Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news And never yet did insurrection want, 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, And so, I hear, he doth account me too : And will, to save the blood on either side, K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we ven- Albeit, considerations infinite Do make against it :-No, good Worcester, no, [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: [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Prince John. Ful. 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. Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Hen. Why, thou owest God a death. [Exit. Fal. 'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before his day. What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour bath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning !-Who hath it? He that died o'Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it:-therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere scutcheon*, and so ends my catechism. * Painted heraldry in funerals. [Exit. SCENE II. The rebel camp. Enter Worcester and Vernon. Wor. O, no, my nepliew must not know, sir Richard, The liberal kind offer of the king. Ver. 'Twere best he did, Then are we all undone. It is not possible, it cannot be, The king should keep his word in loving us; A hare-brain'd Hotspur, govern'd by a spleen: And on his father's;-we did train him on; Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say, 'tis so. N2 Enter Hotspur and Douglas; and 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,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 bear it ; Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth before the king, And, nephew, challeng'd you to single fight. Hot. O, 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads; And that no man might draw short breath to-day, But I, and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, How show'd his tasking? seem'd it in contempt? Ver. No, by my soul; I never in my life Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms. He gave you all the duties of a man ; Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue; Spoke your deservings like a chronicle; Making you ever better than his praise, England did never owet so sweet a hope, Of any prince, so wild, at liberty :- Better consider what you have to do, Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. Still ending at the arrival of an hour. If die, brave death, when princes die with us! |