PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. 'Would they were multitudes; and on my head Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: ACT IV. A GALLANT WARRIOR. I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, And witch + the world with noble horsemanship. HOTSPUR'S IMPATIENCE FOR THE BATTLE. Let them come; They come like sacrifices in their trim, And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse, Against the bosom of the prince of Wales:. Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse. ACT V. PRINCE HENRY'S MODEST CHALLENGE. Tell your nephew, The prince of Wales doth join with all the world I do not think a braver gentleman, More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, Armour. Bewitch, charm. More daring, or more bold, is now alive, And so, I hear, he doth account me too: And will, to save the blood on either side, FALSTAFF'S CATECHISM. Well, 'tis no matter: Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word? Honour. What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning!-Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it:therefore I'll none of it: Honour is a mere escutcheon*, and so ends my catechism. LIFE DEMANDS ACTION. O gentlemen, the time of life is short; Still ending at the arrival of an hour. PRINCE HENRY'S PATHETIC SPEECH ON THE DEATH OF HOTSPUR. Brave Percy, fare thee well. Ill-weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; *Painted heraldry in funerals. But now, two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough:-This earth, that bears thee dead, Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal:- KING HENRY IV. PART II INDUCTION. RUMOUR. FROM the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth: Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. speak of peace, while covert enmity, Under the smile of safety, wounds the world: And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence; Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief, Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; And of so easy and so plain a stop, * Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, Can play upon it. ACT I. CONTENTION. Contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, POST MESSENGER. After him, came, spurring hard, A gentleman almost forspent with speed, MESSENGER WITH ILL NEWS. This man's brow, like to a title-leaf, Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, Exhausted. + An attestation of its ravage. |