MOX LIBRAEL

NEW YORK

Lady Percy, Wife to Hot-spur.

Lady Mortimer, Daughter to Glendower, and Wife to Mortimer.

Hoftefs Quickly.

Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers and Attendants.

SCENE, ENGLA N D.

The

Enter King Henry, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Weftmorland, and others.

King HENRY.

O fhaken as we are, fo wan with Care,
Find we as time for frighted peace to pant,

And breathe fhort-winded accents of new Broils
To be commenc'd in fronds a-far remote.
No more the thirsty entrance of this Soil
*Shall trempe her lips with her own children's blood:
No more fhall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs
Of hoftile paces. Thofe oppofed files,
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heav'n,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,
Did lately meet in the inteftine fhock
And furious clofe of civil butchery,

Shall now, in mutual, well-befeeming, ranks
March all one way; and be no more oppos'd
Againft acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-fheathed knife,
No more fhall cut his mafter. Therefore, friends,

* Shall damp her lips---] This Nonfenfe fhould be read, Shall trempe, i. e. moiften, and refers to thirsty, in the preceding Line : Trempe, from the French, tremper, properly fignifies the Moistness made by Rain.

As far as to the fepulchre of Chrift,

(Whofe foldier now, under whofe bleffed Cross
We are impreffed, and engag'd to fight)
Forthwith a Power of English fhall we levy;
Whofe arms were moulded in their mother's womb
To chafe thefe Pagans, in thofe holy fields.
Over whole acres walk'd thofe bleffed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter Crofs.
But this our purpofe is a twelvemonth old,
And bootlefs 'tis to tell you we will go.
Therefore, we meet not now: Then let me hear,
Of you my gentle Coufin Weftmorland,
What yefternight our Council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.

Weft. My Liege, this hafte was hot in queflion, And many limits of the Charge fet down

But yefernight: when, all athwart, there came
A Poft from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whofe worft was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Againft th' irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken;
A thousand of his people butchered,
Upon whofe dead corps there was such misuse,
Such beaftly, fhamelefs transformation,
By thofe Welfhwomen done, as may not be,
Without much fhame, re- told or spoken of.

K. Henry. It feems then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the holy Land.

West. This, matcht with other, did, my gracious

lord;

For more uneven and unwelcome news

Came from the North, and thus it did import.
On holy-rood day, the gallant Hot-fpur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon spent a fad and bloody hour:

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