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Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.

But this our purpose now is twelvemonth old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go:
Then fore we meet not now. Then let me hear
Of
you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesteraight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales, laden with heavy news;
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered.

K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this
broil

Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord;

For more uneven, and unwelcome news,

Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he, that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend,

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Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,

And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Douglas is discomfited

On Holmedon's plains: of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake, the Earl of Fife, and eldest son

To beaten Douglas; and the Earls
Of Athol, Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?

A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?

West. It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st
me sin

In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so bless'd a son:
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow

Of my young Harry. Oh, that it could be prov'd,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes, our children, where they lay,
And call'd mine-Percy, his-Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts:-What think you,.

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Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he, in this adventure, hath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake, Earl of Fife.

West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worces-
ter,

Malevolent to you, in all aspects.

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, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;

[Rises.

For more is to be said, and to be done,

Than, out of anger, can be uttered.

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-[Excunt.

SCENE II.

An Apartment belonging to the PRINCE OF WALES.

Enter HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, and SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.

Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?

P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast for gotten to demand that truly, which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds; I see no reason, why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars, and not by Phoebus,--he, that wand'ring knight so fair. And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,as, Heaven save thy grace, majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,

P. Hen. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be-Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the

moon: And let men say, we be men of good government; being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress, the moon; under whose countenance we -steal.

P. Hen. Thou say'st well, and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing-lay by; and spent with crying-bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder; and, by and by, in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

Fal. By the lord, thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips, and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

P. Hen. Why, what a plague have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that, were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic, the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I O rare! By the lord, I'll be a brave judge!

P. Hen. Thou judgest false, already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort, it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits; whereof, the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.

P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute.

Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor Ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,-sweet young prince, But, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to Heaven thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought: An old lord of the council rated me the other day, in the street, about you, sir, but I marked him not and yet he talked very wisely, but I regard. ed him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the

street too.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration; and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-Heaven forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the lord, an I do not, I am a villain ! I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

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