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To bloody battles, and to bruifing arms.
What never dying honour hath he got
Against renowned Dowglas, whofe high deeds,
Whofe hot incurfions, and great name in arms,
Holds from all foldiers chief majority,
And military Title capital,

Through all the Kingdoms that acknowledge Chrift.
Thrice hath this Hot-fpur, Mars in swathing-cloaths,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises,

Discomfited great Dowglas, ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and fafety of our Throne.
And what fay you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
Th' Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas,and Mortimer,
Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell this news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my near'st and deareft enemy?
Thou that art like enough, through vaffal fear,
Base inclination, and the start of spleen,
To fight against me under Percy's pay;
To dog his heels, and curtfie at his frowns,
To fhow how much thou art degenerate.

P. Henry. Do not think fo, you shall not find it fo:
And heav'n forgive them, that fo much have fway'd
Your Majefty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head.
And in the clofing of fome glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your fon.
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
✦ And ftain my favour in a bloody mask,
Which, wafh'd away, fhall fcowre my fhame with it.
And that shall be the day, when e'er it lights,

4 And ftain my favours in a bloody mask,] We should read favour, i. e. countenance.

That

That this fame child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hot-fpur, this all-praised Knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet.
For every honour fitting on his helm,

'Would they were multitudes, and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I fhall make this northern Youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
T'engrofs up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to fo ftrict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the flightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reck'ning from his heart.
This in the name of heav'n I promise here:
The which, if I perform, and do furvive,
I do befeech your Majefty, may falve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperature.
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds;
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.

K. Henry. A hundred thousand Rebels die in this! Thou shalt have Charge, and fovereign Truft herein. Enter Blunt.

How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.
Blunt. So is the business that I come to speak of.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word,
That Dowglas and the English rebels met
Th' eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:
A mighty and a fearful head they are,
If promifes be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a State.

K. Henry, The Earl of Westmorland fet forth to day,
With him my fon, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old.

On Wednesday next, Harry, thou fhalt fet forward:

On Thursday, we our felves will march: our meeting Is at Bridgnorth; and, Harry, you shall march Through Glo'stershire: by which fome twelve days

hence

Our general forces at Bridgnorth fhall meet.

Our hands are full of business: let's away,
Advantage feeds them fat, while we delay. [Exeunt.

SCENE. V.

Changes to the Boar's-head Tavern in East-cheap. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.

Fal.

Ardolph, am not I fall'n away vilely, fince this laft action? Do I not bate? do I not dwindle? why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady's loose gown: I am wither'd, like an old apple John. Well, I'll repent, and that fuddenly, while I am in fome liking: I fhall be out of heart shortly, and then I fhall have no ftrength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the infide of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, a brewer's horfe; the infide of a church! company, villainous company hath been the fpoil of me.

Bard. Sir John, you are fo fretful, you cannot live long.

Fal. Why, there is it; come, fing me a bawdy fong, to make me merry: I was as virtuously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtuous enough; fwore little; diced not above seven times a week; went to a bawdyhouse not above once in a quarter of an hour; paid mony, that I borrow'd, three or four times; liv'd well, and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass.

Bard. Why, you are fo fat, Sir John, that you muft needs be out of all compafs, out of all reasonable compafs, Sir John.

Fal.

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life. Thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the nose of thee; thou art the knight of the burning lamp.

Bard. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. Fal. No, I'll be fworn; I make as good ufe of it, as many a man doth of a death's head, or a memento mori. I never fee thy face, but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that liv'd in purple; for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would fwear by thy face; my oath fhould be, by this fire; but thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the fon of utter darkness. When thou rann'st up Gadsbill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think, thou had'st been an ignis fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no purchase in mony. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlafting bonfire-light; thou haft faved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern; but the fack, that thou haft drunk me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have maintain'd that Salamander of yours with fire, any time this two and thirty years, heav'n reward me for it!

Bard. 'Sblood, I would, my face were in your belly. Fal. God-a-mercy! fo fhould I be fure to be heartburn'd.

Enter Hoftefs.

How now, dame Partlet the hen, have you enquir'd yet who pick'd my pocket?

Hoft. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John? do you think, I keep thieves in my houfe? I have fearch'd, I have enquir'd, fo has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, fervant by fervant: the tithe of a hair was never loft in my house before,

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Fal. Ye lie, hoftefs; Bardolph was fhav'd, and loft many a hair; and I'll be fworn, my pocket was pick'd; go to, you are a woman, go.

Hoft. Who I? I defie thee; I was never call'd fo in mine own houfe before.

Fal. Go to, I know you well enough.

Hoft. No, Sir John: you do not know me, Sir John; I know you, Sir John; you owe me mony, Sir John, and now you pick a quarrel to beguile me of it. bought you a dozen of fhirts to your back.

I

Fal. Dowlas, filthy dowlas: I have given them away to bakers' wives, and they have made boulters of them.

Hoft. Now as I am a true woman, Holland of eight fhillings an ell: you owe mony here befides, Sir John, for your diet, and by-drinkings, and mony lent you, four and twenty pounds.

Fal. He had his part of it, let him pay.

Hoft. He? alas! he is poor, he hath nothing.

Fal. How! poor? look upon his face: what call you rich? let him coin his nofe, let him coin his cheeks: I'll not pay a denier. What, will you make a yonker of me? fhall I not take mine eafe in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket pick'd? I have loft a feal-ring of my grand-father's, worth forty mark.

Hoft. O Jefu! I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that the ring was copper.

Fal. How? the Prince is a Jack, a fneak-up; and if he were here, I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would fay fo.

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Enter Prince Henry marching, and Peto playing on bis Truncheon like a Fife: Falstaff meets them.

Fal. How now, lad? is the wind in that door? muft we all march?

Bard.

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