Cam. Nay, but the ftag which we defire to strike,
Lives not in Cowling: if you will confent,
And go with us, we'll bring you to a forest
Where runs a lufty herd; among the which
There is a ftag fuperior to the reft,

A ftately beaft, that, when his fellows run,
He leads the race, and beats the fullen earth,
As though he fcorn'd it with his trampling hoofs;
Aloft he bears his head, and with his breast,
Like a huge bulwark, counter-checks the wind:
And, when he ftandeth ftill, he stretcheth forth
His proud ambitious neck, as if he meant.
To wound the firmament with forked horns.
Cob. 'Tis pity fuch a goodly beast should die.
Cam. Not fo, fir John; for he is tyrannous,
And gores the other deer, and will not keep
Within the limits are appointed him.,

Of late he's broke into a feveral,

Which doth belong to me, and there he fpoils
Both corn and pafture. Two of his wild race,
Alike for stealth and covetous encroaching,
Already are remov'd; if he were dead,

I should not only be fecure from hurt,
But with his body make a royal feast.

Scroope. How fay you then? will you first hunt with us?

Cob. 'Faith, lords, I like the paftime: where's the place?

Cam. Perufe this writing, it will fhew you all, And what occafion we have for the sport.

[Presents a paper. Cob. [Reads.] Call ye this hunting, my lords ? Is

this the ftag

You fain would chafe, Harry, our most dread king?

-he's broke into a feveral,] See an explanation of this term in vol. ii, p. 407. edit. 1778. MALONE,

So we may make a banquet for the devil;
And, in the stead of wholsome meat, prepare
A difh of poifon to confound ourselves.

Cam. Why fo, lord Cobham? See you not our
claim?

And how imperiously he holds the crown?
Scroope. Befides, you know yourself is in difgrace,
Held as a recreant, and purfu'd to death.
This will defend you from your enemies,
And stablish your religion through the land.
Cob. Notorious treafon! yet I will conceal
My fecret thoughts, to found the depth of it. [Afide.
My lord of Cambridge, I do fee your claim,
And what good may redound unto the land,
By profecuting of this enterprize.

But where are men? where's power and furniture
To order fuch an action? We are weak;
Harry, you know, is a mighty potentate.

Cam. Tut, we are ftrong enough; you are belov'd, And many will be glad to follow you;

We are the like, and fome will follow us :
Nay, there is hope from France: here's an ambaf-
fador

That promifeth both men and money too.
The commons likewife, as we hear, pretend
A fudden tumult; we will join with them.

Cob. Some likelihood, I muft confefs, to speed:

7 And how imperiously he holds the crown] I fufpect the author wrote-injuriously. The plea fet up by thefe infurgents, was, not Henry's arbitrary exercife of the regal power, but his want of title to the crown. All the copies, however, concur in the prefent reading; which, as it is intelligible, I have not disturbed.

MALONE.

We are the like,-] The quarto reads -We are the light. The reading of the text is that of the folio 1664. MALONE. 9 The commons likewife, as we hear, pretend

A fudden tumult;-] It has been already obferved that pretend and intend were formerly confidered as fynonymous."

MALONE.

But

But how fhall I believe this in plain truth?
You are, my lords, fuch men as live in court,
And have been highly favour'd of the king,
Especially lord Scroope, whom oftentimes
He maketh choice of for his bed-fellow'.
And you, lord Grey, are of his privy-council:
Is not this a train laid to entrap my life?

Cam. Then perifh may my foul! What, think you fo?

Scroope. We'll fwear to you.

Grey. Or take the facrament.

Cob. Nay, you are noblemen, and I imagine, As you are honourable by birth, and blood, So you will be in heart, in thought, in word. I crave no other teftimony but this: That you would all fubfcribe, and fet your hands Unto this writing which you gave to me. Cam. With all our hearts: Who hath any pen and

ink?

Scroope. My pocket fhould have one : O, here it is. Cam. Give it me, lord Scroope. There is my name. Scroope. And there is my name,

Grey. And mine.

Cob. Sir, let me crave

That you would likewife write your name with theirs, For confirmation of your master's words,

The king of France.

Char. That will I, noble lord.

Cob. So, now this action is well knit together, And I am for you: where's our meeting, lords? Cam. Here, if you pleafe, the tenth of July next.

lord Scroope, whom oftentimes

He maketh choice of for his bed-fellow.] See notes on King Henry V. last edit. vol. vi. p. 42. STEEVENS.

*And you, lord Grey,-] Grey was not a peer. The author probably thought himself at liberty to give him this title, (which happens to fuit the metre,) as a member of the privy-council.

X 3

MALONE.

Cob

Cob. In Kent? agreed. Now let us in to fupper, I hope your honours will not away to night. Cam. Yes, prefently, for I have far to ride, About foliciting of other friends.

Scroope. And we would not be abfent from the court, Left thereby grow fufpicion in the king.

Cob. Yet taste a cup of wine before ye go.

Cam. Not now, my lord, we thank you; fo farewell.

[Exeunt Scroope, Grey, Cambridge, and Chartres. Cob. Farewel, my noble lords.-My noble lords! My noble villains, base confpirators!

How can they look his highnefs in the face,
Whom they fo closely study to betray?

But I'll not fleep until I make it known:

This head fhall not be burthen'd with fuch thoughts, Nor in this heart will I conceal a deed

Of fuch impiety against my king.

Madam, how now?

Enter lady Cobham, lord Powis, lady Powis, and Harpool.
L. Cob. You're welcome home, my lord;
Why feem you fo unquiet in your looks?
What hath befall'n you that disturbs your mind?
L. Pow. Bad news, I am afraid, touching my
hufband.

Cob. Madam, not fo; there is your husband's par-
don:

Long may ye live, each joy unto the other.

L. Pow. So great a kindness, as I know not how To make reply;-my fenfe is quite confounded. Cob. Let that alone; and, madam, stay me not, For I must back unto the court again, With all the speed I can: Harpool, my horfe. L. Cob. So foon my lord? what, will you ride all night?

Cob. All night or day; it must be fo, sweet wife, Urge me not why, or what my business is,

But

But get you in.-Lord Powis, bear with me;
And, madam, think your welcome ne'er the worse;
My houfe is at your ufe. Harpool, away.

Har. Shall I attend your lordship to the court?
Cob. Yea, fir; your gelding mount you prefently.
[Exit Cobham.
L. Cob. I prithee, Harpool, look unto thy lord;
I do not like this fudden pofting back. [Exit Harpool.
Pow. Some earnest business is a-foot belike;
Whate'er it be, pray God be his good guide.

L. Pow. Amen, that hath fo highly us beftead. L. Cob. Come, madam, and my lord, we'll hope the best;

You fhall not into Wales till he return.

Pow. Though great occafion be we should depart, Yet, madam, will we stay to be refolv'd Of this unlook'd-for doubtful accident.

[Exeunt.

Mur. Come, my hearts of flint, modeftly, decently, foberly, and handfomely; no man afore his leader: follow your master, your captain, your knight that fhall be, for the honour of meal-men, millers, and malt-men. Dun is the moufe 3. Dick and Tom, for the credit of Dunftable ding down the enemy tomorrow. Ye shall not come into the field like beggars. Where be Leonard and Lawrence, my two loaders? Lord have mercy upon us, what a world is this! I would give a couple of fhillings for a dozen

Enter Murley and his followers.] The direction in the old copy is-Enter Murley and his men, prepared in fome filthy order for war. MALONE.

3

Dun is the moufe.] The fame phrafe occurs in Romeo and Juliet. See vol. x. p. 34. edit. 1778. MALONE.