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 hath 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: Họnour is a mere scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.

SCENE II.

The Rebel Camp.

Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

[Exit.

Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know, sir Richard, 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 shall be all stuck full of eyes :a

p-- Honour is a mere scutcheon,] The reward of brave actions formerly was only some honourable bearing in the shields of arms bestowed upon deservers. But Falstaff having said that honour often came not till after death, he calls it very wittily a scutcheon, which is the painted heraldry borne in funeral processions; and by mere scutcheon is insinuated that whether alive or dead, honour was but a name.- -WARBURTON.

The old copies all read, " Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes." The corrections in the text were made by Pope and Farmer.

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,

Here comes your cousin.

'tis so.

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.
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.

[Exit.

Doug. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! for I have thrown

Deliver up

My lord of Westmoreland.] He was "impawned as a surety for the safe return" of Worcester.

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,
By still dispraising praise, valued with you:
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital' of himself;
And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd" there a double spirit,
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly.
There did he pause; But let me tell the world,—
If he outlive the envy of this day,

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, at 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,

S

engaged,] i. e. Delivered as an hostage.

He made a blushing cital-] Mr. Pope observes, that by cital is meant taxation; but I rather think it means recital.-STEEVENS.

Of any prince, so wild, at liberty:-] Of any prince that played such pranks, and was not confined as a madman.-JOHNSON.

Than 1, 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 conscience,-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 musick let us all embrace:
For, heaven to earth,' some of us never shall
A second time do such a courtesy.

[The Trumpets sound. They embrace,
and exeunt.

SCENE III.

Plain near Shrewsbury.

Excursions, and parties fighting.

Alarum to the Battle.

Then enter DOUGLAS and BLUNT, meeting.

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle thus

y Now,-Esperance!-] This was the word of battle on Percy's side. z For, heaven to earth,] i. e. One might wager heaven to earth.-WARBURTON.

Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek
Upon my head?

Doug.

Know then, my name is Douglas;

And I do haunt thee in the battle thus,

Because some tell me that thou art a king.

Blunt. They tell thee true.

Doug. The lord of Stafford dear to-day hath bought Thy likeness; for, instead of thee, king Harry,

The sword hath ended him: so shall it thee,

Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner.

Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot; And thou shalt find a king that will revenge

Lord Stafford's death.

[They fight, and BLUNT is slain.

Enter HOTSPUR.

Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumph'd upon a Scot.

Doug. All's done, all's won; here breathless lies the

Hot. Where?

Doug. Here.

[king.

Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know this face full well: A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; Semblably furnish'd like the king himself.

Doug. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes!
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear.
Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king?
Hot. The king hath many marching in his coats.
Doug. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats;
I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece,

Fal. Though I could 'scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here; here's no scoring, but upon the pate.

a Semblably- i. e. In resemblance, alike.

b

shot-free-] A play upon the word shot, as it means the part of a reckoning and a missive weapon discharged from artillery.-JOHNSON.