Mal. Be this the whetstone of your sword, let grief Convert to wrath: blunt not the heart, enrage it.

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eyes,
And braggart with my tongue. But, gentle Heaven!
Cut short all intermission: front to front,

Bring thou this fiend of Scotland and myself;
Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape,
Then Heaven forgive him too!

Shakspeare.

Ex. 193. Henry IV., Northumberland, and Hotspur.

King Henry. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities,

And you have found me; for, accordingly,

You tread upon my patience: but, be sure,

I will, from henceforth, rather be myself,

Mighty, and to be feared, than my condition,

Which has been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And, therefore, lost that title of respect

Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud
North. My good lord,

Those prisoners, in your highness' name demanded,
Which Harry Percy here, at Holmedon, took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied,
As is delivered to your majesty.

Either envy therefore, or misprision,

Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hotspur. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dressed,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new-reaped,
Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumèd like a milliner;

And, 'twixt his finger and his thumb, he held
A pouncet-box, which, ever and anon,

He gave his nose, and took't away again;—
Who wherewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff: and still he smiled and talk'd ;
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly
To bring a slovenly, unhandsome corse,
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms,

T

He questioned me; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I, then, all smarting with my wounds-being galled,
To be so pestered with a popinjay,

Out of my grief, and my impatience,

Answered, neglectingly-I know not what

He should, or he should not-for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk, so like a waiting gentlewoman,

Of guns,

and drums, and wounds-God save the mark ! And telling me, 'The sovereign'st thing on earth Was spermaceti, for an inward bruise;

And that it was a great pity-so it was-
This villainous saltpetre should be digged
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,

Which many a good, tall fellow had destroyed
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier!

-This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answered indirectly, as I said;

And, I beseech you, let not his report

Come current for an accusation,

Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

North. The circumstance considered, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said,

To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

King Henry. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with proviso and exception,—

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my truth, hath wilfully betrayed
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, bold Glendower,
Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then,
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve ;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost,
To ransom home revolted Mortimer!

Hotspur. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,

But by the chance of war. To prove that true,

Needs no more but one tongue, for all those wounds,
Those mouthèd wounds, which valiantly he took,
When, on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,

In single opposition, hand to hand,

He did confound the best part of an hour,

In changing hardiment with great Glendower.

Three times they breathed, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;

Who, then, affrighted with their bloody looks,

Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base and rotten policy

Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
And never could the noble Mortimer,
Receive so many, and all willingly :

Then, let him not be slandered with revolt!

King Henry. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou beliest him! He never did encounter with Glendower.

Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth

Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer :

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me

As will displease you.-My Lord Northumberland,
We license your departure, with your son.
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

Ex. 194.

Shakspeare.

Prince Henry and Sir John Falstaff.

Prince H. Welcome, Jack: where hast thou been?

Falstaff. A plague of all cowards, I say, and a vengeance too! Marry, and amen! Give me a cup of sack, boy. Ere I lead this life long, I'll sew nether stocks, and mend them, and foot them too. A plague of all cowards! Give me a cup of sack, rogue. Is there no virtue extant?

Prince H. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Titan, that melted at the sweet tale of the sun! If thou didst, then behold that compound.

Falstaff. You rogue, here's lime in this sack, too; there is nothing but roguery to be found in villainous man: yet a coward is worse than a cup of sack with lime in it: a villainous coward! Go thy ways, old Jack; die when thou

wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a shotten herring. There live not three good men unhanged in England, and one of them is fat and grows old. A bad world I say. I would I were a weaver I could sing psalms or anything. A plague of all cowards, I say still.

Prince H. How now, woolsack! what mutter you?

Falstaff. A king's son! If I do not beat thee out of thy kingdom, with a dagger of lath, and drive all thy subjects before me like a flock of wild geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. You Prince of Wales!

Prince H. Why, what's the matter?

Falstaff. Are you not a coward? Answer me to that ;and Poins there.

Poins. Zounds! ye fat paunch, an' ye call me a coward, I'll stab thee.

Falstaff. I call thee coward! I'll see thee hanged ere I call thee coward; but I would give a thousand pounds I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders; you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! Give me them that will face me.-Give me a cup of sack; I'm a rogue if I have drunk to-day.

Prince H. O villain! thy lips are scarce wiped since thou drankest last.

Falstaff. All's one for that. A plague of all cowards, still say I.

Prince H. What's the matter?

Falstaff. What's the matter! There be four of us here have ta'en a thousand pounds this morning. Prince H. Where is it, Jack? Where is it? Falstaff. Where is it!

upon four of us.

Taken from us it is: a hundred

Prince H. What! a hundred, man?

Falstaff. I am a rogue if I were not at half-sword with a dozen of them, two hours together. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose; my buckler cut through and through; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, ecce signum. I never dealt better since I was a man! All would not do. A plague of all cowards!-Let them speak; if they speak more or less than truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness. Prince H. Speak, Sirs; How was it? Gadshill. We four set upon some dozen. Falstaff. Sixteen at least, my lord. Gadshill. And bound them.

Peto. No, no, they were not bound.

Falstaff. You rogue, they were bound every man of them; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew.

Gadshill. As we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us-

Falstaff. And unbound the rest; and then came in the others.

Prince H. What! fought ye with them all?

Falstaff. All! I know not what you call all; but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of radish; if there were not two or three-and-fifty upon poor old Jack, then am I no two-legged creature.

Prince H. Pray God, you have not murdered some of them. Falstaff. Nay; that's past praying for: I have peppered two of them; two, I am sure I have paid,-two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal,-if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face, call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward ;here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me,

Prince H. What! four? Thou saidst but two even now. Falstaff. Four, Hal; I told thee, four. These four came all afront, and mainly thrust at me. I made no more ado, but took all their seven points in my target, thus.

Prince H. Seven? Why, there were but four even now. Falstaff. In buckram ?

Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits.

Falstaff. Seven, by these hilts, or I am a villain else. Prince H. Prythee, let him alone; we shall have more

anon.

Falstaff. Dost thou hear me, Hal?

Prince H. Ay, and mark thee, too.

Falstaff. Do so, for it is worth the listening to. These nine in buckram that I told thee of

Prince H. So, two more, already.

Falstaff. Their points being broken, they began to give me ground; but I followed me close, came in, foot and hand; and, with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid.

Prince H. O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two!

Falstaff. But, as bad luck would have it, three misbegotten knaves, in Kendal-green, came at my back, and let drive at me; for, it was so dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand.

Prince H. These lies are like the father that begets themgross as a mountain, open, palpable. Why, thou clay-brained and knotty-pated fool, thou obscene, greasy tallow-keech,