Ver. And further, I have learn'd,

The King himself in perfon hath set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,

With ftrong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He fhall be welcome too: where is his fon?
The nimble-footed mad-cap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daft the world afide
And bid it pafs?

Ver. All furnifht, all in arms,

All plum'd like Eftridges, that with the wind
Baited like Eagles, having lately bath'd: ?
Glittering in golden coats like images,
As full of fpirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the Sun at Midfummer
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
I faw young Harry, with his beaver on,
His cuiffes on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,
Rife from the ground like feather'd Mercury;
And vaulted with fuch eafe into his feat.
As if an Angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegafus, co. (hav
And witch the world with noble horfemanship.
Hot. No more, no more; worfe than the Sun in
March,
a loved idI
This praise doth nourish agues; let them come.
They come like Sacrifices in their trim,

T

And to the fire-ey'd maid of fmoaky warms
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them.
The mailed Mars fhall on his altar fit od IM J
Up to the ears in blood. I am ons fire, snug bowl
To hear this rich reprifal is so nigh, vad
And yet not ours. bi Come, let me take my hoffe, vita
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, Judson
Against the bofom of the Prince of Walesvo ein
Harry to Harry fhall (not horse to horsehe an wo b'ale
Meet, and ne'er part, till One drop down a coarfe.
Oh, that Glendower were come!

Ver. There is more news:

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along,

He cannot draw his Pow'r this fourteen days.

Dow

Dow. That's the worst tidings that I hear of, yet. Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frofty found. 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 Pow'r of us may ferve fo great a day.
Come, let us take a muster speedily:
Dooms-day is near; die all, die merrily.

Dow: Talk not of dying, I am out of fear
Of death, or death's hand, for this one half year.

og ai [Exeunt.

Fal. bottle of fack: our foldiers hall march B

a

through: we'll to Sutton-cop-hill to night. bre Bard. Will you give me mony, captain? ris Fal. Lay out, lay out.

Bard. This bottel makes an angel.

Fal. And if it do, take it for thy labour; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coynage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain; farewel.ld bus [Exit. Fal. If I be not afham'd of my foldiers, I am a fowc'd gurnet: I have mif-us'd the King's Prefs damnably. I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty foldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good houfholders, yeomens fons; enquire me out contracted batchelors, fuch as had been ask'd twice on the banes: fuch a commodity of warm flaves, cas had as lieve hear the devil, as a drum; such as fear the report of a culverin, worse than a ftruckfowl, or a hurt wild duck. I press me none but fuch toafts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins heads, and they have bought out their fervices:

fervices; and now my whole Charge confifls of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies, flaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the Glutton's dogs licked his fores; and fuch as indeed were never foldiers, but dif-carded unjust servingmen, younger fons to younger brothers; revolted tapfters, and oftlers trade-fall'n, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace (19) ten times more dishonourably ragged, than an old-fac'd ancient and fuch have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their fervices; that you would think, I had. a hundred and fifty tatter'd Prodigals, lately come from fwine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and preft the dead bodies. No eye hath feen fuch skare-crows 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 prifon. There's but a fhirt and a half in all my company; and the half fhirt is two napkins, tack'd together, and

ǝriM

(19) ten times more dishonourably ragged than an old-fac'd Anan cient. Shakespeare ufes this Word fo promifcuously, to fignify an Enfign or Standard-bearer, and alfo the Colours or Standard borne, that I cannot be at a Certainty for his Allufion here. If the Testobeigenuine, I think, the Meaning muit be, as difhonourably ragged as one that has been an Enfign all his days; that has let Age him, and never

had Merit enough to gain Preferment, Mr. Warburton, who understands it in the Second Conftruction, has fufpected the Text, and given the following ingenious Emendation. How is an old fac'd Ancient, or "Enfign, difhonourably ragged? On the contrary, Nothing is efteem'd "more honourable than a ragged of Colours. A very little Alteration will reftore it to its Original Senfe, which contains a Touch of the *frongest and most fine-turn'd Satire in the World!

Ten times more difhonourably ragged, than an old Feast Ancient sour: i. e. the Colours ufed by the City-Companies in their Feafts and Proceffions. For each Company had one with its peculiar Device, which * was ufually difplay'd and borne about on fuch Occafions. Now Nothing could be more witty or fatirical than this Comparison. For as Falstaff's Raggamuffins were reduc'd to their tatter'd Condition thro' their riotous Exceffes; fo this old Feaft Ancient became torn and fhat"ter'd, not in any manly Exercife of Arms, but amidst the Revels of drunken Bacchanals.

46

thrown

thrown over the fhoulders like a herald's coat without fleeves; and the fhìrt, to say the truth, ftoll'n from my Hoft of St. Albans, or the red-nos'd Inn-keeper of Daintry. But that's all one, they'll find linnen enough on every hedge.

1

Enter Prince Henry, and Weftmorland.

1 P. Henry. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt? Fal. What Hal? How now, mad wag, what a devil doft thou in Warwickshire? My good lord of Weftmorland, I cry you mercy, I thought, your Honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

Weft. '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 muft away all to night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me, I am as vigilant, as a Cat to fteal cream. II P.:

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

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

P. Henry, I did never fee fuch pitiful rafcals.

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

Weft. Ay, but Sir John, methinks, they are exceeding

poor and bare, too beggarly.talion bios

Fal. Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that; and for their bareness, I am fure, they never learn'd that of me

P. Henry. No, ll be worn, unless you call three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, Sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field.

Fal. What, is the King encamp'd?

A 10:

Weft. He is, Sir John: I fear, we shall tay too long. Fal. Well,

The latter end of a fray, and beginning of a feaft,
Fits a dull Fighter, and a keen Guest.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE changes to Shrewsbury.

Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon. E'll fight with him to night.

Hot. W

Wor. It may not be.

Dow. You give him then advantage.
Ver. Not a whit.

Hot. Why fay you fo? looks he not for supply?

- Ver. So do we.

Hot. He is certain, ours is doubtful.

Wor. Good coufin, be advis'd; ftir not to night.
Ver. Do not, my lord.

-Dow. You do not counfel well;

You fpeak it out of fear, and from cold heart.
Ver. Do me no flander, Dowglas: 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 feen to morrow in the battel,
Which of us fears.

Ver. Come, come, it may not be: I wonder much, Being men of fuch great Leading as you are,

That you forefee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition; certain horfe
Of my coufin Vernon's are not yet come up;
Your uncle Worcester's horfe 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 half of himself.

Hot. So are the horfes of the enemy,

In gen❜ral, journey-bated, and brought low:
The better part of ours are full of Rest.

Wor. The number of the King's exceedeth ours:

For God's fake, coufin, ftay till all come in.

[The Trumpet founds a parley.

Enter