K. Henry. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,

Albeit, Confiderations infinite

Do make against it. No, good Wor'fter, no,
We love our People well; even those we love,
That are misled upon your Coufin'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 Coufin, and return me word
What he will do. But if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread Correction wait on us,
And they fhall do their office. So, be gone;
We will not now be troubled with Reply;
We offer fair, take it advisedly.

[Exit Worcester, with Vernon.
P. Henry. It will not be accepted, on my life.
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.

K. Henry. Hence, therefore, every Leader to his Charge.

For on their anfwer we will fet on them.

And God befriend us, as our caufe is juft! [Exeunt.

S CEN E II.

Manent Prince Henry and Falstaff.

Fal. Hal, if thou fee me down in the battle, and beftride me, fo; 'tis a point of friendship.

P. Henry. Nothing but a Coloffus cán do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewel.

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and all well. P. Henry. Why, thou oweft heav'n a death.

[Exit P. Henry *.

Fal. 'Tis not due yet: I would be loth to pay him before his day. What need I be fo forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter, honour

* This exit is remarked by Mr. Upton.

pricks me on; but how if honour prick me off, when I come on? how then? Can honour fet to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no: honour hath no fkill in furgery then? no. What is honour? a word. What is that word honour? Air; a trim Reckoning. Who hath it? he that dy'd a Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. Is it infenfible then? yea, to the dead; but will it not live with the living? no; why? Detraction will not fuffer it. Therefore, I'll none of it; honour is a meer fcutcheon, and fo ends my catechism.

Wor.

SCENE III.

Changes to Percy's Camp.

5

[Exit.

Enter Worcester, and Sir Richard Vernon.

O,

No, my nephew must not know, Sir
Richard,

The liberal kind offer of the King.

Ver. 'Twere beft, he did.

Wor. Then we are all undone.

It is not poffible, it cannot be,

The King fhould keep his word in loving us;
He will fufpect us ftill, and find a time

6

To punish this offence in other faults.

Sufpicion, all our lives, fhall be ftuck full of eyes; For treafon is but trufted like a Fox,

Who ne'er fo tame, fo cherish'd, and lock'd up,

proceffions. And by meer fcutcheon is infinuated, that, whether alive or dead, honour was but a name. WARBURTON. Sufpicion, all our lives, fall

$ honour is a meer fcutcheon,] This is very fine. The reward of brave actions formerly was only fome honourable bearing in the fhields of arms beftow'd 6 upon defervers. But Falstaff having faid that honour often came not till after death, he calls it very wittily a fcutcheon, which is the painted heraldry borne in funeral

be fuck full of eyes.] The fame image of fufpicion is exhibited in a Latin tragedy, called Roxana, written about the fame time by Dr. William Alablafter.

P 4

Will

Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.
Look how we can, or fad, or merrily,
Interpretation will mifquote our looks;
And we fhall feed like Oxen at a stall,
The better cherish'd, ftill the nearer death.
My nephew's trefpafs may be well forgot,
It hath th' excuse of youth and heat of blood;
And an adopted name of privilege,

7

A hair-brain'd Hot-fpur, 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, fhall pay for all.
Therefore, good coufin, let not Harry know,
In any cafe the offer of the King.

Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll fay, 'tis fo.
Here comes your coufin.

Enter Hot-fpur and Dowglas,

Hot. My uncle is return'd.

up my lord of Westmorland.

-Deliver up my

-Uncle, what news?

Wor. The King will bid you battle prefently. Dowg. Defy him by the lord of Westmorland. Hot, Lord Dowglas, go you then and tell him so, Dowg. Marry, I fhall; and very willingly. [Exit Dowglas, Wor. There is no feeming 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 forfwearing that he is forfworn.

7 An adopted name of privilege, name of Hot-fpur will privilege A bair brain'd Hot-fpur.] The him from cenfure.

He

He calls us rebels, traitors, and will scourge
With haughty arms this hateful name in us,

Enter Dowglas.

Dowg. Arm, gentlemen, to arms; for I have thrown A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth,

" And Westmorland, that was ingag'd, did bear it; Which cannot chufe but bring him quickly on.

Wor. The Prince of Wales ftept forth before the King, And, Nephew, challeng'd you to fingle fight.

Hot. O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads,
And that no man might draw fhort breath to day,
But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me,
How fhew'd his talking? feem'd it in contempt?
Ver. No, by my foul; I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modeftly,
Unless a brother fhould a brother dare,
To gentle exercife and proof of arms.
He gave you all the duties of a man,
Trim'd up your praises with a princely tongue,
Spoke your defervings like a chronicle,

Making you ever better than his Praise:

9

By ftill difpraising Praise, valu'd with You. And, which became him like a Prince indeed,

8 And Weftmorland, that was ingag'd.] Engag'd is, delivered as an hoftage. A few lines before, upon the return of Worcefter, he orders Weftmorland to be difmiffed.

9 By ftill difprailing Praife, valued with You] This foolish line is indeed in the Folio of 1623, but it is evidently, the players' nonfense. WARB.

This line is not only in the first folio, but in all the editions before it that I have seen. Why it should be cenfured as non

'He made a blushing cital of himself,
And chid his truant youth with fuch a grace,
As if he master'd there a double spirit,
Of teaching, and of learning, inftantly.
There did he pause; but let me tell the world,
If he out-live the envy of this day,

England did never owe fo fweet a hope,
So much mifconftrued in his wantonnefs.
Hot. Coufin, I think, thou art enamoured
Upon his follies; never did I hear
2 Of any Prince, fo wild, at liberty.
But be he as he will, yet once ere night,
I will embrace him with a foldier's arm,
That he fhall fhrink under my courtefie.

Arm, arm with speed. And fellows, foldiers, friends,
Better confider what you have to do,

Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue,

Can lift your blood

up with perfuafion.

SCENE V.

Enter a Messenger.

Meff. My lord, here are letters for
Hot. I cannot read them now.

you.

O Gentlemen, the time of life is fhort,

To spend that shortness bafely were too long,
Tho' life did ride upon a dial's point,
Still ending at th' arrival of an hour.
And if we live, we live to tread on Kings;
If die; brave death, when Princes die with us!
Now, for our confciences, the arms are fair,
When the intent for bearing them is juft.

He made a blushing cital of
himself,] Cital for taxation.
POPE.
Of any Prince, fo wild, at

liberty.] Of any prince that played fuch pranks, and was not Confined as a madman.

4

Enter