Act IVScene I
The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury
Enter Hotspur, Worcester and Douglas.
Hotspur
Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truthIn this fine age were not thought flattery,Such attribution should the Douglas haveAs not a soldier of this season’s stampShould go so general current through the world.By God, I cannot flatter, I do defyThe tongues of soothers, but a braver placeIn my heart’s love hath no man than yourself.Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord.
Douglas
Thou art the king of honour.No man so potent breathes upon the groundBut I will beard him.
Hotspur
Do so, and ’tis well.
Enter a Messenger with letters.
What letters hast thou there? I can but thank you.
Messenger
These letters come from your father.
Hotspur
Letters from him! Why comes he not himself?
Messenger
He cannot come, my lord, he is grievous sick.
Hotspur
Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sickIn such a justling time? Who leads his power?Under whose government come they along?
Messenger
His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord.
Worcester
I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed?
Messenger
He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth,And at the time of my departure thenceHe was much fear’d by his physicians.
Worcester
I would the state of time had first been wholeEre he by sickness had been visited.His health was never better worth than now.
Hotspur
Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infectThe 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 notSo soon be drawn, nor did he think it meetTo lay so dangerous and dear a trustOn any soul removed but on his own.Yet doth he give us bold advertisementThat with our small conjunction we should on,To see how fortune is disposed to us;For, as he writes, there is no quailing now,Because the King is certainly possess’dOf all our purposes. What say you to it?
Worcester
Your father’s sickness is a maim to us.
Hotspur
A perilous gash, a very limb lopp’d off—And yet, in faith, it is not! His present wantSeems more than we shall find it. Were it goodTo set the exact wealth of all our statesAll at one cast? To set so rich a mainOn the nice hazard of one doubtful hour?It were not good, for therein should we readThe very bottom and the soul of hope,The very list, the very utmost boundOf all our fortunes.
Douglas
Faith, and so we should, where now remainsA sweet reversion. We may boldly spendUpon the hope of what is to come in.A comfort of retirement lives in this.
Hotspur
A rendezvous, a home to fly unto,If that the devil and mischance look bigUpon the maidenhead of our affairs.
Worcester
But yet I would your father had been here.The quality and hair of our attemptBrooks no division. It will be thoughtBy some that know not why he is away,That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislikeOf our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence.And think how such an apprehensionMay turn the tide of fearful faction,And breed a kind of question in our cause.For well you know we of the off’ring sideMust keep aloof from strict arbitrement,And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whenceThe eye of reason may pry in upon us.This absence of your father’s draws a curtainThat shows the ignorant a kind of fearBefore not dreamt of.
Hotspur
You strain too far.I rather of his absence make this use:It lends a lustre and more great opinion,A larger dare to our great enterprise,Than if the Earl were here; for men must thinkIf we without his help can make a headTo push against the kingdom, with his helpWe shall o’erturn it topsy-turvy down.Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole.
Douglas
As heart can think. There is not such a wordSpoke in Scotland as this term of fear.
Enter Sir Richard Vernon.
Hotspur
My cousin Vernon! Welcome, by my soul.
Vernon
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord.The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,Is marching hitherwards, with him Prince John.
Hotspur
No harm, what more?
Vernon
And further, I have learn’dThe King himself in person is set forth,Or hitherwards intended speedily,With strong and mighty preparation.
Hotspur
He shall be welcome too. Where is his son,The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,And his comrades, that daffed the world asideAnd bid it pass?
Vernon
All furnish’d, all in arms;All plumed like estridges that with the windBated like eagles having lately bathed,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 his beaver on,His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm’d,Rise from the ground like feather’d Mercury,And vaulted with such ease into his seatAs if an angel dropp’d down from the clouds,To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Hotspur
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-eyed maid of smoky warAll hot and bleeding will we offer them.The mailed Mars shall on his altar sitUp to the ears in blood. I am on fireTo hear this rich reprisal is so nigh,And yet not ours. Come, let me taste my horse,Who is to bear me like a thunderboltAgainst 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.O, that Glendower were come!
Vernon
There is more news.I learn’d in Worcester, as I rode along,He cannot draw his power this fourteen days.
Douglas
That’s the worst tidings that I hear of yet.
Worcester
Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound.
Hotspur
What may the King’s whole battle reach unto?
Vernon
To thirty thousand.
Hotspur
Forty let it be.My father and Glendower being both away,The powers of us may serve so great a day.Come, let us take a muster speedily.Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily.
Douglas
Talk not of dying. I am out of fearOf death or death’s hand for this one half year.
Exeunt.