Fal. I would it had beene of horfe. Where fhall I finde one that can steale wel? O, for a fine theefe of the age of xxii. or ther about; I am hainoufly vnprouided. Well, God be thanked for thefe rebels, they offend none but the vertuous; I laud them, I praise them.

Prince. Bardoll.

Bar. My lord.

Prin. Go beare this letter to lord Iohn of Lancafter. To my brother John: this to my lord of Westmerland, Go, Peto, to horfe for thou and I

Haue thirty miles yet to ride ere dinner time:

Jacke meete me to morrow in the temple hall,

At two a clocke in the afternoone,

There fhalt thou know thy charge, and there receiue,

Money and order for their furniture.

The land is burning, Percy ftands on high,

And eyther they or we must lower lie.

Fal. Rare words! braue world. Hoftes, my breakefaft

come

Oh, I could wish this tauerne were my drum.

Enter Hotfpur, Worcester and Dowglas.

Hot. Well faid, my noble Scot, if speaking truth
In this fine age were not though † flattery,
Such attribution fhould the Dowglas haue,
As not a fouldier of this feafons ftampe,
Should go fo generall currant through the world:
By God I cannot flatter, I defie

The tongues of foothers, but a brauer place
In my harts loue hath no man then your felfe.
Nay, take me to my word, approue me lord.

Exeunt.

Dow. Thou art the king of honour,
No man fo potent breathes vpon the ground,
But I will beard him.

Enter one with letters.

Hot. Do fo, and t'is well: what letters haft thou there? I can but thanke you.

Mell. These letters come from your father.

Hot. Letters from him? why comes he not himselfe?
Meff. He cannot come, my lord, he is grieuous fick.
Hot. Zounds, how haz he the leifure to be ficke
In fuch a iuftling time? who leades his power?
Vnder whose gouernment come they along?

Me. His litters beares his mind, not I his mind.
Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his bed?
Meff. He did, my lord, foure dayes ere I fet forth.
And at the time of my departure thence,

He was much feard by his phifitions.

Wor. I would the ftate of time had firft bin whole,

Ere he by fickneffe had bin vifited:

His health was neuer better worth then now.

Hot. Sicke now, droope now, this ficknes doth infect

The very life-bloud of our enterprife,

Tis catching hither, euen to our campe:

He writes me here, that inward fickneffe,

And that his friends by deputation

Could not fo foone be drawne, nor did he thinke it meete,

To lay fo dangerous and deare a trust

Or any foule remou'd, but on his owne,
Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,

That with our fmall coniunction, we should on,

To fee how fortune is difpos'd to v3:

For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the king is certainely poffeft

Of all our purposes: what fay you to it?

Wor. Your fathers ficknesse is a maime to vs.

Hot. A perilous gafh, a very limme lopt off,
And yet, in faith, it is not his present want
Seemes more then we shall find it were it good,
To fet the exact wealth of all our states,
All at one caft? to fet fo rich a maine,
On the nice hazzard of one doubtfull houre,"
It were not good, for therein fhould we read
The very bottome and the foule of hope,
The very lift, the very vtmoft bound

Of all our fortunes.

Dowg. Fayth, and fo we should,

Where now remaines a fweet reuerfion.

We may boldly spend vpon the hope of what t'is to come in A comfort of retirement liues in this.

Hot. A randeuous, a home to fly vnto,

If that the diuell and mifchance looke big

Vpon the maydenhead of our affaires.

Wor. But yet I would your father had been heere;

The qualitie and heire* of our attempt
Brookes no deuifion, it will be thought
By fome, that know not why he is away,
That wifedome, loyalty, and meere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earle from hence.
And thinke, how fuch an apprehenfion
May turne the tide of fearefull faction,
And breed a kind of question in our caufe:
For, well you know, we of the offring fide,
Must keepe aloofe from ftrict arbitrement,

And stop all fight-holes, euery loope, from whence

*bairt.

The

The eye of reafon may prie in vpon vs :
This abfence of your father draws a curtaine,
That fhewes the ignorant, a kind of feare
Before not dreamt of.

Hot. You ftraine too farre.

I rather of his abfence make this vfe,

It lendes a luftre and more great opinion,

*

A larger dare to your great enterprize,

Then if the earle were heere: for men must thinke,

If we without his helpe, can make a head

To push against the kingdome, with his helpe,
We fhall, or turne it topfie turuy downe :

Yet all goes well, yet all our ioynts are whole.

Dowg. As heart can thinke, there is not fuch a word. Spoke of in Scotland, at this deame of feare.

Enter fir Rih. Vernon.

Hot. My coofen Vernon, welcome by my foule.
Ver. Pray God my newes be worth a welcome, lord.
The earle of Weftmerland, feauen thousand strong,

Is marching hitherwards, with prince Iohn.

Hot. No harme, what more?

Ver. And further, I haue learnd,

The king himfelfe in perfon hath fet foorth,

Or hitherwards intended speedily,

With strong and mightie preparation.

Hot. He fhall be welcome too; where is his fonne,

The nimble-footed mad cap, prince of Wales,

And his cumrades, that daft the world afide,

And bid it paffe?

Ver. All furnisht? all in armes ?

All plumde † like eftriges, that with the winde

Bayted like eagles, hauing lately bath'd,
Glittering in golden coates like images,

As full of fpirit as the month of May,
And gorgious as the funne at midfommer;
Wanton as youthfull goates, wilde as young buls:
I faw young Harry with his beuer on,
His cushes on his thighes, gallantly armde,
Rife from the ground like feathered Mercury,
And vaulted with fuch eafe into his feate,

As if an angell dropt downe from the cloudes,

To turne and winde a fiery Pegasus,

And witch the world with noble horfe-manfhip.

Hot. No more, no more; worfe then the funne in March.

This prayfe doth nourish agues; let them come,

They come like facrifices in their trim,

And to the fire-eyde mayde of fmokie warre,
All hot and bleeding, will we offer them:
The mayled Mars fhall on his altar fit
Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire
To heare this rich reprizall is fo nigh:

And yet not ours. Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to beare me like a thunder-bolt,

Against the bosome of the prince of Wales,

Harry to Harry, fhall not horfe to horfe

Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a coarse:
Oh, that Glendower were come.

Ver. There is more newes,

I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,

He can draw his power this fourteene dayes.

Dowg. Thats the worft tydinges, that I heare of yet ‡.
Wor. I by my fayth, that beares a frofty found.

Hot. What may the kinges whole battell reach vnto ?
Ver. To thirtie thousand.

*bot. teannet.

ira

Hot.