The Plays of Shakespeare

Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning, Percy stands on high,
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, POINS, and BARDOolph.

Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast; come.

O! I could wish this tavern were my drum.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS.
Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth,
In this fine age were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By God, I cannot flatter: I defy

The tongues of soothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love hath no man than yourself.
Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour:
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.

Enter a Messenger, with Letters. What letters hast thou there ?-I can but thank you. Mess. These letters come from your father. Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself? Mess. He cannot come, my lord: he's grievous sick. Hot. 'Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along?

Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by sickness had been visited:

His health was never better worth than now.
Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect
The very life-blood of our enterprize :
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.
He writes me here,-that inward sickness-
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov'd, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,
That with our small conjunction we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us;
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,
Because the king is certainly possess'd
Of all our purposes. What say you to it?

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.
Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:-
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it.-Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main

On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good; for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope,
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Doug.
'Faith, and so we should,
Where now remains a sweet reversion :
We now may boldly spend upon the hope
Of what is to come in:

A comfort of retirement lives in this.
Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the devil and mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.

[Exit.

Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here.
The quality and hair of our attempt
Brooks no division: it will be thought

By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence.
And think, how such an apprehension
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause:
For, well you know, we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement,
And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us.
This absence of your father's draws a curtain,
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.

Hot.
You strain too far.
I, rather, of his absence make this use:-
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprize,
Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we, without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom, with his help,
We should o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.—
Yet all goes well; yet all our joints are whole.
Doug. As heart can think: there is not such a word
Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear.

Enter Sir RICHARD VERNON.

Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. Ver. Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince John. Hot. No harm: what more?

Ver.

And farther, I have learn'd, The king himself in person is set forth, Or hitherwards intendeth speedily, With strong and mighty preparation. Hot. He shall be welcome too. The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales, And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside, And bid it pass?

Where is his son,

Ver.
All furnish'd, all in arms,
All plum'd like estridges, that wing the wind,
Bated, like eagles having lately bath'd;
Glittering in golden coats, like images;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer;
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I saw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaulted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,

And witch the world with noble horsemanship.

Hot. No more, no more: worse than the sun in March, This praise doth nourish agues. Let them come;

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,
He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the king's whole battle reach unto?
Ver. To thirty thousand.

Hot.
Forty let it be :
My father and Glendower being both away,
The powers of us may serve so great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily:
Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.

Doug. Talk not of dying: I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-A public Road, near Coventry.
Enter FALSTAFF and BARDOLPH.

Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry: fill me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march through; we'll to Sutton-Colfield to-night.

Bard. Will you give me money, captain?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Fal. An if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain: farewell.

[Exit. Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the king's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I pressed me none but good householders, yeomen's sons: inquired me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the bans; such a commodity of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil as a drum; such as fear the report of a caliver, worse than a struck fowl, or a hurt wild-duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins' heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his sores; and such as, indeed, were never soldiers, but discarded unjust serving men, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world, and a long peace; ten times more dishonourable ragged than an old pieced ancient: and such have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals, lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets, and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I'll not march through Coventry with them, that's flat:-nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for, indeed, I had the most of them out of prison. There's but a shirt |

and a half in all my company: and the half shirt is two napkins, tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at St. Albans, or the red nosed inn-keeper of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge. Enter Prince HENRY and WESTMORELAND.

P. Hen. How now, blown Jack! how now, quilt! Fal. What, Hal! how now, mad wag! what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire ?-My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy: I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there and you too; but my powers are there already. The king, I can tell you, looks for us all: we must away all night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me: I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack; whose fellows are these that come after?

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Hen. I did never see such pitiful rascals.

Fal. Tut, tut! good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder; they'll fill a pit, as well as better: tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly.

Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that: and for their bareness, I am sure, they never learned that of me.

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn; unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, make haste: Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the king encamped?

West. He is, sir John: I fear we shall stay too long.
Fal. Well,

To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning of a feast,
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, DOUGLAS, and VERNON.
Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor.

It may not be.
Doug. You give him, then, advantage.
Ver.

Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you so? looks he not for supply?
Ver. So do we.

Hot.
His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd: stir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.
Doug.

You do not counsel well.
You speak it out of fear, and a cold heart.
Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life,
And I dare well maintain it with my life,
If well-respected honour bid me on,
I hold as little counsel with weak fear,
As you, my lord, or any Scot that lives:
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle,
Which of us fears.
Doug.
Ver.

Yea, or to-night.

Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver.

Content.

Come, come, it may not be.

I wonder much,
Being men of such great leading as you are,
That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition: certain horse
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up:
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;

And now their pride and mettle is asleep,
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,
That not a horse is half the half himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy,
In general, journey-bated, and brought low;
The better part of ours are full of rest.

Wor. The number of the king exceedeth ours:
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

[The Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter Sir WALTER BLUNT. Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the king, If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.

Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; and would to God You were of our determination!

Some of us love you well; and even those some
Envy your great deservings, and good name,
Because you are not of our quality,

But stand against us like an enemy.

Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so,

So long as out of limit and true rule,
You stand against anointed majesty.

But, to my charge.-The king hath sent to know
The nature of your griefs; and whereupon
You conjure from the breast of civil peace
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty? If that the king

Have any way your good deserts forgot,
Which he confesseth to be manifold,

He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed,
You shall have your desires with interest,

And pardon absolute for yourself, and these,
Herein misled by your suggestion.

Hot.

Then, to the point.

In short time after he depos'd the king;
Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life;
And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state;
To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March
(Who is, if every owner were well plac'd,
Indeed his king) to be engag'd in Wales,
There without ransom to lie forfeited;
Disgrac'd me in my happy victories;
Sought to entrap me by intelligence;
Rated my uncle from the council-board;
In rage dismiss'd my father from the court;
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,
And, in conclusion, drove us to seek out
This head of safety; and, withal, to pry
Into his title, the which we find
Too indirect for long-continuance.

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king?
Hot. Not so, sir Walter: we'll withdraw awhile.
Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
Bring him our purposes; and so farewell.

Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and love. Hot. And, may be, so we shall.

Blunt.

SCENE IV.-York.

'Pray God you do! [Exeunt.

A Room in the Archbishop's House.

Enter the Archbishop of YORK, and Sir MICHAEL.

Arch. Hie, good sir Michael; bear this sealed brief, With winged haste to the lord marshal :

Hot. The king is kind; and, well we know, the king This to my cousin Scroop; and all the rest

Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.

My father, with my uncle, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears;
And when he was not six-and-twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,
My father gave him welcome to the shore:
And, when he heard him swear, and vow to God,
He came but to be duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery, and beg his peace,
With tears of innocency, and terms of zeal,
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs, as pages follow'd him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He presently, as greatness knows itself,
Steps me a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth;
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep
Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for:
Proceeded farther; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites, that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.

Blunt, Tut! I came not to hear this.

To whom they are directed. If you knew
How much they do import, you would make haste.
Sir M. My good lord,

I guess their tenour.

Arch.
Like enough, you do.
To-morrow, good sir Michael, is a day,
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly given to understand,

The king, with mighty and quick-raised power,
Meets with lord Harry: and, I fear, sir Michael,
What with the sickness of Northumberland,
Whose power was in the first proportion,

And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
Who with them was a rated sinew too,
And comes not in, o'er-rul'd by prophecies,

I fear, the power of Percy is too weak

To wage an instant trial with the king.

Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not fear; There is Douglas, and lord Mortimer.

Arch. No, Mortimer is not there.

Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry

Percy,

And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head

Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

Arch. And so there is; but yet the king hath drawn The special head of all the land together: The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster, The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt, And many more corrivals, and dear men Of estimation and command in arms.

Sir M. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well oppos'd. Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to fear; And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael, speed; For, if lord Percy thrive not, ere the king Dismiss his power he means to visit us, For he hath heard of our confederacy,

And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him:
Therefore, make haste. I must go write again

To other friends; and so farewell, sir Michael.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-The King's Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN of Lancaster, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and Sir JOHN FAL

STAFF.

K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yond' busky hill: the day looks pale
At his distemperature.

P. Hen.

The southern wind

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes;
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
Foretels a tempest, and a blustering day.

K. Hen. Then, with the losers let it sympathise,
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.-

[Trumpet sounds.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my lord of Worcester! 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our trust,
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel :
This is not well, my lord; this is not well.
What say you to it? 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 protest,
I have not sought the day of this dislike.

And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster,
And, being fed by us, you us'd us so
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow, did oppress our nest,
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,
That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head :
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself,
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to us in your younger enterprize.

K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulate,
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches,
To face the garment of rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation :

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pellmell havoc and confusion.

P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,

If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy by my hopes,
This present enterprize set off his head,

K. Hen. You have not sought it! say, how comes it I do not think, a braver gentleman,
then?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace!

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn your looks
Of favour, from myself, and all our house;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
For you my staff of office did I break

In Richard's time; and posted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account,
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state,
Nor claim no farther than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
To this we swore our aid; but, in short space,
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head,
And such a flood of greatness fell on you,
What with our help, what with the absent king,
What with the injuries of a wanton time,
The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious winds that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,
That all in England did repute him dead:

More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry,
And so, I hear, he doth account me too;
Yet this before my father's majesty :
I am content, that he shall take the odds

Of his great name and estimation,

And will, to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture
thee.

Albeit considerations infinite

Do make against it.-No, good Worcester, no,
We love our people well; even those we love,
That are misled upon your cousin'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 cousin, and bring 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.

[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON. P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on my life.

The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Hen. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge,
For, on their answer, will we set on them;
And God befriend us as our case is just!

[Exeunt KING, BLUNT, and Prince JOHN. Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Hen. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.

By now forswearing that he is forsworn :
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us.
Re-enter DOUGLAS.

Doug. Arm, gentlemen! to arms! for I have thrown
A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,
And Westmoreland, that was engag'd, did hear it,
Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on.
Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the
king,

And, nephew, challenged you to single fight.

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. Hot. O! would the quarrel lay upon our heads; Fal. 'Tis not due yet: I would be loath to pay him And that no man might draw short breath to-day, before his day. What need I be so forward with him But I, and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt ? pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off Ver. No, by my soul: I never in my life when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief Unless a brother should a brother dare of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery, To gentle exercise and proof of arms. then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in He gave you all the duties of a man, that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue, trim reckoning!-Who hath it? He that died o' Wed-Spoke your deservings like a chronicle, nesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Making you ever better than his praise, Is it insensible, then? Yea, to the dead. But will it By still dispraising praise, valued with you; not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction And, which became him like a prince indeed, will not suffer it :-therefore, I'll none of it: honour is He made a blushing cital of himself; a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism. And chid his truant youth with such a grace, As if he master'd then a double spirit, Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. There did he pause: but let me tell the world,

SCENE II.-The Rebel Camp.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

| [Exit.

Wor. O, no! my nephew must not know, sir Richard, If he outlive the envy of this day, The liberal kind offer of the king.

Ver. 'Twere best, he did.
Wor.

Then are we all undone.
It is not possible, it cannot be,
The king should keep his word in loving us;
He will suspect us still, and find a time
To punish this offence in other faults:

Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;
For treason is but trusted like the fox,

Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or sad or merrily,
Interpretation will misquote our looks;
And we shall feed like oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd, still the nearer death.
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot,

It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood;
And an adopted name of privilege,

A hare-brain'd Hotspur, 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 spring of all, shall pay for all.
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know
In any case the offer of the king.

Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so.
Here comes your cousin.

Enter HOTSPUR and DOUGLAS; Officers and Soldiers,

behind.

Hot. My uncle is return'd:-Deliver up
My lord of Westmoreland.-Uncle, what news?
Wor. The king will bid you battle presently.
Doug. Defy him by the lord of Westmoreland.
Hot. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so.
Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. [Exit.
Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king.
Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid !
Wor. I told him gently of our grievances,
Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus;

England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.
Hot. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured
Upon his follies: never did I hear
Of any prince so wild o' liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm,
That he shall shrink under my courtesy.-
Arm, arm, with speed! And, fellows, soldiers,
friends,

Better consider what you have to do,
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,
Can lift your blood up with persuasion.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you.
Hot. I cannot read them now.-

O gentlemen! the time of life is short;
To spend that shortness basely, were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,

Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
An if we live, we live to tread on kings;
If die, brave death, when princes die with us.
Now, for our consciences, the arms are fair,
When the intent of bearing them is just.
Enter another Messenger.

Mess. My lord, prepare; the king comes on

apace.

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my tale,
For I profess not talking. Only this-
Let each man do his best: and here draw I
A sword, whose temper I intend to stain
With the best blood that I can meet withal
In the adventure of this perilous day.
Now, Esperance !-Percy!-and set on!-
Sound all the lofty instruments of war,
And by that music let us all embrace;
'Fore heaven and earth, some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.

[The Trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt.

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The Plays of Shakespeare: The Text Regulated by the Old Copies, and by the ...