'T was where the madcap duke his uncle kept;
His uncle York ;-where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
North. At Berkley castle.

Hot. You say true:

Why, what a candy deal of courtesy

99

This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look,-" when his infant fortune came to age,'
And," gentle Harry Percy," and, "kind cousin,"
O, the devil take such cozeners!- -God forgive me -
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to 't again
We'll stay your leisure.

His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation

As what I think might be, but what I know

Is ruminated, plotted, and set down;

And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.
Hot. I smell it.

Upon my life it will do wond'rous well.

North. Before the game's a-foot thou still lett'st slip. Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot :And then the power of Scotland and of York,—

To join with Mortimer, ha?

And so they shall.

Wor.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.
Wor. And 't is no little reason bids us speed,

To save our heads by raising of a head:

For, bear ourselves as even as we can,

The king will always think him in our debt ;
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

And see already, how he doth begin

To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him.
Wor. Cousin, farewell;-No further go in this,

Than I by letters shall direct your course,

To North.

When time is ripe, which will be suddenly.
I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer;
Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once,
(As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet,

To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,

Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

North. Farewell, good brother; we shall thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu :-0, let the hours be short,
Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport!

[Exeunt.

124.-THE BATTLE OF SHREWSBURY.

SHAKSPERE.

["King Henry," says Holinshed, "advertised of the proceedings of the Percies, forthwith gathered about him such power as he might make, and passed forward with such speed that he was in sight of his enemies lying in camp near to Shrewsbury before they were in doubt of any such thing." The Percies, according to the Chronicler, sent to the king the celebrated manifesto which is contained in Hardyng's Chronicle. The interview of Worcester with the king, and its result, are thus described by Holinshed: "It was reported for a truth that now when the king had condescended unto all that was reasonable at his hands to be required, and seemed to humble himself more than was meet for his estate, the Earl of Worcester, upon his return to his nephew, made reation clean contrary to that the king had said: "—

"O, no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard,-
The liberal kind offer of the king."

In the Chroniclers, Hotspur exhorts the troops; Shakspere clothes the exhortation with his own poetical spirit.

"Now, Esperance!-Percy!-and set on,"

is found in the Chroniclers :-" The adversaries cried Esperance Percy." The danger of the king, and the circumstance of others being caparisoned like him, are also mentioned by Holinshed.

The prowess of Prince Henry in this his first great battle is thus described by Holinshed: "The Prince that day holp his father like a lusty young gentleman, for although he was hurt in the face with an arrow, so that divers noble men that were about him would have conveyed him forth of the field, yet he would in no wise suffer them so to do, lest his departure from his men might haply have stricken some fear into their hearts; and so, without regard of his hurt, he continued with his men, and never ceased, either to fight where the battle was most hottest, or to encourage his men where it seemed most need."

The personal triumph of Henry over Hotspur is a dramatic creation, perfectly warranted by the obscurity in which the Chroniclers leave the matter.]

SCENE.-King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince John of Lancaster, Sir Walter

That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet: You have deceiv'd our trust;
And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What say you to it will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war?
And move in that obedient orb again,
Where you did give a fair and natural light;
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
A prodigy of fear, and a portent

Of broached mischief to the unborn times?
Wor. Hear me, my liege:

For mine own part I could be well content
To entertain the lag end of my life

With quiet hours; for, I do protest,

I have not sought the day of this dislike.

K. Hen. You have not sought it! how comes it then? Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty to turn your looks

Of favour from myself, and all our house;
And yet I must remember you, my lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends.
For you, my staff of office did I break

In Richard's time; and posted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.

It was myself, my brother, and his son,
That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
The danger of the time: You swore to us,—
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,-
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
To this we sware our aid. But, in short space,
It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
And such a flood of greatness fell on you,-
What with our help; what with the absent king;
What with the injuries of a wanton time;
The seeming sufferances that you had borne ;
And the contrarious winds, that held the king
So long in his unlucky Irish wars,
That all in England did repute him dead,—
And, from this swarm of fair advantages,
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
To gripe the general sway into your hand;
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ;
And, being fed by us, you used us so
As that ungentle gull the cuckoo's bird
Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest;

Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,

That even our love durst not come near your sight,
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd, for safety sake, to fly
Out of your sight, and raise this present head
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself;
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth

Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated,
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches,
To face the garment of rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation :

And never yet did insurrection want
Such water-colours to impaint his cause;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pellmell havoc and confusion.

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,

The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: By my hopes,-
This present enterprise set off his head,-
I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;
And so, I hear, he doth account me too:
Yet this before my father's majesty,-
I am content that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation;
And will, to save the blood on either side,

Try fortune with him in a single fight.

K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee, Albeit considerations infinite

Do make against it :-No, good Worcester, no,

We love our people well; even those we love
That are misled upon your cousin's part:
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man,
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his :
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do:-Bnt if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
We will not now be troubled with reply:
We offer fair, take it advisedly.

[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:
And God befriend us, as our cause is just !

125.-THE DEATH OF HENRY IV.

SHAKSPERE.

[The circumstances which preceded the death of Henry IV., including the story of the prince removing the crown, are thus detailed by Holinshed:

"In this fourteenth and last year of King Henry's reign, a council was holden in the White Friars in London, at the which, among other things, order was taken for ships and galleys to be builded and made ready, and all other things necessary to be provided, for a voyage which he meant to make into the Holy Land, there to recover the city of Jerusalem from the infidels. The morrow after Candlemas-day, began a Parliament which he had called at London; but he departed this life before the same Parliament was ended: for now that his provisions were ready, and that he was furnished with all things necessary for such a royal journey as he pretended to take into the Holy Land, he was eftsoones taken with a sore sickness, which was not a leprosy (saith Master Hall), as foolish friars imagined, but a very apoplexy. During this, his last sickness, he caused his crown (as some write) to be set on a pillow at his bed's-head, and suddenly his pangs so sore troubled him, that he lay as though all his vital spirits had been from him departed. Such as were about him, thinking verily that he had been departed, covered his face with a linen cloth. The prince his son being hereof advertised, entered into the chamber, took away the crown, and departed. The father being suddenly revived out of that trance, quickly perceived the lack of his crown, and having knowledge that the prince his son had taken it away, caused him to come before his presence, requiring of him what he meant so to misuse himself: the prince with a good audacity answered, Sir, to mine, and all men's judgments, you seemed dead in this world; wherefore I, as your next heir apparent, took that as mine own, and not as yours. Well fair son, said the king (with a great sigh), what right I had to it, God knoweth. Well, quoth the prince, if you die king, I will have the garland, and trust to keep it with the sword against all mine enemies, as you have done. Then, said the king, I commit all to God, and remember you to do well; and with that turned himself in his bed, and shortly after departed to God, in a chamber of the Abbots of Westminster called Jerusalem. We find, that he was taken with his last sickness, while he was making his prayers at Saint Edward's shrine, there as it were to take his leave, and so to proceed forth on his journey: he was so suddenly and grievously taken, that such as were about him feared lest he would have died presently; wherefore, to relieve him, if it were possible, they bare him into a chamber that was next at hand belonging to the Abbot of Westminster, where they laid him on a pallet before the fire, and used all remedies to revive him: at length he recovered his speech and understanding, and perceiving himself in a strange place which he knew not, he willed to know if the chamber had any particular name, whereunto answer was made, that it was called Jerusalem. Then said the king, laudes be given to the Father of Heaven, for now I know that I shall die here in this chamber, according to the prophesy of me declared, that I should depart this life in Jerusalem."]

SCENE-Westminster.-King Henry, Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Warwick,
and others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if Heaven doth give successful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,

We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,