Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke, When you and he came back from Ravenspurg;North. At Berkley-castle.

This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look,-when his infant fortune came to age,
And,-gentle Harry Percy,-and, kind cousin,-
O, the devil take such cozeners!—God forgiva
me!-

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again;
We'll stay your leisure.

Hot. I have done, i'faith,

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Deliver them up without their ransome straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mear For powers in Scotland; which,-for divers reasons Which I shall send you written,-be assur'd, Will easily be granted.-You, my lord,

[to North. Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd, The archbishop.

Hot. Of York, is't not?

Wor. True; who bears hard

His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,

As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down;
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion, that shall bring it on.
Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st
[plot:-

lip.

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble And then the power of Scotland, and of York,— To join with Mortimer, ha?

Wor. And so they shall.

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, To save our heads by raising of a head: For, bear ourselves as even as we can, The king will always think him in our debt; And think we think ourselves unsatisfied Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already, how he doth begin, To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd ou him.

Wor. Cousin, farewell:-No further go in this, Than I by letters shall direct your course. When time is ripe (which will be suddenly,) I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer; Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once (As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold as much uncertainty.

North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu:-O, let the hours be short, Till fields, and blows, and groans, applaud our sport! [exeunt.

Enter a Carrier, with a lantern in his hand. 1 Car. Heigh ho! An't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd: Charles' wain is over the

new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. What, ostler!

Ost. [within.] Anon, anon.

1 Car. I pry'thee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle,