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then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they

shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by

our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the

wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and,

sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our

noted outward garments.

Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred

cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight

longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of

this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same fat

rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least,

he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he

endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary

and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell.

Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit.

Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold

The unyok'd humour of your idleness.

Yet herein will I imitate the sun,

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds

To smother up his beauty from the world,

That, when he please again to lie himself,

Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at

By breaking through the foul and ugly mists

Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.

If all the year were playing holidays,

To sport would be as tedious as to work;

But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

So, when this loose behaviour I throw off

And pay the debt I never promised,

By how much better than my word I am,

By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;

And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,

My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,

Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes

Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

I'll so offend to make offence a skill,

Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit.

Scene III. London. The Palace.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, with others.

King. My blood hath been too cold and temperate,

Unapt to stir at these indignities,

And you have found me, for accordingly

You tread upon my patience; but be sure

I will from henceforth rather be myself,

Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition,

Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,

And therefore lost that title of respect

Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud.

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves

The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it-

And that same greatness too which our own hands

Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord-

King. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see

Danger and disobedience in thine eye.

O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,

And majesty might never yet endure

The moody frontier of a servant brow.

Tou have good leave to leave us. When we need

'Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.

Exit Worcester.

You were about to speak.

North. Yea, my good lord.

Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded

Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,

Were, as he says, not with such strength denied

As is delivered to your Majesty.

Either envy, therefore, or misprision

Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

But I remember, when the fight was done,

When I was dry with rage and extreme toll,

Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,

Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd,

Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd

Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home.

He was perfumed like a milliner,

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held

A pouncet box, which ever and anon

He gave his nose, and took't away again;

Who therewith angry, when it next came there,

Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd;

And as the soldiers