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The very bottom, and the soul of hope,
The very lift, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.

Dow. 'Faith, and so we should ;
Where now remains a sweet reversion.
Wę now may boldly spend, upon the hope
Of what is to come in :
A comfort of retirement lives in this.

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,
If that the devil and mischance look big
Upon the maidenhead of our affairs.

Wor. But yet I would your father had been here :
The quality and hair of our attempt
Brooks no division : it will be thought
By some, that know not why he is away,
That wisdom, loyalty, and meer disike
Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence,
And think, how such an apprehenfion
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause :
For well you know, we of th’offending fide
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement,
And stop all fight-holes, every loop from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon uş :
This absence of your father draws a curtain,
That shews the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt upon.

Hot. You strain too far.
I rather of his absence make this use:
It lends a luftrę, and more great opinion,
A larger glare to our great enterprise,
Than if the Earl were here : for men must think,
If we withgụt his help can make a head,
To puíh against the kingdom ; with his help,
We shall o'er-turn it topsie-turvy down.
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.

Dow. As heart can think ; there is not luch a word Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear.

SCENE 11. Enter Sir Richard Vernon. Hor. My cousin Verron, welcome, by my soul.

Vr. Pray God my news be worth a welcome, Lord.
The Earl of Westmorland, fev’n thousand strong,
Is marching hither with Prince Jobr of Lancaster,

Hot. No harm; what more !

Ver. And further, I have learn'd,
The King himself in person hath set forth,
Or hitherwards intended speedily,
With strong and mighty preparation.

Hot. He shall be welcome too : where is his son ?
The nimble-footed mad-cap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades, that daffe the world asideg.
And bid it pass ?

Ver. All furnisht, all in arms,
All plum'd like Eftridges, and with the wind
Baiting like Eagles having lately bath'd :
Glittering in golden coats like images ;
As full of spirit as the month of May,
And gorgeous as the sun at Midsummer,
Wanton as youthful goats, . wild as young bulls.
I law

young Harry, with his beaver up,
His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm’d,
Rise from the ground like feather’d Mercury ;
And vaulted with such ease into his feat,
As if an Angel dropt down from the clouds,
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
And * witch the world with noble horsemanship.

Hot. No more, no more ; worse than the sun in March,
This praise doth nourish agues ; let them come.
They come like facrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoaky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them.
The mailed Mars Thall on his altar fit
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire,
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,
And yet not ours. Come, let me take my horse,
Who is to bear me like a thunder-bolt,
Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales.
Harry to Harry shall, and horse to horse
Meet, and ne'er part, 'till One drop down a coarfe.
• Witch, for bewitch, charm.

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on,

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. That's the worst tidings that I hear of, yet.
Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hot. What may the King's whole battle reach unto ?
Ver. To thirty thousand.

Hor. Forty let it be,
My father and Glendower being both away,
The pow'r of us may ferve so 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. (Exeunt.
SCENE III. The Road to Coventry.

Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.
Fal. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ; fill me a
bottle of sack : our soldiers shall march through: we'll to
Sutton-colfield to-night.

Bard. Will you give me mony, captain ?
Fal. Lay out, lay out.
Bard. This bottle makes an angel.

Hal. An if it do, take it for thy labour ; and if it make twenty, take them all, I'll answer the coynage. Bid my licutenant Peto meet me at the town's end. Bard. I will, captain ; farewel.

(Exit. *Fal. If I be nct alham’d of my soldiers, I am a luwc'd gurnet : I have mis-usid the King's press damnably. I have got, in exchange of an hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good houlholders, yeomens fons; enquire me out contracted batchelors, such as had been ask'd twice on the banes : such a commodity of warm laves, as had as lieve hear the devil, as a drum ; such as fear the report of a culverin, worse than a struck Deer, or a hurt wild-fowl. I press me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins heads, and they have bought out their services : and now my whole charge consists of Ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies,

Klares as ragged as Lasır':s in the painted cloth, where the glutton's dogs licked his fores; and such as indeed were nevar foldiers, but discarded unjust servingmen, younger fons to younger brothers : revolted tapsters, and oftlers tradefall'n, the cankers of a calm world and long peace ; ten times more dishonourably ragged, thanan old-fac’d Ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services ; that you would think I had a hendred and fifty tatter'd prodigals, lately come from swinekeeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had unloaded all the gibbets, and prest the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scare-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 prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all my company ; and the half shirt is two napkins tack'd together, and thrown over the shoulders like a herald's coat without neeves ; and the shirt, to say the truth, Atol'n from my host 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.

Enter Prince Henry, and Westmorland.
P. Henry. How now, blown Jack? how now, quilt ?

Fel. Whar, Hal ? How now, mad wag, what a devil do't thou in Warwickshire ? My good Lord of Westmorland, I cry you mercy, I thought your honour had already been at Sbrewsbury:

Weft: ?Faith, Sir Jobn, 'tis more than cime that I were there, and you too ; but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all ; we must away all to-night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me, I am as vigilant, as a Cat to Iteal cream.

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

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.
P. Henry. I did mever see such pitiful rascals.
Fah Tut; tut, good enough to tofs : food for powder,

food

food for powder ; they'll fill-a pit, as well as better ; tush, man, morial men, mortal men.

Weft. Ay, but, Sir Fobn, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.

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

P. Henry. No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers. on the ribs, bare. But, Sirrah, make hafte. Percy is ale ready in the field.

Fal. What, is the King encamp'd ?
Weft. He is, Sir Jobre : I fear we shall stay too long.

Fal. Well,
The latter end of a fray, and beginning of a feast,
Fits à dull fighter, and a keen gueft.“ (Exeunt.

SCENE IV. At Shrewsbury.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Dowglas, and Vernon.
Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.
Wor. It may not be.
Dow. You give him then advantage.
Ver. Not a whit.
Hot. Why say you fo? looks he not for supply ?
Ver. So do we.
Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtful.
Wor. Good cousin, be advis’d; ftir not to-night.
Ver. Do not, my Lord.

Dow. You do not counsel well;
You speak it out of fear, and from cold heart.

Ver. Do me no Nander, 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 seen to-morrow in the battel,
Which of us fears.

Dow. Yea, or to-night.
Ver. Content.
Hot. To-night, say I.
Ver. Come, come,

it may not be : I wonder much, Being men of luch great leading as you are,

That

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