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To fright our party.

North. How doth my son and brother ? “ Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. “ Even such a man, fo faint, so spiritless, “ So dull, fo dead in look, so woe.be-gone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, “ And would have told him, half his Troy was burn'd: "But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue; And I my Percy's death ere thou report'st it. This thou would'st say: Your son did thus and thus: Your brother, thus : fo fought the noble Douglas: Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds. But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed, Thou hast a figh to blow away this praise, Ending with, Brother, son, and all are dead.

lort. Douglas iş living, and your brother, yet; But for my Lord your son

North. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know, Hath, by instinct, knowledge from other's eyes, That what he fear'd is chance’d. Yet, Morton, speak; Tell thou thy Earl, his divination lyes ; And I will take it as a sweet disgrace, And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.

Mort. You are too great to be by me gainfaid : Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.

North. Yet, for all this, fay not that Percy's dead. I fee a strange confession in thine eye : Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'It it fear *, or fin, To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so: The tongue offends not that reports his death : And he doth sin, that doth belye the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office; and his tongue Sounds ever after as a fullen bell, Remember'd, tolling a departing friend,

Bard. I cannot think, my Lord, your son is dead. Mort. I'm forry I should force you to believe * Fear, for dan er.

That

That which I would to heaven I had not seen.
But these mine eyes faw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath’d,
To Henry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence, with life, he never more sprung up.
In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullelt peasant in his camp)
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the beit-temper'd courage in his troops.
For from his meral was his party steel'd;
Which once in him rebated, all the rest
Turn’d on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
l'pon enforcement, Aies with greatest speed;
So did our men, heavy in Hot-spur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear,
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim,
Than did our foldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was that noblo Wor'ster
Too foon ta’en prisoner: and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times sain th' appearance of the King,
'Gan vail his stomach, and did grace

the shame
Of those that turn'd their backs; and in his fight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is, that the King hath won; and hath fent out
A speedy' pow'r to encounter you, my Lord,
Under the conduct of

young

Lancaster
And Westmorland. This is the news at full.

North. For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic: and this news,
That would, had I been well, have made me sick,
Being sick, hath in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch, whose fever-weakend joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper's arms ; ev’n so my limbs,
Weaken’d with grief, being now inrage’d with grief,
Are thrice themselves. “ Hence therefore, thou nice
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel [crutch;
"Must glove this hand. And hence, thou fickiy quoil,

5 Thou

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" Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, " Which princes, feh'd with conqueft, aim to hit. “ Now bind my brows with iron, and approach “The ruggedit hour that time and fpight dare bring “ To frown upon th' enrage'd Northumberland ! " Let heav'n kifs earth! now let not nature's hand

Keep the wild food confin'd; let order die, “ And let this world no longer be a stage " To feed contention in a lingering act: “ But let one spirit of the firit-born Cain “ Reign in all boioms, that each heart being fet “ On bloody courses, the rude tcene may end, “ And darkness be the burier of the dead! [Lord!

Bard. This strained paflion doth you wrong, my Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from

your

honour.
Mort. The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health ; the which, if you give o'er
To itormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th’event of war, my noble Lord,
And summ’d th' account of chance, before you said,
let us make head: it was your presurmise,
That, in the dole of blows, your son might drop:
You knew he walk'd o'er perils, on an edge
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er :
You were advis'd, his flesh was capable
Of wounds and scars; and that his forward spirit
Would lift hin where most trade of danger ranged:
Yet did you say, Go forth. And none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
Or what hath this bold enterprile brought forth,
More than that being, which was like to be?

Bard. We all that are engaged to this loss,
Knew, that we ventur’d on fuch dang'rous seas,
That, if we wrought out life, 'twas ten 10 one:
And yet we ventur'd for the gain propos'd,
Chok'd the relpeet of likely peril fear'd;
And since we are o'er-fet, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.

Mort. 'Tis more than time; and, my moit noble Lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth,
The gentle Archbishop of York is up

With well-appointed powers. lie is a man,
Who with a double furety binds his followers.
My Lord, your son, had only but the corps,
But shadows, and the shews of men to fight.
For that same word, rebellion, did divide
The action of their bodies froin their souls;
And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seem'd on our fide : “ but for their spirits and souls,
“ This word, rebellion, it had froze them up,
“ As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop
Turns infurrection to religion ;
Suppos'd sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He's follow'd both with body and with mind:
And doth enlard his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scrap'd from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heav'n his quarrel and his caufe;
Tells them, he doth beitride a bleeding land
Gasping for life, under great Bolingbroke ;
And more, and less, do flock to follow him.

North. I knew of this before: but to speak truth,
This present grief had wip'd it from my mind.
Go in with me, and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety and revenge :
Get posts, and letters, and make friends with speed;
Never so few, nor never yet more need. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to a street in London. Enter Sir John Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword

and buckler. Fal. Sirrah, you, giant! what says the doctor to my water?

Page. He said, Sir, the water itself was a good healthy water. But for the party that own’d it, he might have more diseases than he knew for.

Fal. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolith-compounded-clay, man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath overwhelm

ed

ed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why, then I have no judgment. Thou whorson mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at my heels. I was never mann’d with an agot till now: but I will set you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel. The Juvenal, the Prince your master! whose chin is not yet fledg’d; I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on his cheek; yet he will not stick to say, his face is a faceroyal. Heav'n may finish it when it will, it is not a hair amiss yet; he may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn fixpence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever since his father was a batchelor. He may keep his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, I can assure him What said Mr. Dombledon, about the fatten for my thort cloak and flops?

Page. He said, Sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph: he would not take his bond and your's, he lik'd not the security.

Fal. Let him be damn'd like the glutton, may his tongue be hotter! a whorson Achitophel, a rascally ye-forsooth-knave, to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! the whorson-smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys at their girdles; and if a man is thorough with them in honest taking up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would put rats-bane in my mouth, as offer to stop it with security. I looked he should have sent me two and twenty yards of fatten, as I am a true knight, and he tends me security. Well, he may sleep in security, for he hath the horn of abundance. And the lightness of his wife shines through it, and yet cannot he see, though he have his own lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph?

Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your Worship a horie.

Fal. I bought him in Paul's *, and he'll buy me a * At that time the resort of idle peo; le, cheats, and knights of the post.

korse

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