The King's Camp near Shrewsbury.
 Enter the KING, PRINCE OF WALES, Lord John of LANCASTER,
 SIR WALTER BLUNT, and FALSTAFF.

King Henry	How bloodily the sun begins to peer
	Above yon bulky hill! The day looks pale
	At his distemp'rature.

Prince Henry								The southern wind
	Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
	And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
	Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day.

King Henry	Then with the losers let it sympathize,
	For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
												[The trumpet sounds.

                       Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.

	How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'Tis not well
	That you and I should meet upon such terms
	As now we meet. You have deceived our trust,
	And made us doff our easy robes of peace
	To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
	This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
	What say you to it? Will you again unknit
	This churlish knot of all-abhorrd war,
	And move in that obedient orb again
	Where you did give a fair and natural light,
	And be no more an exhaled meteor,
	A prodigy of fear, and a portent
	Of broachd mischief to the unborn times?

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

King Henry	You have not sought it! How comes it then?

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

Prince Henry	Peace, chewet, peace!

Worcester	It pleased your majesty to turn your looks
	Of favour from myself and all our house,
	And yet I must remember you, my lord,
	We were the first and dearest of your friends.
	For you my staff of office did I break
	In Richard's time, and posted day and night
	To meet you on the way and kiss your hand
	When yet you were in place and in account
	Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
	It was myself, my brother, and his son
	That brought you home and boldly did outdare
	The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
	And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
	That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state,
	Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
	The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
	To this we swore our aid; but in short space
	It rained down fortune show'ring on your head,
	And such a flood of greatness fell on you,
	What with our help, what with the absent king,
	What with the injuries of a wanton time,
	The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
	And the contrarious winds that held the king
	So long in his unlucky Irish wars
	That all in England did repute him dead;
	And from this swarm of fair advantages
	You took occasion to be quickly wooed
	To gripe the general sway into your hand,
	Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster,
	And, being fed by us, you used us so
	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 durst not come near your sight
	For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
	We were enforced for safety sake to fly
	Out of your sight, and raise this present head,
	Whereby we stand opposd by such means
	As you yourself have forged against yourself
	By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
	And violation of all faith and troth
	Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

King Henry	These things indeed you have articulate,
	Proclaimed 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 hurly-burly 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 Henry	In both your 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 Henry	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.
												[Exeunt WORCESTER and VERNON.

Prince Henry	It will not be accepted, on my life.
	The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
	Are confident against the world in arms.

King Henry	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 all but the PRINCE and FALSTAFF.

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

Prince Henry	Nothing but a Colossus can do thee that friendship. Say 
	thy prayers, and farewell.

Falstaff	I would 'twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.

Prince Henry	Why, thou owest God a death.
												[Exit.

Falstaff	'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 
	honour 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 in that word 
	'honour'? What is that 'honour'? Air. A trim reckoning! 
	Who hath it? He that died a-Wednesday. Doth he feel it? 
	No. Doth he hear 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.
