1    How bloodily the sun begins to peer
2    Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale
3    At his distemperature.

4    The southern wind
5    Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
6    And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
7    Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.

8    Then with the losers let it sympathize,
9    For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
The trumpet sounds
Enter WORCESTER and VERNON
10   How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'tis not well
11   That you and I should meet upon such terms
12   As now we meet. You have deceived our trust,
13   And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
14   To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
15   This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
16   What say you to it? will you again unknit
17   This curlish knot of all-abhorred war?
18   And move in that obedient orb again
19   Where you did give a fair and natural light,
20   And be no more an exhaled meteor,
21   A prodigy of fear and a portent
22   Of broached mischief to the unborn times?

23   Hear me, my liege:
24   For mine own part, I could be well content
25   To entertain the lag-end of my life
26   With quiet hours; for I do protest,
27   I have not sought the day of this dislike.

28   You have not sought it! how comes it, then?

29   Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

30   Peace, chewet, peace!

31   It pleased your majesty to turn your looks
32   Of favour from myself and all our house;
33   And yet I must remember you, my lord,
34   We were the first and dearest of your friends.
35   For you my staff of office did I break
36   In Richard's time; and posted day and night
37   to meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
38   When yet you were in place and in account
39   Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
40   It was myself, my brother and his son,
41   That brought you home and boldly did outdare
42   The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
43   And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
44   That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
45   Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
46   The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
47   To this we swore our aid. But in short space
48   It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
49   And such a flood of greatness fell on you,
50   What with our help, what with the absent king,
51   What with the injuries of a wanton time,
52   The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
53   And the contrarious winds that held the king
54   So long in his unlucky Irish wars
55   That all in England did repute him dead:
56   And from this swarm of fair advantages
57   You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
58   To gripe the general sway into your hand;
59   Forget your oath to us at Doncaster;
60   And being fed by us you used us so
61   As that ungentle hull, the cuckoo's bird,
62   Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest;
63   Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
64   That even our love durst not come near your sight
65   For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
66   We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly
67   Out of sight and raise this present head;
68   Whereby we stand opposed by such means
69   As you yourself have forged against yourself
70   By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
71   And violation of all faith and troth
72   Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

73   These things indeed you have articulate,
74   Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches,
75   To face the garment of rebellion
76   With some fine colour that may please the eye
77   Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
78   Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
79   Of hurlyburly innovation:
80   And never yet did insurrection want
81   Such water-colours to impaint his cause;
82   Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
83   Of pellmell havoc and confusion.

84   In both your armies there is many a soul
85   Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
86   If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
87   The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
88   In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes,
89   This present enterprise set off his head,
90   I do not think a braver gentleman,
91   More active-valiant or more valiant-young,
92   More daring or more bold, is now alive
93   To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
94   For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
95   I have a truant been to chivalry;
96   And so I hear he doth account me too;
97   Yet this before my father's majesty--
98   I am content that he shall take the odds
99   Of his great name and estimation,
100  And will, to save the blood on either side,
101  Try fortune with him in a single fight.

102  And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
103  Albeit considerations infinite
104  Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no,
105  We love our people well; even those we love
106  That are misled upon your cousin's part;
107  And, will they take the offer of our grace,
108  Both he and they and you, every man
109  Shall be my friend again and I'll be his:
110  So tell your cousin, and bring me word
111  What he will do: but if he will not yield,
112  Rebuke and dread correction wait on us
113  And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
114  We will not now be troubled with reply:
115  We offer fair; take it advisedly.

116  It will not be accepted, on my life:
117  The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
118  Are confident against the world in arms.

119  Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
120  For, on their answer, will we set on them:
121  And God befriend us, as our cause is just!

122  Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride
123  me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

124  Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
125  Say thy prayers, and farewell.

126  I would 'twere bed-time, Hal, and all well.

127  Why, thou owest God a death.

128  'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before
129  his day. What need I be so forward with him that
130  calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks
131  me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I
132  come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or
133  an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no.
134  Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is
135  honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what
136  is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it?
137  he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no.
138  Doth he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then. Yea,
139  to the dead. But will it not live with the living?
140  no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore
141  I'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so
142  ends my catechism.