XIII.

THE TWO HARRYS.

Hotspur. He shall be welcome too. Where is his

son,

The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales,

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
Bated,-like eagles having lately bathed ;
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,
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,

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

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,
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. SHAKSPERE, I Henry IV., Act iv. Sc. 1.

XIV.

PRAISE OF AN ENEMY.

Prince. In both our armies there is many a soul
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,

If once they join in trial. 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,
Το 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 should 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.

King. And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture

thee,

Albeit considerations infinite

Do make against it.-No, good Worcester, no,
We love our people well: even those we love
That are misled upon your cousin's part;
And, will they take the offer of our grace,
Both he and they and you, yea, every man,
Shall be my friend again, and I'll be his :
So tell your cousin, and bring me word
What he will do: but if he will not yield,
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
We will not now be troubled with reply:

We offer fair; take it advisedly.

SHAKSPERE, I Henry IV., Act v. Sc. 1.

XV.

A PRINCE INDEED.

Hotspur. O! 'would the quarrel lay upon our heads, And that no man might draw short breath to-day, But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, tell me, How stood his tasking? seem'd it in contempt? Vernon. No, by my soul; I never in my life Did hear a challenge urged 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.

SHAKSPERE, I Henry IV., Act v. Sc. 2.

XVI.

THE COURTEOUS VICTOR.

Hotspur. O Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my

youth!

I better brook the loss of brittle life,

Than those proud titles thou hast won of me;

They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my

flesh :

But thought's the slave of life, and life time's fool;
And time, that takes survey of all the world,
Must have a stop. O! I could prophesy,
But that the earthy and cold hand of death
Lies on my tongue: no, Percy, thou art dust,
And food for-

[Dies.

Prince. For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well,

great heart!

Ill-weaved 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