The First Part of King Henry the Fourth

As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
Useth the sparrow- did oppress our nest;
Grew, by our feeding to so great a bulk
That even our love thirst not come near your sight
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
We were enforc'd for safety sake to fly
Out of your sight and raise this present head;
Whereby we stand opposed by such means
As you yourself have forg'd against yourself
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
And violation of all faith and troth
Sworn to tis in your younger enterprise.
King. These things, indeed, you have articulate,
Proclaim'd at market crosses, read in churches,
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine colour that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
Of hurlyburly innovation.
And never yet did insurrection want
Such water colours to impaint his cause,
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pell-mell havoc and confusion.
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
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.
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.

Exit Worcester [with Vernon]

Prince. It will not be accepted, on my life.
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
Are confident against the world in arms.
King. Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
For, on their answer, will we set on them,
And God befriend us as our cause is just!

Exeunt. Manent Prince, Falstaff

Fal. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me,
so!
'Tis a point of friendship.
Prince. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship.
Say thy prayers, and farewell.
Fal. I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
Prince. Why, thou owest God a death.
Exit.
Fal. 'Tis not due yet. I would be loath to pay him before his
day.
What need I be so forward with him that calls not on me?
Well,
'tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour
prick
me off when I come on? How then? Can honor 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
that
word honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died
a
Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth be bear it? No. 'Tis
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.

Exit.

Scene II. The rebel camp