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Meet and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse.—
O that Glendower were come!

Hotspur's Speech to Sir Walter Blunt before the Battle of

The king is kind; and, well we know, the king
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.
My father, and my uncle, and myself,
Did give him that same royalty he wears:
And,-when he was not six and twenty strong,
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low,


poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,—
My father gave him welcome to the shore:
And,—when he heard him swear and vow to God,
He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,
To sue his livery,* and beg his peace,
With tears of innocency and terms of zeal,—
My father, in kind heart, and pity mov'd,
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too.
Now, when the lords and barons of the realm
Perceiv'd Northumberland did lean to him,
The more and less came in with cap and knee;
Met him in boroughs, cities, villages;
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,
Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their oaths,
Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him,
Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.

He presently, as greatness knows itself,—
Steps me a little higher than his vow

Made to my father, while his blood was poor,
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg;
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform

* The delivery to him of his lands which had been confiscated.

Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees,
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth;
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep

Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further; cut me off the heads
Of all the favourites, that the absent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was personal in the Irish war.


Prince Henry's modest Challenge to Hotspur.

Tell your nephew,

The prince of Wales doth join with all the world
In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes,—
This present enterprise set off his head,-
I do not think a braver gentleman,
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young,
More daring, or more bold, is now alive,
To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
I have a truant been to chivalry;

And so I hear he doth account me too:
Yet this before my father's majesty,-
I am content, that he shall take the odds
Of his great name and estimation;
And will to save the blood on either side,
Try fortune with him in a single fight.

Falstaff's Catechism.

Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how


Can honour set to a leg? No.

Or an armı? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No.


nour 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 scutcheon, and so ends my catechism.

Vernon's Description of Prince Henry's Challenge.

No, by my soul; I never in my life
Did hear a challenge urg'd more modestly,
Unless a brother should a brother dare
To gentle exercise and proof of arms.
He gave you all the duties of a man:
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely tongue;
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle;
Making you ever better than his praise,
By still dispraising praise, valued with you :
And, which became him like a prince indeed,
He made a blushing cital of himself;

And chid his truant youth with such a grace,
As if he master'd there a double spirit

Of teaching and of learning instantly,

There did he pause; but let me tell the world,—
If he outlive the envy of this day,

England did never owe so sweet a hope,
So much misconstrued in his wantonness.

Life demands Action.

O gentlemen, the time of life is short;

To spend that shortness basely, were too long,
If life did ride upon a dial's point,

Still ending at the arrival of an hour.

Prince Henry's Speech on the Death of Hotspur.

Fare thee well, great heart!

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:
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 :-
But let my favours* hide thy mangled face :
And, even in thy behalf, I'll thank myself
For doing these fair rites of tenderness.

Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven :
Thy ignomy sleep with thee in the grave,
But not remember'd in thy epitaph !



The second part of King Henry the Fourth continues his reign from the battle of Shrewsbury till his death. One of the most prominent scenes in this play is that in which the Prince of Wales finds the crown by the side of his dying father, and places it on his own head. Another striking feature is the determination of the prince, on his father's death, to forsake the scenes of

The scarf with which he covers Hotspur.

his former revels, and to cease to associate with his old roystering companions, Falstaff and the rest. His noble conduct, too, towards the Chief Justice (who for an act of violence had committed him to prison in his profligate days), imparts great interest to the conclusion of the play.



OPEN your ears; for which of you will stop
The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?
I, 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.
I 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.



Contention, like a horse

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose,
And bears down all before him.

A Post Messenger.

After him came spurring hard,

A gentleman almost forespent with speed,
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse:

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