Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes,
	This infant warrior, in his enterprises
	Discomfited great Douglas, ta'en him once,
	Enlarged him and made a friend of him,
	To fill the mouth of deep defiance up
	And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
	And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
	The Archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
	Capitulate against us and are up.
	But wherefore do I tell these news to thee?
	Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes,
	Which art my near'st and dearest enemy?
	Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear,
	Base inclination and the start of spleen
	To fight against me under Percy's pay,
	To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns,
	To show how much thou art degenerate.

PRINCE HENRY	Do not think so; you shall not find it so:
	And God forgive them that so much have sway'd