Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

K. Henry. How now, my lord of Wor'fter ? 'tis not well,
That you and I fhould meet upon fuch terms.
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our Truft,
And made us doff our eafie robes of peace,
To trufh our old limbs in ungentle fteel:
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What fay 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 proteft,

I have not fought the day of this dislike.

K. Henry. You have not fought it, Sir? how comes it then?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. (11)

(11) Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, amd be found it.

P Henry.

Prince. Peace, Chevet, peace. ] This I take to be an arbitrary Refinement of Mr. Pope's: nor can I eafily agree, that Chevet is Shakspeare's Word here. Why fhould Prince Henry call Falstaff Bolfter, for interpofing in the Difcourfe betwixt the King and Worcefter? With Submiffion, he does not take him up here for his unreasonable size, but for his ill-tim'd unfeafonable Chattering. I therefore have preferr'd the Reading of the old Books. A Chewet, or Chuet, is a noify chattering Bird, a Pie. This carries a proper Reproach to Falstaff for his medling and impertinent Jeft. And befides, if the Poet had intended that the Prince should fleer at Falstaff, on account of his Corpulency, I doubt not, but he would have call'd him Bolfter in plain English, and not have wrapp'd up the Abufe in the French Word Chevet. In another Paffage of this Play, the Prince honestly calls him Quilt; As to Prince Henry, his

Stock

P. Henry. Peace, Chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your Majefty, to turn your looks
Of favour from my felf, and all our House ;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,

We were the first and dearest of your friends:
ftaff of office I did break

For you, my
In Richard's time, and pofted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kifs your
hand;
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing fo ftrong and fortunate, as I:

It was my felf, my brother, and his fon,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dard
The dangers of the time. You fwore to us,
(And you did fwear that Oath at Doncafter,)
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 fware our aid: but in fhort space
It rain'd down fortune fhow'ring on your head,
And fuch a flood of greatnefs fell on you,
What with our help, what with the abfent King,
What with the Injuries of a wanton time,
The feeming fuff'rances that you had borne,
And the contrarious winds that held the King
So long in the unlucky Irish wars,

That all in England did repute him dead :
And from this fwarm of fair advantages
You took occafion to be quickly woo'd,
To gripe the general Sway into your hand;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncafter;
And being fed by us, you us'd us fo,
As that ungentle gull, the Cuckow's bird,
Ufeth the Sparrow; did opprefs our neft,
Grew by our feeding to fo great a bulk,
That ev'n our love durft not come near your fight

Stock in this Language was fo fmall, that when he comes to be King, he hammers out one fmall Sentence of it to Princess Catharine, and tells her, It is as eafy for him to conquer the Kingdom as to speak so much more French.

For

For fear of fwallowing; but with nimble wing
We were inforc'd for safety's fake to fly
Out of your fight, and raise this prefent head:
Whereby we ftand oppofed by fuch means
As you your felf have forg'd against your self,
By unkind ufage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth,

Sworn to us in your younger enterprize.

K. Henry. These things, indeed, you have articulated, Proclaim'd at market-croffes, read in churches,

To face the garment of Rebellion

With fome fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle Changelings and poor Difcontents;
Which gape, and rub the elbow at the news
Of hurly-burly innovation.

And never yet did Infurrection want
Such water-colours, to impaint his caufe:
Nor moody beggars, ftarving for a time
Of pell-mell havock and confufion.

P. Henry. In both our armies there is many a foul
Shall pay full dearly for this bold encounter,
If once they join in tryal. Tell your nephew,
The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: By my hopes,
(This prefent enterprize fet 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,
Το grace this latter age with noble deed.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to Chivalry,
And fo, I hear; he doth account me too.
Yet this before my father's Majefty,
I am content that he fhall take the odds
Of his great Name and Eftimation;
And will, to fave the blood on either fide,

Try fortune with him, in a fingle fight.

K. Henry. And, Prince of Wales, fo dare we venture

thee,

Albeit, Confiderations infinite

Do

Do make against it: No, good Wor'fter, no,
We love our People well; even those we love,
That are misled upon your Coufin'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 Coufin, and return 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.

[Exit Worcester, with Vernon. P. Henry. It will not be accepted, on my life. The Douglas and the Hotspur both together

Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Henry. Hence, therefore, every Leader to his Charge. For on their anfwer we will fet on them:

And God befriend us, as our caufe is just!

Manent Prince Henry and Falstaff.

[Exeunt.

Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battel, and beftride me, fo; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Henry. Nothing but a Coloffus can do thee that friendship: Say thy prayers, and farewel.

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well.
P. Henry, Why, thou oweft heav'n a death.

Fal. 'Tis not due yet: I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be fo forward with him that calls not on me? well, 'tis no matter, honour pricks me on. But how if honour prick me off, when I come on? how then? can honour fet to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no: honour hath no fkill in furgery then? no. What is honour? a word. what is that word honour? Air; a trim Reckoning. who hath it? he that dy'd a Wednesday. doth he feel it? no. doth he hear it? no is it infenfible then? yea, to the dead. but will it not live with the living? no. why? Detraction will not fuffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it; honour is a meer fcutcheon, and fo ends my catechism.

VOL. IV.

H

(Exit. SCENE

SCENE changes to Percy's Camp.

Wor.

· Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

O,

No, my nephew muft not know, Sir Richard
The liberal kind offer of the King.

Ver. 'Twere best, he did.

Wor. Then we are all undone.

It is not poffible, it cannot be,

The King fhou'd keep his word in loving us ;
He will fufpect us ftill, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults:

Sufpicion, all our lives, fhall be ftuck full of eyes;
For treafon is but trufted like a Fox,

Who ne'er so tame, fo cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or fad, or merrily,
Interpretation will mifquote our looks;
And we fhall feed like Oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd, ftill the nearer death.
My nephew's trefpafs may be well forgot,
It hath th' excufe of youth and heat of blood;
And an adopted name of privilege,

A hair-brain'd Hot-fpur, 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 fpring of all, fhall pay for all.
Therefore, good coufin, let not Harry know,
In any cafe the offer of the King.

Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll fay, 'tis fo.
Here comes your cousin.

་

Enter Hot-fpur and Dowglas.

Hot. My uncle is return'd:

Deliver up my lord of Westmorland.
Uncle, what news?

Wor. The King will bid you battle presently.
Dow. Defie him by the lord of Westmorland.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you then and tell him so.

Dowg.