P. Hen. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee:-The money is paid back again. Fal. O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labour. P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, and may do any thing. Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou doest, and do it with unwashed hands too. Bard. Do, my lord. P. Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. Fal. I would, it had been of horse. Where shall I find one that can steal well? O for a fine thief, of the age of two-and-twenty, or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I praise them. P. Hen. Bardolph, Bard. My lord. P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John of Lancaster, My brother John; this to my lord of Westmoreland.— Go, Poins, to horse, to horse; for thou, and I, Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time.- Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall, At two o'clock i'the afternoon: There shalt thou know thy charge; and there receive Money, and order for their furniture. The land is burning; Percy stands on high; And either they, or we, must lower lie. [Exeunt Prince, Poins, and Bardolph. Fal. Rare words! brave world!-Hostess, my breakfast; come: O, I could wish, this tavern were my drum! [Exit. SCENE 1. The Rebel Camp, near SHREWSBURY. The tongues of smoothers; but a braver place No man so potent breathes upon the ground, Hot. Do so, and 'tis well: Enter a Messenger, with Letters. What letters hast thou there?-I can but thank you. Mess. These letters come from your father, Hot. Letters from him! why comes he not himself? Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he's grievous sick. Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick, In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I pr'ythee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth; And at the time of my departure thence, He was much fear'd by his physicians. Wor. 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. Hot. Sick now! droop now! this sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise; "Tis catching hither, even to our camp.- Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? Of all our fortunes. Doug. 'Faith, and so we should; Where now remains a sweet reversion: We may boldly spend upon the hope of what A comfort of retirement lives in this. Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. Wor. But yet, I would your father had been here; This absence of your father's draws a curtain, Hot. You strain too far. I, rather, of his absence make this use;- Than if the earl were here: for men must think, Enter SIR RICHARD VERNON. Hot. My cousin Vernon! welcome, by my soul. Ver. Pray God, my news be worth a welcome, lord. The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince John. Hot. No harm: What more? Ver. The king himself in person is set forth, Or hitherwards intended speedily, With strong and mighty preparation. Hot. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, The nimble-footed mad-cap prince of Wales, And his comrades, that daff'd the world aside, And bid it pass? And further, I have learn'd, Ver. And witch the world with noble horsemanship. Hot. No more, no more; worse than the sun in March, And yet not ours:-Come, let me take my horse, 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.- Ver. There is more news: I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his power this fourteen days. Doug. That's the worst tidings that I hear of yet. E |