<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> ACT IV. Scene I. The rebel camp near Shrewsbury. Enter Harry Hotspur, Worcester, and Douglas. Hot. Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth In this fine age were not thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have As not a soldier of this season's stamp Should go so general current through the world. By God, I cannot flatter, I defy The tongues of soothers! but a braver place In my heart's love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. Doug. Thou art the king of honour. No man so potent breathes upon the ground But I will beard him. Enter one with letters. Hot. Do so, and 'tis well.- What letters hast thou there?- I can but thank you. Messenger. These letters come from your father. Hot. Letters from him? Why comes he not himself? Mess. He cannot come, my lord; he is grievous sick. Hot. Zounds! how has he the leisure to be sick In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? Mess. His letters bears his mind, not I, my lord. Wor. I prithee tell me, doth he keep his bed? Mess. He did, my lord, four days ere I set forth, And at the time of my departure thence He was much fear'd by his physicians. Wor. I would the state of time had first been whole Ere he by sickness had been visited. His health was never better worth than now. Hot. Sick now? droop now? This sickness doth infect The very lifeblood of our enterprise. 'Tis catching hither, even to our camp. He writes me here that inward sickness- And that his friends by deputation could not So soon be drawn; no did he think it meet To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On any soul remov'd but on his own. Yet doth he give us bold advertisement, That with our small conjunction we should on, To see how fortune is dispos'd to us; For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, Because the King is certainly possess'd Of all our purposes. What say you to it? Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us. Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'd off. And yet, in faith, it is not! His present want Seems more than we shall find it. Were it good To set the exact wealth of all our states All at one cast? to set so rich a man On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour? It were not good; for therein should we read The very bottom and the soul of hope,