Malevolent to you in all aspects;

Which make 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; and so inform the lords;
But come yourself with speed, to us again;
For more 's to be said and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

[Exeunt.

-Another Room in the Palace.

Enter THE KING, HOTSPUR, and others.
Hot. 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 and trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bride-groom; 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,
* A small box for perfumes.

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 questioned 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 should not ;-for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting gentle-woman,
Of guns, and drums, and wounds (God save the
mark!),

And telling me the sovreign'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 destroyed
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.

† A parrot.

SCENE.-Warkworth. A Room in the Castle.

HOTSPUR enters to him his Wife.

Lady. O, my good lord, why are you thus alone?

Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks;
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing and curs'd melancholy?
In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry, Courage!-to the field! And thou hast talk'd
Of sallies and retires; of trenches, tents;
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets;
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;
Of prisoners' ransom, and of soldiers slain,
And all the currents* of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream:
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents
are these?

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.
Hot. What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet
gone?

* Occurrences.

Ser. He is, my lord, an hour ago. Hot. Hath Butler brought these horses from the sheriff?

Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not? Serv. It is, my lord.

Hot.

That roan shall be my throne. Well, I will back him straight: Esperance! — Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.

[Exit Servant. Lady. But hear you, my lord. Hot. What say'st thou, my lady? Lady. What is it carries you away? Hot. Why, my horse, my love, my horse. Lady. In sooth, I'll know your business, Harry, that I will. I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir About his title; and hath sent for you, To line his enterprise: But if you go

Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. Lady. Come, come, you paraquito, answer me Directly to this question that I shall ask. In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry, An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. Hot. Away,

Away, you trifler!-Love?—I love thee not. What say'st thou, Kate? what wouldst thou have

with me?

Lady. Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?
Well, do not, then; for, since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no.

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am a horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate,

I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout;
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise; but yet no further wise
Than Harry Percy's wife; constant you are,
But yet a woman; and for secrecy
No lady closer; for I well believe

Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know.. And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate! Lady. How! so far?

Hot. Not an inch farther. But hark you, Kate; Whither I go, thither shall you go too; To-day will I set forth, to-morrow, you.— Will this content you, Kate? Lady.

It must of force. [Exeunt.

SCENE.-Wales. Glendower's House.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORRTIMER, and GLENDOWER.

Glend. Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin
Hotspur;

For by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you,

His cheek looks pale, and, with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him; at my nativity,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets; and, at my birth,
The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward.

Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same season, if your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glend. I say, the earth did shake when I was born.

Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind, If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,

Glend.

And not in fear of your nativity.
Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again,-that at my birth
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary;
And all the courses of my life do show

I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is the living,-clipp'd in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Scotland,
Wales,-

Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
And hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man: But will they come, when you do call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach thee, cousin, to command the devil.

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,

By telling truth: Tell truth, and shame the devil. If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I have power to shame hm hence.

O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. Mort. Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.

Glen. The moon shines fair, you may away by night:

I'll haste the writer, and, withal,
Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.
Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my
father!

Hot. I cannot choose. I tell you what,-
He held me, last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names
That were his lackeys: I cried, hum,—and well,—
go to,

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house:-I had rather live
With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In a summer-house in Christendom.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame, And since your coming hither, have done enough To put him quite beside his patience.

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault, Though sometimes it shows greatness, courage,

blood,

I'll to dinner.

Mort. Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.

Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

* Lights set cross-ways and upon poles, used in processions.

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed! [Exeunt. SCENE.-London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter K. HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and Lords. K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I

I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me:
But thou doest, in thy passage of life,
Make me believe that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of Heaven,
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me, else
Could such inordinate and low desires,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:

I may, for some things true, wherein my youth
IIath faulty wander'd and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.

K. Hen. God pardon thee!—yet let me wonder,
Harry,

At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is supplied;
And art almost an alien to the hearts
Of all the court and princes of my blood:
The hope and expectation of thy time
Is ruin'd; and the soul of every man
Prophetically does forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men,
So stale and cheap to vulgar company,
Opinion, that did help me to the crown,
Had still kept loyal to possession;
And left me in reputeless banishment,
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood.
By being seldom seen, I could not stir
But, like a comet, I was wonder'd at:
That men would tell their children-This is he;
Others would say,-Where? which is Bolingbroke?
And then I stole all courtesy from Heaven,
And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts,
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus I did keep my person fresh and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,

Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters and rash bavin* wits,
Soon kindled and soon burn'd: carded his state,
Mingled his royalty with capering fools,
Had his great name profaned with their scorns:
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou:
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With the participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,

Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

* Bavin means brushwood.

For all the world,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then,
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession:
For, of no right, nor colour like to right,
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm:
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws;
And, being no more in debt to years than thou,
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on,
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms.
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathing clothes,
his infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomforted great Douglas; ta'en him,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him once,
To fill the mouth of deep defianne up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumber-
land,

The archbisop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,

Capitulate against us, and are up.

But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
Which art my nearest and dearest enemy?
Thou that art like enough-through vassal fear,
Base inclination and the start of spleen,-
To fight against me under Percy's pay,
To dog his heels, and curtsey at his frowns,
To show how much thou art degenerate.

P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find it

head

And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet
For every honour sitting on his helm,
'Would they were multitudes; and on my
My shame's redoubled! for the time will come
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf:
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which, if he be pleased, I shall perform.
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance;
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;*
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths,
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.+
† Part.

* Bonds.