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twg_000000017400 | a peppercorn, a brewers horse. The inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. BARDOLPH. Sir John, you are so fretful, you cannot live long. FALSTAFF. Why, there is it. Come, sing me a song, make me merry. I was as virtuously given as a gentleman need to be, virtuous enough; swore little; diced not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017401 | above seven timesa week; went to a bawdy house not above once in a quarterin an hour; paid money that I borrowedthree or four times; lived well and in good compass; and now I live out of all order, out of all compass. BARDOLPH. Why, you are so fat, Sir John, that you must needs be out of all compass, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017402 | out of all reasonable compass, Sir John. FALSTAFF. Do thou amend thy face, and Ill amend my life. Thou art our admiral, thou bearest the lantern in the poop, but tis in the nose of thee. Thou art the Knight of the Burning Lamp. BARDOLPH. Why, Sir John, my face does you no harm. FALSTAFF. No, Ill be sworn, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017403 | make as good use of it as many a man doth of a deaths-head or a _memento mori_. I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire, and Dives that lived in purple, for there he is in his robes, burning, burning. If thou wert any way given to virtue, I would swear by thy face. My oath should | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017404 | be, By this fire, thats Gods angel. But thou art altogether given over; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy face, the son of utter darkness. When thou ranst up Gads Hill in the night to catch my horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an _ignis fatuus_ or a ball of wildfire, theres no purchase | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017405 | in money. O, thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk me would have bought me lights as good cheap at the dearest chandlers in Europe. I have maintained that salamander of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017406 | yours with fire any time this two-and-thirty years, God reward me for it! BARDOLPH. Sblood, I would my face were in your belly! FALSTAFF. God-a-mercy! so should I be sure to be heartburnt. Enter the Hostess. How now, Dame Partlet the hen, have you enquired yet who picked my pocket? HOSTESS. Why, Sir John, what do you think, Sir John, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017407 | do you think I keep thieves in my house? I have searched, I have enquired, so has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, servant by servant. The tithe of a hair was never lost in my house before. FALSTAFF. Ye lie, hostess. Bardolph was shaved and lost many a hair, and Ill be sworn my pocket was picked. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017408 | Go to, you are a woman, go. HOSTESS. Who, I? No; I defy thee: Gods light, I was never called so in mine own house before. FALSTAFF. Go to, I know you well enough. HOSTESS. No, Sir John, you do not know me, Sir John. I know you, Sir John, you owe me money, Sir John, and now you pick | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017409 | a quarrel to beguile me of it. I bought you a dozen of shirts to your back. FALSTAFF. Dowlas, filthy dowlas. I have given them away to bakers wives; and they have made bolters of them. HOSTESS. Now, as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here besides, Sir John, for your diet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017410 | and by-drinkings, and money lent you, four-and-twenty pound. FALSTAFF. He had his part of it, let him pay. HOSTESS. He? Alas, he is poor, he hath nothing. FALSTAFF. How? Poor? Look upon his face. What call you rich? Let them coin his nose, let them coin his cheeks. Ill not pay a denier. What, will you make a younker of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017411 | me? Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn but I shall have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal-ring of my grandfathers worth forty mark. HOSTESS. O Jesu, I have heard the Prince tell him, I know not how oft, that that ring was copper. FALSTAFF. How? The Prince is a Jack, a sneak-up. Sblood, an he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017412 | were here, I would cudgel him like a dog if he would say so. Enter Prince Henry with Peto, marching. Falstaff meets him, playing on his truncheon like a fife. How now, lad? Is the wind in that door, ifaith? Must we all march? BARDOLPH. Yea, two and two, Newgate fashion. HOSTESS. My lord, I pray you, hear me. PRINCE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017413 | What sayst thou, Mistress Quickly? How doth thy husband? I love him well; he is an honest man. HOSTESS. Good my lord, hear me. FALSTAFF. Prithee, let her alone, and list to me. PRINCE. What sayst thou, Jack? FALSTAFF. The other night I fell asleep here, behind the arras, and had my pocket picked. This house is turned bawdy-house; they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017414 | pick pockets. PRINCE. What didst thou lose, Jack? FALSTAFF. Wilt thou believe me, Hal, three or four bonds of forty pound apiece and a seal-ring of my grandfathers. PRINCE. A trifle, some eightpenny matter. HOSTESS. So I told him, my lord, and I said I heard your Grace say so. And, my lord, he speaks most vilely of you, like | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017415 | a foul-mouthed man as he is, and said he would cudgel you. PRINCE. What! he did not? HOSTESS. Theres neither faith, truth, nor womanhood in me else. FALSTAFF. Theres no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune, nor no more truth in thee than in a drawn fox; and, for woman-hood, Maid Marian may be the deputys wife | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017416 | of the ward to thee. Go, you thing, go. HOSTESS. Say, what thing, what thing? FALSTAFF. What thing? Why, a thing to thank God on. HOSTESS. I am no thing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it! I am an honest mans wife, and, setting thy knighthood aside, thou art a knave to call me so. FALSTAFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017417 | Setting thy womanhood aside, thou art a beast to say otherwise. HOSTESS. Say, what beast, thou knave, thou? FALSTAFF. What beast? Why, an otter. PRINCE. An otter, Sir John? Why an otter? FALSTAFF. Why, shes neither fish nor flesh; a man knows not where to have her. HOSTESS. Thou art an unjust man in saying so, thou or any man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017418 | knows where to have me, thou knave, thou. PRINCE. Thou sayst true, hostess, and he slanders thee most grossly. HOSTESS. So he doth you, my lord, and said this other day you ought him a thousand pound. PRINCE. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand pound? FALSTAFF. A thousand pound, Hal? A million. Thy love is worth a million; thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017419 | owest me thy love. HOSTESS. Nay, my lord, he calld you Jack, and said he would cudgel you. FALSTAFF. Did I, Bardolph? BARDOLPH. Indeed, Sir John, you said so. FALSTAFF. Yea, if he said my ring was copper. PRINCE. I say tis copper. Darest thou be as good as thy word now? FALSTAFF. Why, Hal, thou knowest, as thou art | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017420 | but man, I dare, but as thou art prince, I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the lions whelp. PRINCE. And why not as the lion? FALSTAFF. The King himself is to be feared as the lion. Dost thou think Ill fear thee as I fear thy father? Nay, an I do, I pray God my girdle break. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017421 | PRINCE. O, if it should, how would thy guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, theres no room for faith, truth, nor honesty in this bosom of thine; it is all filled up with midriff. Charge an honest woman with picking thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impudent, embossed rascal, if there were anything in thy pocket but tavern reckonings, memorandums | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017422 | of bawdy houses, and one poor pennyworth of sugar-candy to make thee long-winded, if thy pocket were enriched with any other injuries but these, I am a villain. And yet you will stand to it, you will not pocket up wrong. Art thou not ashamed! FALSTAFF. Dost thou hear, Hal? Thou knowest in the state of innocency Adam fell, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017423 | what should poor Jack Falstaff do in the days of villainy? Thou seest I have more flesh than another man and therefore more frailty. You confess, then, you picked my pocket? PRINCE. It appears so by the story. FALSTAFF. Hostess, I forgive thee. Go make ready breakfast, love thy husband, look to thy servants, cherish thy guests. Thou shalt find | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017424 | me tractable to any honest reason. Thou seest I am pacified still. Nay, prithee, be gone. [_Exit Hostess._] Now, Hal, to the news at court. For the robbery, lad, how is that answered? PRINCE. O, my sweet beef, I must still be good angel to thee. The money is paid back again. FALSTAFF. O, I do not like that paying | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017425 | back, tis a double labour. PRINCE. I am good friends with my father, and may do anything. FALSTAFF. Rob me the exchequer the first thing thou dost, and do it with unwashed hands too. BARDOLPH. Do, my lord. PRINCE. I have procured thee, Jack, a charge of foot. FALSTAFF. I would it had been of horse. Where shall I find | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017426 | one that can steal well? O, for a fine thief, of the age of two-and-twenty or thereabouts! I am heinously unprovided. Well, God be thanked for these rebels; they offend none but the virtuous. I laud them, I praise them. PRINCE. Bardolph! BARDOLPH. My lord? PRINCE. Go bear this letter to Lord John of Lancaster, To my brother John; this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017427 | to my Lord of Westmoreland. [_Exit Bardolph._] Go, Peto, to horse, to horse, for thou and I Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinner-time. [_Exit Peto._] Jack, meet me tomorrow in the Temple hall At two oclock in the afternoon; There shalt thou know thy charge, and there receive Money and order for their furniture. The land is burning, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017428 | Percy stands on high, And either we or they must lower lie. [_Exit._] FALSTAFF. Rare words! Brave world!Hostess, my breakfast, come. O, I could wish this tavern were my drum. [_Exit._] ACT IV SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter Hotspur, Worcester and Douglas. HOTSPUR. Well said, my noble Scot. If speaking truth In this fine age were not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017429 | thought flattery, Such attribution should the Douglas have As not a soldier of this seasons stamp Should go so general current through the world. By God, I cannot flatter, I do defy The tongues of soothers, but a braver place In my hearts love hath no man than yourself. Nay, task me to my word; approve me, lord. DOUGLAS. Thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017430 | art the king of honour. No man so potent breathes upon the ground But I will beard him. HOTSPUR. Do so, and tis well. Enter a Messenger with letters. What letters hast thou there? I can but thank you. MESSENGER. These letters come from your father. HOTSPUR. Letters from him! Why comes he not himself? MESSENGER. He cannot come, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017431 | lord, he is grievous sick. HOTSPUR. Zounds, how has he the leisure to be sick In such a justling time? Who leads his power? Under whose government come they along? MESSENGER. His letters bear his mind, not I, my lord. WORCESTER. I prithee, tell me, doth he keep his bed? MESSENGER. He did, my lord, four days ere I set | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017432 | forth, And at the time of my departure thence He was much feard by his physicians. WORCESTER. 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. HOTSPUR. Sick now? Droop now? This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise; Tis catching hither, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017433 | even to our camp. He writes me here, that inward sickness And that his friends by deputation could not So soon be drawn, nor did he think it meet To lay so dangerous and dear a trust On any soul removed but on his own. Yet doth he give us bold advertisement That with our small conjunction we should on, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017434 | To see how fortune is disposed to us; For, as he writes, there is no quailing now, Because the King is certainly possessd Of all our purposes. What say you to it? WORCESTER. Your fathers sickness is a maim to us. HOTSPUR. A perilous gash, a very limb loppd off And yet, in faith, it is not! His present want | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017435 | 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 main 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, The very list, the very utmost | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017436 | bound Of all our fortunes. DOUGLAS. Faith, and so we should, where now remains A sweet reversion. We may boldly spend Upon the hope of what is to come in. A comfort of retirement lives in this. HOTSPUR. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto, If that the devil and mischance look big Upon the maidenhead of our affairs. WORCESTER. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017437 | But yet I would your father had been here. The quality and hair of our attempt Brooks no division. It will be thought By some that know not why he is away, That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike Of our proceedings, kept the Earl from hence. And think how such an apprehension May turn the tide of fearful faction, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017438 | breed a kind of question in our cause. For well you know we of the offring side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrement, And stop all sight-holes, every loop from whence The eye of reason may pry in upon us. This absence of your fathers draws a curtain That shows the ignorant a kind of fear Before not dreamt of. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017439 | HOTSPUR. You strain too far. I rather of his absence make this use: It lends a lustre and more great opinion, A larger dare to our great enterprise, Than if the Earl were here; for men must think If we without his help can make a head To push against the kingdom, with his help We shall oerturn it topsy-turvy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017440 | down. Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. DOUGLAS. As heart can think. There is not such a word Spoke in Scotland as this term of fear. Enter Sir Richard Vernon. HOTSPUR. My cousin Vernon! Welcome, by my soul. VERNON. Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord. The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong, Is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017441 | marching hitherwards, with him Prince John. HOTSPUR. No harm, what more? VERNON. And further, I have learnd The King himself in person is set forth, Or hitherwards intended speedily, With strong and mighty preparation. HOTSPUR. He shall be welcome too. Where is his son, The nimble-footed madcap Prince of Wales, And his comrades, that daffed the world aside And bid | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017442 | it pass? VERNON. All furnishd, all in arms; All plumed like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed, Glittering in golden coats, like images, As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer; Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. I saw young Harry with his beaver on, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017443 | His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly armd, Rise from the ground like featherd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel droppd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship. HOTSPUR. No more, no more! Worse than the sun in March, This praise doth nourish | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017444 | agues. Let them come! They come like sacrifices in their trim, And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war All hot and bleeding will we offer them. The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, And yet not ours. Come, let me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017445 | taste my horse, Who is to bear me like a thunderbolt Against the bosom of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, Meet and neer part till one drop down a corse. O, that Glendower were come! VERNON. There is more news. I learnd in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his power | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017446 | this fourteen days. DOUGLAS. Thats the worst tidings that I hear of yet. WORCESTER. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty sound. HOTSPUR. What may the Kings whole battle reach unto? VERNON. To thirty thousand. HOTSPUR. Forty let it be. My father and Glendower being both away, The powers of us may serve so great a day. Come, let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017447 | us take a muster speedily. Doomsday is near; die all, die merrily. DOUGLAS. Talk not of dying. I am out of fear Of death or deaths hand for this one half year. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. A public Road near Coventry. Enter Falstaff and Bardolph. FALSTAFF. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017448 | march through; well to Sutton Cofil tonight. BARDOLPH. Will you give me money, captain? FALSTAFF. Lay out, lay out. BARDOLPH. This bottle makes an angel. FALSTAFF. An if it do, take it for thy labour. An if it make twenty, take them all, Ill answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Peto meet me at towns end. BARDOLPH. I will, captain: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017449 | farewell. [_Exit._] FALSTAFF. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the Kings press damnably. I have got, in exchange of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomens sons, inquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017450 | the banns, such a commodity of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me none but such toasts-and-butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins heads, and they have bought out their services; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017451 | and now my whole charge consists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companiesslaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the gluttons dogs licked his sores; and such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded unjust servingmen, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen; the cankers of a calm world and a long peace, ten | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017452 | times more dishonourable-ragged than an old fazed ancient; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them that have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me I had | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017453 | unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. Ill not march through Coventry with them, thats flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs as if they had gyves on, for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. Theres not a shirt and a half in all my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017454 | company, and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a heralds coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But thats all one; theyll find linen enough on every hedge. Enter Prince Henry and the Lord of Westmoreland. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017455 | PRINCE. How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt? FALSTAFF. What, Hal! How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My good Lord of Westmoreland, I cry you mercy. I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury. WESTMORELAND. Faith, Sir John, tis more than time that I were there, and you too, but my powers are there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017456 | already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all. We must away all night. FALSTAFF. Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream. PRINCE. I think, to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after? FALSTAFF. Mine, Hal, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017457 | mine. PRINCE. I did never see such pitiful rascals. FALSTAFF. Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder, theyll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men. WESTMORELAND. Ay, but, Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly. FALSTAFF. Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017458 | had that; and for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me. PRINCE. No, Ill be sworn, unless you call three fingers on the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field. [_Exit._] FALSTAFF. What, is the King encamped? WESTMORELAND. He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long. [_Exit._] FALSTAFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017459 | Well, To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. [_Exit._] SCENE III. The Rebel Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas and Vernon. HOTSPUR. Well fight with him tonight. WORCESTER. It may not be. DOUGLAS. You give him then advantage. VERNON. Not a whit. HOTSPUR. Why say | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017460 | you so? Looks he not for supply? VERNON. So do we. HOTSPUR. His is certain, ours is doubtful. WORCESTER. Good cousin, be advised, stir not tonight. VERNON. Do not, my lord. DOUGLAS. You do not counsel well. You speak it out of fear and cold heart. VERNON. Do me no slander, Douglas; by my life, And I dare well maintain | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017461 | it with my life, If well-respected honour bid me on, I hold as little counsel with weak fear As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives. Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle Which of us fears. DOUGLAS. Yea, or tonight. VERNON. Content. HOTSPUR. Tonight, say I. VERNON. Come, come, it may not be. I wonder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017462 | much, Being men of such great leading as you are, That you foresee not what impediments Drag back our expedition. Certain horse Of my cousin Vernons are not yet come up. Your uncle Worcesters horse came but today, And now their pride and mettle is asleep, Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, That not a horse is half | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017463 | the half himself. HOTSPUR. So are the horses of the enemy In general, journey-bated and brought low. The better part of ours are full of rest. WORCESTER. The number of the King exceedeth ours. For Gods sake, cousin, stay till all come in. [_The trumpet sounds a parley._] Enter Sir Walter Blunt. BLUNT. I come with gracious offers from the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017464 | King, If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect. HOTSPUR. Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt, and would to God You were of our determination! Some of us love you well, and even those some Envy your great deservings and good name, Because you are not of our quality, But stand against us like an enemy. BLUNT. And God defend but still I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017465 | should stand so, So long as out of limit and true rule You stand against anointed majesty. But to my charge. The King hath sent to know The nature of your griefs, and whereupon You conjure from the breast of civil peace Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land Audacious cruelty. If that the King Have any way your good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017466 | deserts forgot, Which he confesseth to be manifold, He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed You shall have your desires with interest And pardon absolute for yourself and these Herein misled by your suggestion. HOTSPUR. The King is kind, and well we know the King Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. My father and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017467 | my uncle and myself Did give him that same royalty he wears, And when he was not six-and-twenty strong, Sick in the worlds regard, wretched and low, A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, My father gave him welcome to the shore: And when he heard him swear and vow to God He came but to be Duke of Lancaster, To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017468 | sue his livery, and beg his peace With tears of innocence and terms of zeal, My father, in kind heart and pity moved, Swore him assistance, and performed it too. Now, when the lords and barons of the realm Perceived Northumberland did lean to him, The more and less came in with cap and knee, Met him in boroughs, cities, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017469 | villages, Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes, Laid gifts before him, profferd him their oaths, Give him their heirs as pages, followd him Even at the heels in golden multitudes. He presently, as greatness knows itself, Steps me a little higher than his vow Made to my father while his blood was poor Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017470 | And now forsooth takes on him to reform Some certain edicts and some strait decrees That lie too heavy on the commonwealth; Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep Over his countrys wrongs; and by this face, This seeming brow of justice, did he win The hearts of all that he did angle for; Proceeded furthercut me off the heads | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017471 | Of all the favourites that the absent King In deputation left behind him here When he was personal in the Irish war. BLUNT. Tut, I came not to hear this. HOTSPUR. Then to the point. In short time after, he deposed the King, Soon after that deprived him of his life, And, in the neck of that, taskd the whole | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017472 | state. To make that worse, sufferd his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well placed, Indeed his king) to be engaged in Wales, There without ransom to lie forfeited; Disgraced me in my happy victories, Sought to entrap me by intelligence, Rated mine uncle from the Council-board, In rage dismissd my father from the court, Broke oath on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017473 | oath, committed wrong on wrong, And in conclusion drove us to seek out This head of safety, and withal to pry Into his title, the which now we find Too indirect for long continuance. BLUNT. Shall I return this answer to the King? HOTSPUR. Not so, Sir Walter. Well withdraw awhile. Go to the King, and let there be impawnd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017474 | Some surety for a safe return again, And in the morning early shall my uncle Bring him our purposes. And so, farewell. BLUNT. I would you would accept of grace and love. HOTSPUR. And maybe so we shall. BLUNT. Pray God you do. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. York. A Room in the Archbishops Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York and Sir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017475 | Michael. ARCHBISHOP. Hie, good Sir Michael; bear this sealed brief With winged haste to the Lord Marshal, This to my cousin Scroop, and all the rest To whom they are directed. If you knew How much they do import, you would make haste. SIR MICHAEL. My good lord, I guess their tenour. ARCHBISHOP. Like enough you do. Tomorrow, good Sir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017476 | Michael, is a day Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury, As I am truly given to understand, The King with mighty and quick-raised power Meets with Lord Harry. And, I fear, Sir Michael, What with the sickness of Northumberland, Whose power was in the first proportion, And what with Owen Glendowers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017477 | absence thence, Who with them was a rated sinew too, And comes not in, oer-ruld by prophecies, I fear the power of Percy is too weak To wage an instant trial with the King. SIR MICHAEL. Why, my good lord, you need not fear, There is Douglas and Lord Mortimer. ARCHBISHOP. No, Mortimer is not there. SIR MICHAEL. But there | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017478 | is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy, And there is my Lord of Worcester, and a head Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen. ARCHBISHOP. And so there is. But yet the King hath drawn The special head of all the land together: The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt, And many more corrivals and dear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017479 | men Of estimation and command in arms. SIR MICHAEL. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed. ARCHBISHOP. I hope no less, yet needful tis to fear; And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed. For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King Dismiss his power he means to visit us, For he hath heard of our confederacy, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017480 | And tis but wisdom to make strong against him. Therefore make haste. I must go write again To other friends; and so, farewell, Sir Michael. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE I. The Kings Camp near Shrewsbury. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt and Sir John Falstaff. KING. How bloodily the sun begins to peer Above yon bulky hill! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017481 | The day looks pale At his distemprature. PRINCE. The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the leaves Foretells a tempest and a blustring day. KING. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017482 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017483 | This churlish knot of all-abhorred 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 broached mischief to the unborn times? WORCESTER. Hear me, my liege: For mine own part, I could be well content To entertain the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017484 | lag end of my life With quiet hours. For I do protest I have not sought the day of this dislike. KING. You have not sought it? How comes it, then? FALSTAFF. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it. PRINCE. Peace, chewet, peace! WORCESTER. It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks Of favour from myself and all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017485 | 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 Richards 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017486 | 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-falln right, The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster. To this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017487 | we swore our aid. But in short space It raind down fortune showring 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017488 | 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 wood 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 cuckoos bird, Useth the sparrowdid | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017489 | 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 opposed by such means As you yourself have forged against | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017490 | yourself, By unkind usage, dangerous countenance, And violation of all faith and troth Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. KING. These things, indeed, you have articulate, Proclaimd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017491 | elbow at the news Of hurlyburly innovation. And never yet did insurrection want Such water-colours to impaint his cause, Nor moody beggars starving for a time Of pellmell havoc and confusion. PRINCE. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017492 | 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, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017493 | I have a truant been to chivalry, And so I hear he doth account me too. Yet this before my fathers 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. And, Prince of Wales, so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017494 | 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 cousins 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 Ill be his. So tell your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017495 | cousin, and then 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. [_Exit Worcester with Vernon._] PRINCE. It will not be accepted, on my life. The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017496 | Douglas and the Hotspur both together Are confident against the world in arms. KING. 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 the King, Blunt and Prince John._] FALSTAFF. Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017497 | tis a point of friendship. PRINCE. Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. FALSTAFF. I would twere bedtime, Hal, and all well. PRINCE. Why, thou owest God a death. [_Exit._] FALSTAFF. Tis not due yet, I would be loth to pay Him before His day. What need I be so forward with Him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017498 | 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 honor 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. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017499 | What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth be 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 Ill none of it. Honour | 60 | gutenberg |
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