| ACT IV SCENE I | The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. | |
| | Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, and DOUGLAS | |
| HOTSPUR | 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 | 5 |
| | Should go so general current through the world. | |
| | By God, I cannot flatter; I do defy | |
| | The tongues of soothers; but a braver place | |
| | In my heart's love hath no man than yourself: | |
| | Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. | 10 |
| EARL OF DOUGLAS | Thou art the king of honour: | |
| | No man so potent breathes upon the ground | |
| | But 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. | 15 |
| 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 sick | |
| | In such a rustling time? Who leads his power? | 20 |
| | Under whose government come they along? | |
| Messenger | His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. | |
| EARL OF 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 thence | 25 |
| | He was much fear'd by his physicians. | |
| EARL OF WORCESTER | 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. | |
| HOTSPUR | Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect | 30 |
| | 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 | 35 |
| | To lay so dangerous and dear a trust | |
| | On any soul removed but on his own. | |
| | Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, | |
| | That with our small conjunction we should on, | |
| | To see how fortune is disposed to us; | 40 |
| | For, as he writes, there is no quailing now. | |
| | Because the king is certainly possess'd | |
| | Of all our purposes. What say you to it? | |
| EARL OF WORCESTER | Your father's sickness is a maim to us. | |
| HOTSPUR | A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off: | 45 |
| | And yet, in faith, it is 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? | 50 |
| | 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. | |
| EARL OF DOUGLAS | 'Faith, and so we should; | 55 |
| | Where now remains a sweet reversion: | |
| | We may boldly spend upon the hope of what | |
| | Is to come in: | |
| | A comfort of retirement lives in this. | |
| HOTSPUR | A rendezvous, a home to fly unto. | 60 |
| | If that the devil and mischance look big | |
| | Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. | |
| EARL OF WORCESTER | But yet I would your father had been here. | |
| | The quality and hair of our attempt | |
| | Brooks no division: it will be thought | 65 |
| | 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 | 70 |
| | 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: | 75 |
| | This absence of your father's draws a curtain, | |
| | That shows the ignorant a kind of fear | |
| | Before not dreamt of. | |
| HOTSPUR | You strain too far. | |
| | I rather of his absence make this use: | 80 |
| | It lends a 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 a kingdom, with his help | 85 |
| | We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. | |
| | Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. | |
| EARL OF DOUGLAS | As heart can think: there is not such a word | |
| | Spoke of in Scotland as this term of fear. | |
| | Enter SIR RICHARD VERNON | |
| HOTSPUR | My cousin Vernon, welcome, by my soul. | 90 |
| 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'd, | 95 |
| | The 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, | 100 |
| | And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside, | |
| | And bid it pass? | |
| VERNON | All furnish'd, all in arms; | |
| | All plumed like estridges that with the wind | |
| | Baited like eagles having lately bathed; | 105 |
| | 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, | 110 |
| | His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd | |
| | Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, | |
| | And vaulted with such ease into his seat, | |
| | As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, | |
| | To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus | 115 |
| | 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 war | 120 |
| | All hot and bleeding will we offer them: | |
| | 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 taste my horse, | 125 |
| | Who is to bear me 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. | |
| | O that Glendower were come! | 130 |
| VERNON | There is more news: | |
| | I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, | |
| | He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. | |
| EARL OF DOUGLAS | That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. | |
| WORCESTER | Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. | 135 |
| 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 | 140 |
| | Come, let us take a muster speedily: | |
| | Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. | |
| EARL OF DOUGLAS | Talk not of dying: I am out of fear | |
| | Of death or death's hand for this one-half year. | |
| | Exeunt | |