That you foresee not what impediments
Drag back our expedition; certain horse
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 horfe 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 reft.
Wor. The number of the King's exceedeth ours:
For God's fake, coufin, ftay 'till all come in.
[The trumpet founds a parley. SCENE V. Enter Sir Walter Blunt.
Blunt. I come with gracious offers from the King,
If you vouchsafe me hearing, and respect.
Hot. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt: and would to God
You were of our determination;
Some of us love you well; and ev'n those fome
Envy your great defervings, and good name,
Because you are not of our quality,
But ftand againft us like an enemy.
Blunt. And heav'n defend, but ftill I fhould ftand fo!
So long as out of limit and true rule
You ftand against anointed Majefty.
But to my charge. The King hath fent to know
The nature of your griefs, and whereupon
You conjure from the breaft of civil peace
Such bold hoftility, teaching his duteous land
Audacious cruelty. If that the King
Have any way your good deferts forgot,
Which he confeffeth to be manifold,
He bids you name your griefs; and with all speed
You shall have your defires, with interest:
And pardon abfolute for your self, and these,
Herein mif-led by your fuggeftion.
Hot. The King is kind: and well we know, the King
Knows at what time to promife, when to pay.
My father and my uncle, and my self,
Did give him that fame royalty he wears :
And when he was not fix and twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,
A poor unminded out-law, fneaking home,
My father gave him welcome to the fhore:
And when we heard him fwear, and vow to God,
He came to be but Duke of Lancaster,
To fue his livery and beg his peace,
With tears of innocence and terms of zeal;
My father, in kind heart and pity mov'd,
Swore him affiftance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the Lords and Barons of the realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
They more and lefs came in with cap and knee,
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,
Attended him on bridges, ftood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs, as pages following him
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.
He prefently, as greatness knows it felf,
Steps a little higher than his vow
Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg:
And now, forfooth, takes on him to reform
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lay too heavy on the common-wealth;
Cries out upon abuses, feems to weep
Over his country's wrongs; and by this face,
This feeming brow of juftice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for:
Proceeded further, cut me off the heads
Of all the fav'rites that the absent King
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was perfonal in the Irish war.
Blunt. I came not to hear this.
Hot. Then to the point.
In fhort time after, he depos'd the King,
Soon after that depriv'd him of his life:
And in the neck of that, tafk'd the whole state.
To make that worfe, fuffer'd his kinfman March,
(Who is, if every owner were right plac'd,
Indeed his King) to be encag'd in Wales,
There, without ranfom, to lye forfeited:
Digrac'd me in my happy victories,
Sought to entrap me by intelligence,
Rated my uncle from the council-board,
In rage difmifs'd my father from the Court,
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,
And in conclufion drove us to feek out
This head of fafety; and withal to pry
Into his title too, the which we find
Too indirect for long continuance.
Blunt. Shall I return this anfwer to the King?
Hot. Not fo, Sir Walter; we'll withdraw a while:
Go to the King, and let there be impawn'd
Some furety for a safe return again;
And in the morning early fhall my uncle
Bring him our purposes: and fo farewel.
Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and love!
Hot. It may be, fo we fhall.
Blunt. Pray heav'n you do!
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI. The Archbishop of York's Palace,
Enter the Archbishop of York, and Sir Michell.
York. Hie, good Sir Michell, bear this fealed brief
With winged hafte to the Lord Mareshal,
This to my coufin Scroop, and all the reft
To whom they are directed if you knew
How much they do import, you wou'd make hafte.
Sir Mich. My Lord, I guess their tenour.
York. Like enough.
To-morrow, good Sir Michell, is a day
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men
Muft bide the touch. For, Sir, at Shrewsbury,
As I am truly giv'n to understand,
The King, with mighty and quick-raifed power,
Meets with Lord Harry; and I fear, Sir Michell,
What with the fickness of Northumberland,
Whose pow'r was in the first proportion;
And what with Owen Glendower's abfence thence,
Who with them was a rated finew too,
And comes not in, o'er-rul'd by prophecies;
I fear the pow'r of Percy is too weak,
To wage an instant tryal with the King.
Sir Mich. Why, my good Lord, there's Dowglas, and Lord Mortimer.
York. No, Mortimer is not there.
Sir Mich. But there is Mordake, Vernon, Harry Percy, And there's my Lord of Worcester, and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
York. And fo there is: but yet the King hath drawn The fpecial head of all the land together :
The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Westmorlard, and warlike Blunt ;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of eftimation and command in arms.
Sir Mich. Doubt not, my Lord, they shall be well oppos'd. York. I hope no lefs: yet needful 'tis to fear. And to prevent the worst, Sir Michell, fpeed ;: For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King Difmifs his power, he means to visit us; For he hath heard of our confederacy, And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against him: Therefore make hafte, I must go write again To other friends; and fo farewel, Sir Michell!
ACT V. SCENE I.
The Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancafter, Sir Walter Blunt, and Falstaff.
WOW bloodily the fun begins to peer
Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale
At his diftemperature.
P. Henry. The fouthern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
And by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretels a tempeft, and a bluft'ring day.
K. Henry. Then with the lofers let it fympathize,
For nothing can seem foul to thofe that win.
Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.
K. Henry. How now, my Lord of Wor'fter ? 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon fuch terms
As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our trufts,
And make us doff our eafie robes of peace,
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
This is not well, my Lord, this is not well.
What fay you to't? will you again unknit
This churlifh 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 proteft,
I have not fought the day of this diflike.
K. Henry. You have not fought it, Sir? how comes it then?
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Henry. Peace, Chewet, peace.
Wor. It pleas'd your Majefty to turn your looks
Of favour from my felf, and all our house;
And yet I must remember you, my Lord,
We were the first and dearest of your friends:
For you, my ftaff of office did I break
In Richard's time, and pofted day and night
To meet you on the way, and kifs your hand,
When yet you were in place and in account
Nothing fo ftrong and fortunate, as I:
It was my felf, my brother, and his fon,
That brought you home, and boldly did out-dare
The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
And you did fwear that oath at Doncafter,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state,
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The feat of Gaunt, Dukedom of Lancaster.
To this we fware our aid: but in short space
It rain'd down fortune fhow'ring on your head,
And fuch a flood of greatnefs fell on you,
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