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herald's coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth,

stol'n from my host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose innkeeper

of Daventry. But that's all one; they'll find linen enough on every hedge.

Enter the Prince and the Lord of Westmoreland.

Prince. How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?

Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in

Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy.

I

thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

West. Faith, Sir John, 'tis more than time that I were there, and

you too; but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell

you, looks for us all. We must away all, to-night.

Fal. Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

Prince. I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already

made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after?

Fal. Mine, Hal, mine.

Prince. I did never see such pitiful rascals.

Fal. Tut, tut! good enough to toss; food for powder, food for

powder. They'll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man,

mortal men, mortal men.

West. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and

bare-

too beggarly.

Fal. Faith, for their poverty, I know, not where they had that; and

for their bareness, I am surd they never learn'd that of me.

Prince. No, I'll be sworn, unless you call three fingers on the

ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy 's already in the field.

Exit.

Fal. What, is the King encamp'd?

West. He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long.

[Exit.]

Fal. Well,

To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast

Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. Exit.

Scene III. The rebel camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, Vernon.

Hot. We'll fight with him to-night.

Wor. It may not be.

Doug. You give him then advantage.

Ver. Not a whit.

Hot. Why say you so? Looks he no for supply?

Ver. So do we.

Hot. His is certain, ours 's doubtful.

Wor. Good cousin, be advis'd; stir not to-night.

Ver. Do not, my lord.

Doug. You do not counsel well.

You speak it out of fear and cold heart.

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life-

And I dare well maintain it with my life-

If well-respected honour bid me on

I hold as little counsel with weak fear

As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives.

Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle

Which of us fears.

Doug. Yea, or to-night.

Ver. Content.

Hot. To-night, say I.

Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much,

Being men of such great leading as you are,

That you foresee not what impediments

Drag back our expedition. Certain horse

Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up.

Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day;

And now their pride and mettle is asleep,

Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,

That not a horse is half the half of himself.

Hot. So are the horses of the enemy,

In general journey-bated and brought low.

The better part of ours are full of rest.

Wor. The number of the King exceedeth ours.

For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

The trumpet sounds a parley.

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 even those some

Envy your great deservings and good name,

Because you are not of our quality,

But stand against us like an enemy.

Blunt. And God defend but still I should stand so,

So long as out of limit and true rule

You stand against anointed majesty!

But to my charge. The King hath sent to know

The nature of your griefs; and whereupon

You conjure from the breast of civil peace

Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land

Audacious cruelty. If that the King

Have any way your good deserts forgot,

Which he confesseth to be manifold,

He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed

You shall have your desires with interest,

And pardon absolute for yourself