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P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee : The money is paid back again.

Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour.

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing.

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too.

Bard. Do, my lord.

P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot.

Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can sleal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them.

P. Hen. Bardolph,-
Bard. My lord.

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster,
My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland.-
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I,
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.
Jack,
Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall,
At two o'clock i'the afternoon:
There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive
Money, and order for their furniture.
The land is burning ; Percy stands on high;
And either they, or we, must lower lie.

[Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!

-Hostess, my breakfast; come :0, I could wish, this tavern were my drum! [Exit. SCENE 1. The Rebel Camp, near SHREWSBURY.

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Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS.
Hot. Well said, my noble Scot: if speaking truth,
In this fine age, were not thought flattery,
Such attribution should the Douglas have,
As not a soldier of this season's stamp
Should go so general current through the world.
By heaven, I cannot flatter; I defy
The tongues of smoothers; but a braver place
In my heart's love, hath nó man than yourself:
Nay, task me to the word; approve me,

lord.
Doug. Thou art the king of honour :
No man so potent breathes upon the ground,
But I will beard him.
Hot.

Do so, and 'tis well:-
Enter a Messenger, with Letters.
What letters hast thou there?-I can but thank you.

Mess. These letters come from your father,

Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself?
Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick.

Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick,
In such a justling time? Who leads his power!
Under whose government come they along?

Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.
Wor. I prythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?

Mess. He did, my lord, four days.ere I set forth;
And at the time of my departure thence,
He was much fear'd by his physicians.

Wor. I would, the state of time had first been whole, Ere he by sickness had been visited; His health was never better worth than now.

Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect
The very life-blood of our enterprise;
'Tis catching hither, even to our camp.-
He writes me here,-that inward sickness
And that his friends by deputation could not
So soon be drawn; nor did he think it meet,
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust
On any soul remov’d, but on his own.
Yet doth he give us bold advertisement,-.
That with our small conjunction, we should on,
To see how fortune is dispos'd to us :
For, as he writes, there is no quailing now;
Because the king is certainly possess'd

all our purposes. What say you to it?
Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us.

Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off:-
And yet, in faith, 'tis not; his present want
Seems more than we shall find it :-Were it good,
To set the exact wealth of all our states
All at one cast? to set so rich a main
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?
It were not good : for therein should we read
The very bottom and the soul of hope;
The very list, the very utmost bound
Of all our fortunes.
Doug.

'Faith, and so we shouldl; Where now remains a sweet reversion:

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We 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 mere dislike
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence;
And think, how such an apprehension
May turn the tide of fearful faction,
And breed a kind of question in our cause :
For, well you know, we of the offering side
Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement;
And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from whence
The eye of reason may pry in upon us :
This absence of your father's draws a curtain,
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear
Before not dreamt of.
Hot.

You strain too far.
I, rather, of his absence make this use;
It lends á lustre, and more great opinion,
A larger dare to our great enterprise,
Than if the earl were here: for men must think,
If we without his help, can make a head
To push against the kingdom ; with his help,
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down.
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.

Doug. As heart can think : there is not such a word Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear..

Enter Sir RICHARD VERNON.
Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul.

Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord.
The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince John.

Hot. No harm: What more?

Ver.

And further, I have learn'd,“ The king himself in person is set forth, Or bitherwards 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 daff'd the world aside,
And bid it pass?
Ver.

All furnish'd, all in arms,
All plum'd like estridges that wing the wind;
Bated 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 saw young Harry,—with bis beaver on,
His caisses on his thighs, gallantly arm’d,-
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury,
And vaalted with such ease into his seat,
As if an angel dropp'd 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 sacrifices in their trim,
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky war,
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer thein:
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit,
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 ine, like a thunderbolt,
Against the bosom of the prince of Wales :
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse,
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.-
0, that Glendower were come!
Ver.

There is more news : I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.

Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet.

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