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twg_000000017500 | is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. [_Exit._] SCENE II. The Rebel Camp. Enter Worcester and Vernon. WORCESTER. O no, my nephew must not know, Sir Richard, The liberal and kind offer of the King. VERNON. Twere best he did. WORCESTER. Then are we all undone. It is not possible, it cannot be, The King should keep his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017501 | word in loving us; He will suspect us still, and find a time To punish this offence in other faults. Suspicion all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes, For treason is but trusted like the fox, Who, neer so tame, so cherishd and lockd up, Will have a wild trick of his ancestors. Look how we can, or | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017502 | sad or merrily, Interpretation will misquote our looks, And we shall feed like oxen at a stall, The better cherishd still the nearer death. My nephews trespass may be well forgot, It hath the excuse of youth and heat of blood, And an adopted name of privilege A hare-braind Hotspur, governd by a spleen. All his offences live upon my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017503 | head And on his fathers. We did train him on, And, his corruption being taen from us, We as the spring of all shall pay for all. Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know In any case the offer of the King. VERNON. Deliver what you will, Ill say tis so. Here comes your cousin. Enter Hotspur and Douglas; Officers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017504 | and Soldiers behind. HOTSPUR. My uncle is returnd. Deliver up my Lord of Westmoreland. Uncle, what news? WORCESTER. The King will bid you battle presently. DOUGLAS. Defy him by the Lord Of Westmoreland. HOTSPUR. Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. DOUGLAS. Marry, I shall, and very willingly. [_Exit._] WORCESTER. There is no seeming mercy in the King. HOTSPUR. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017505 | Did you beg any? God forbid! WORCESTER. I told him gently of our grievances, Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus, By now forswearing that he is forsworn. He calls us rebels, traitors, and will scourge With haughty arms this hateful name in us. Enter Douglas. DOUGLAS. Arm, gentlemen; to arms! For I have thrown A brave defiance in King | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017506 | Henrys teeth, And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear it, Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. WORCESTER. The Prince of Wales steppd forth before the King, And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. HOTSPUR. O, would the quarrel lay upon our heads, And that no man might draw short breath today But I and Harry Monmouth! Tell me, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017507 | tell me, How showd his tasking? Seemd it in contempt? VERNON. No, by my soul. I never in my life Did hear a challenge urged more modestly, Unless a brother should a brother dare To gentle exercise and proof of arms. He gave you all the duties of a man, Trimmd up your praises with a princely tongue, Spoke your | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017508 | deservings like a chronicle, Making you ever better than his praise By still dispraising praise valued with you, And, which became him like a prince indeed, He made a blushing cital of himself, And chid his truant youth with such a grace As if he masterd there a double spirit Of teaching and of learning instantly. There did he pause: | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017509 | but let me tell the world, If he outlive the envy of this day, England did never owe so sweet a hope So much misconstrued in his wantonness. HOTSPUR. Cousin, I think thou art enamoured Upon his follies. Never did I hear Of any prince so wild a liberty. But be he as he will, yet once ere night I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017510 | will embrace him with a soldiers arm, That he shall shrink under my courtesy. Arm, arm with speed! And, fellows, soldiers, friends, Better consider what you have to do Than I that have not well the gift of tongue Can lift your blood up with persuasion. Enter a Messenger. MESSENGER. My lord, here are letters for you. HOTSPUR. I cannot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017511 | read them now. O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long If life did ride upon a dials point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour. And if we live, we live to tread on kings; If die, brave death, when princes die with us! Now, for our consciences, the arms | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017512 | are fair When the intent of bearing them is just. Enter another Messenger. MESSENGER. My lord, prepare. The King comes on apace. HOTSPUR. I thank him that he cuts me from my tale, For I profess not talking. Only this: Let each man do his best. And here draw I A sword whose temper I intend to stain With the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017513 | best blood that I can meet withal In the adventure of this perilous day. Now, Esperance! Percy! And set on. Sound all the lofty instruments of war, And by that music let us all embrace, For, Heaven to Earth, some of us never shall A second time do such a courtesy. [_The trumpets sound. They embrace, and exeunt._] SCENE III. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017514 | Plain between the Camps. The King enters with his power. Alarum to the battle. Then enter Douglas and Sir Walter Blunt. BLUNT. What is thy name that in the battle thus Thou crossest me? What honour dost thou seek Upon my head? DOUGLAS. Know then my name is Douglas, And I do haunt thee in the battle thus Because some | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017515 | tell me that thou art a king. BLUNT. They tell thee true. DOUGLAS. The Lord of Stafford dear today hath bought Thy likeness, for instead of thee, King Harry, This sword hath ended him. So shall it thee, Unless thou yield thee as my prisoner. BLUNT. I was not born a yielder, thou proud Scot, And thou shalt find a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017516 | king that will revenge Lord Staffords death. [_They fight, and Blunt is slain._] Enter Hotspur. HOTSPUR. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holmedon thus, I never had triumphed upon a Scot. DOUGLAS. Alls done, alls won; here breathless lies the King. HOTSPUR. Where? DOUGLAS. Here. HOTSPUR. This, Douglas? No, I know this face full well. A gallant knight he was, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017517 | his name was Blunt, Semblably furnishd like the King himself. DOUGLAS. A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes! A borrowd title hast thou bought too dear. Why didst thou tell me that thou wert a king? HOTSPUR. The King hath many marching in his coats. DOUGLAS. Now, by my sword, I will kill all his coats; Ill murder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017518 | all his wardrobe, piece by piece, Until I meet the King. HOTSPUR. Up, and away! Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. [_Exeunt._] Alarums. Enter Falstaff solus. FALSTAFF. Though I could scape shot-free at London, I fear the shot here. Heres no scoring but upon the pate.Soft! who are you? Sir Walter Blunt. Theres honour for you. Heres no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017519 | vanity. I am as hot as molten lead, and as heavy too. God keep lead out of me, I need no more weight than mine own bowels. I have led my ragamuffins where they are peppered. Theres not three of my hundred and fifty left alive, and they are for the towns end, to beg during life. But who comes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017520 | here? Enter Prince Henry. PRINCE. What, standst thou idle here? Lend me thy sword. Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff Under the hoofs of vaunting enemies, Whose deaths are yet unrevenged. I prithee Lend me thy sword. FALSTAFF. O Hal, I prithee give me leave to breathe awhile. Turk Gregory never did such deeds in arms as I have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017521 | done this day. I have paid Percy, I have made him sure. PRINCE. He is indeed, and living to kill thee. I prithee, lend me thy sword. FALSTAFF. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be alive, thou gettst not my sword; but take my pistol, if thou wilt. PRINCE. Give it me. What, is it in the case? FALSTAFF. Ay, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017522 | Hal, tis hot, tis hot. Theres that will sack a city. [_The Prince draws out a bottle of sack._] PRINCE. What, is it a time to jest and dally now? [_Throws it at him, and exit._] FALSTAFF. Well, if Percy be alive, Ill pierce him. If he do come in my way, so; if he do not, if I come | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017523 | in his willingly, let him make a carbonado of me. I like not such grinning honour as Sir Walter hath. Give me life, which if I can save, so: if not, honour comes unlooked for, and theres an end. [_Exit._] SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alarums. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Lancaster and Westmoreland. KING. I prithee, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017524 | Harry, withdraw thyself, thou bleedest too much. Lord John of Lancaster, go you with him. LANCASTER. Not I, my lord, unless I did bleed too. PRINCE. I do beseech your Majesty, make up, Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. KING. I will do so. My Lord of Westmoreland, Lead him to his tent. WESTMORELAND. Come, my lord, Ill lead | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017525 | you to your tent. PRINCE. Lead me, my lord? I do not need your help, And God forbid a shallow scratch should drive The Prince of Wales from such a field as this, Where staind nobility lies trodden on, And rebels arms triumph in massacres! LANCASTER. We breathe too long. Come, cousin Westmoreland, Our duty this way lies. For Gods | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017526 | sake, come. [_Exeunt Lancaster and Westmoreland._] PRINCE. By Heaven, thou hast deceived me, Lancaster, I did not think thee lord of such a spirit. Before, I loved thee as a brother, John, But now I do respect thee as my soul. KING. I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017527 | such an ungrown warrior. PRINCE. O, this boy Lends mettle to us all! [_Exit._] Enter Douglas. DOUGLAS. Another king! They grow like Hydras heads. I am the Douglas, fatal to all those That wear those colours on them. What art thou That counterfeitst the person of a king? KING. The King himself, who, Douglas, grieves at heart So many of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017528 | his shadows thou hast met, And not the very King. I have two boys Seek Percy and thyself about the field, But, seeing thou fallst on me so luckily, I will assay thee, and defend thyself. DOUGLAS. I fear thou art another counterfeit, And yet, in faith, thou bearest thee like a king. But mine I am sure thou art, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017529 | whoeer thou be, And thus I win thee. They fight; the King being in danger, enter Prince Henry. PRINCE. Hold up thy head, vile Scot, or thou art like Never to hold it up again! The spirits Of valiant Shirley, Stafford, Blunt are in my arms. It is the Prince of Wales that threatens thee, Who never promiseth but he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017530 | means to pay. [_They fight. Douglas flies._] Cheerly, my lord. How fares your Grace? Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent, And so hath Clifton. Ill to Clifton straight. KING. Stay and breathe awhile. Thou hast redeemd thy lost opinion, And showd thou makst some tender of my life, In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me. PRINCE. O | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017531 | God, they did me too much injury That ever said I hearkend for your death. If it were so, I might have let alone The insulting hand of Douglas over you, Which would have been as speedy in your end As all the poisonous potions in the world, And saved the treacherous labour of your son. KING. Make up to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017532 | Clifton. Ill to Sir Nicholas Gawsey. [_Exit._] Enter Hotspur. HOTSPUR. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Monmouth. PRINCE. Thou speakst as if I would deny my name. HOTSPUR. My name is Harry Percy. PRINCE. Why then I see A very valiant rebel of the name. I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy, To share with me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017533 | in glory any more. Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere, Nor can one England brook a double reign, Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales. HOTSPUR. Nor shall it, Harry, for the hour is come To end the one of us, and would to God Thy name in arms were now as great as mine! PRINCE. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017534 | Ill make it greater ere I part from thee, And all the budding honours on thy crest Ill crop to make a garland for my head. HOTSPUR. I can no longer brook thy vanities. [_They fight._] Enter Falstaff. FALSTAFF. Well said, Hal! To it, Hal! Nay, you shall find no boys play here, I can tell you. Enter Douglas. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017535 | fights with Falstaff, who falls down as if he were dead, and exit Douglas. The Prince kills Hotspur. HOTSPUR. O Harry, thou hast robbd me of my youth! I better brook the loss of brittle life Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; They wound my thoughts worse than thy sword my flesh. But thoughts, the slaves of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017536 | life, and life, times fool, And time, that takes survey of all the world, Must have a stop. O, I could prophesy, But that the earthy and cold hand of death Lies on my tongue. No, Percy, thou art dust, And food for [_Dies._] PRINCE. For worms, brave Percy. Fare thee well, great heart! Ill-weaved ambition, how much art thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017537 | shrunk! When that this body did contain a spirit, A kingdom for it was too small a bound; But now two paces of the vilest earth Is room enough. This earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. If thou wert sensible of courtesy, I should not make so dear a show of zeal. But let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017538 | my favours hide thy mangled face; And even in thy behalf Ill thank myself For doing these fair rites of tenderness. Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, But not rememberd in thy epitaph! [_Sees Falstaff on the ground._] What, old acquaintance, could not all this flesh Keep in a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017539 | little life? Poor Jack, farewell! I could have better spared a better man. O, I should have a heavy miss of thee If I were much in love with vanity. Death hath not struck so fat a deer today, Though many dearer, in this bloody fray. Embowelld will I see thee by and by, Till then in blood by noble | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017540 | Percy lie. [_Exit._] Falstaff rises up. FALSTAFF. Embowelld! If thou embowel me today, Ill give you leave to powder me and eat me too tomorrow. Sblood, twas time to counterfeit, or that hot termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I lie, I am no counterfeit. To die, is to be a counterfeit, for he is but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017541 | the counterfeit of a man who hath not the life of a man: but to counterfeit dying, when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed. The better part of valour is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life. Zounds, I am afraid of this gunpowder | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017542 | Percy, though he be dead. How if he should counterfeit too, and rise? By my faith, I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit. Therefore Ill make him sure, yea, and Ill swear I killed him. Why may not he rise as well as I? Nothing confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. Therefore, sirrah, with a new | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017543 | wound in your thigh, come you along with me. [_Takes Hotspur on his back._] Enter Prince Henry and Lancaster. PRINCE. Come, brother John, full bravely hast thou fleshd Thy maiden sword. LANCASTER. But soft, whom have we here? Did you not tell me this fat man was dead? PRINCE. I did; I saw him dead, Breathless and bleeding on the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017544 | ground.Art thou alive? Or is it fantasy that plays upon our eyesight? I prithee, speak, we will not trust our eyes Without our ears. Thou art not what thou seemst. FALSTAFF. No, thats certain, I am not a double man. But if I be not Jack Falstaff, then am I a Jack. There is Percy! [_Throwing the body down._] If | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017545 | your father will do me any honour, so; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure you. PRINCE. Why, Percy I killd myself, and saw thee dead. FALSTAFF. Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017546 | breath, and so was he, but we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be believed, so; if not, let them that should reward valour bear the sin upon their own heads. Ill take it upon my death, I gave him this wound in the thigh. If the man were alive, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017547 | and would deny it, zounds, I would make him eat a piece of my sword. LANCASTER. This is the strangest tale that ever I heard. PRINCE. This is the strangest fellow, brother John. Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back. For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, Ill gild it with the happiest terms I have. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017548 | [_A retreat is sounded._] The trumpet sounds retreat; the day is ours. Come, brother, let us to the highest of the field, To see what friends are living, who are dead. [_Exeunt Prince Henry and Lancaster._] FALSTAFF. Ill follow, as they say, for reward. He that rewards me, God reward him! If I do grow great, Ill grow less, for | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017549 | Ill purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly as a nobleman should do. [_Exit, bearing off the body._] SCENE V. Another Part of the Field. The trumpets sound. Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Lancaster, Westmoreland and others, with Worcester and Vernon prisoners. KING. Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke. Ill-spirited Worcester, did not we send grace, Pardon, and terms of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017550 | love to all of you? And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary? Misuse the tenour of thy kinsmans trust? Three knights upon our party slain today, A noble earl, and many a creature else, Had been alive this hour, If, like a Christian, thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies true intelligence. WORCESTER. What I have done my safety urged | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017551 | me to; And I embrace this fortune patiently, Since not to be avoided it falls on me. KING. Bear Worcester to the death, and Vernon too. Other offenders we will pause upon. [_Exeunt Worcester and Vernon, guarded._] How goes the field? PRINCE. The noble Scot, Lord Douglas, when he saw The fortune of the day quite turnd from him, The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017552 | noble Percy slain, and all his men Upon the foot of fear, fled with the rest, And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised That the pursuers took him. At my tent The Douglas is, and I beseech your Grace I may dispose of him. KING. With all my heart. PRINCE. Then, brother John of Lancaster, to you This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017553 | honourable bounty shall belong. Go to the Douglas and deliver him Up to his pleasure, ransomless and free. His valours shown upon our crests today Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds, Even in the bosom of our adversaries. LANCASTER. I thank your Grace for this high courtesy, Which I shall give away immediately. KING. Then this remains, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017554 | that we divide our power. You, son John, and my cousin Westmoreland, Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop, Who, as we hear, are busily in arms. Myself and you, son Harry, will towards Wales, To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March. Rebellion in this land shall lose his | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017555 | sway, Meeting the check of such another day, And since this business so fair is done, Let us not leave till all our own be won. [_Exeunt._] THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE FOURTH Contents INDUCTION ACT I Scene I. The same. Scene II. London. A street. Scene III. York. The Archbishops palace. ACT II Scene I. London. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017556 | street. Scene II. London. Another street. Scene III. Warkworth. Before the castle. Scene IV. The Boars head Tavern in Eastcheap. ACT III Scene I. Westminster. The palace. Scene II. Gloucestershire. Before Justice Shallows house. ACT IV Scene I. Yorkshire. Gaultree Forest. Scene II. Another part of the forest. Scene III. Another part of the forest. Scene IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017557 | Chamber. Scene V. Another chamber. ACT V Scene I. Gloucestershire. Shallows house. Scene II. Westminster. The palace. Scene III. Gloucestershire. Shallows orchard. Scene IV. London. A street. Scene V. A public place near Westminster Abbey. EPILOGUE Dramatis Person RUMOUR, the Presenter. KING HENRY the Fourth. HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards King Henry the Fifth. THOMAS, DUKE OF CLARENCE. PRINCE JOHN | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017558 | OF LANCASTER. PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER. EARL OF WARWICK. EARL OF WESTMORELAND. EARL OF SURREY. GOWER. HARCOURT. SIR JOHN BLUNT. Lord CHIEF JUSTICE of the Kings Bench. A SERVANT of the Chief Justice. Henry Percy, Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND. Scroop, ARCHBISHOP of York. Lord MOWBRAY. Lord HASTINGS. LORD BARDOLPH. SIR JOHN COLEVILLE. TRAVERS and MORTON, retainers of Northumberland. SIR JOHN FALSTAFF. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017559 | His Page. BARDOLPH. PISTOL. POINS. PETO. SHALLOW and SILENCE, country justices. DAVY, Servant to Shallow. MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and BULLCALF, recruits. FANG and SNARE, sheriffs officers. LADY NORTHUMBERLAND. LADY PERCY. MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap. DOLL TEARSHEET. Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, Musicians, Beadles, Grooms, etc. A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue. SCENE: England. INDUCTION Warkworth. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017560 | Before the castle. Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. RUMOUR. Open your ears; for which of you will stop The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks? I, from the orient to the drooping west, Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold The acts commenced on this ball of earth. Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017561 | language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. I speak of peace, while covert enmity Under the smile of safety wounds the world. And who but Rumour, who but only I, Make fearful musters and prepared defence, Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief, Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, And no | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017562 | such matter? Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures, And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavring multitude, Can play upon it. But what need I thus My well-known body to anatomize Among my household? Why is Rumour here? I run before King Harrys victory, Who in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017563 | a bloody field by Shrewsbury Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops, Quenching the flame of bold rebellion Even with the rebels blood. But what mean I To speak so true at first? My office is To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell Under the wrath of noble Hotspurs sword, And that the King before the Douglas rage Stoopd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017564 | his anointed head as low as death. This have I rumourd through the peasant towns Between that royal field of Shrewsbury And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone, Where Hotspurs father, old Northumberland, Lies crafty-sick. The posts come tiring on, And not a man of them brings other news Than they have learnt of me. From Rumours tongues They bring | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017565 | smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs. [_Exit._] ACT I SCENE I. The same. Enter Lord Bardolph. LORD BARDOLPH. Who keeps the gate here, ho? The Porter opens the gate. Where is the Earl? PORTER. What shall I say you are? LORD BARDOLPH. Tell thou the Earl That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here. PORTER. His lordship is walkd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017566 | forth into the orchard. Please it your honour knock but at the gate, And he himself will answer. Enter Northumberland. LORD BARDOLPH. Here comes the Earl. [_Exit Porter._] NORTHUMBERLAND. What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now Should be the father of some stratagem. The times are wild; contention, like a horse Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017567 | bears down all before him. LORD BARDOLPH. Noble earl, I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. NORTHUMBERLAND. Good, an God will! LORD BARDOLPH. As good as heart can wish. The King is almost wounded to the death; And, in the fortune of my lord your son, Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts Killd by the hand of Douglas; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017568 | young Prince John And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field; And Harry Monmouths brawn, the hulk Sir John, Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day, So fought, so followd and so fairly won, Came not till now to dignify the times Since Caesars fortunes! NORTHUMBERLAND. How is this derived? Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury? LORD | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017569 | BARDOLPH. I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence, A gentleman well bred and of good name, That freely renderd me these news for true. NORTHUMBERLAND. Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent On Tuesday last to listen after news. Enter Travers. LORD BARDOLPH. My lord, I over-rode him on the way, And he is furnishd with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017570 | no certainties More than he haply may retail from me. NORTHUMBERLAND. Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you? TRAVERS. My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turnd me back With joyful tidings, and, being better horsed, Out-rode me. After him came spurring hard A gentleman, almost forspent with speed, That stoppd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. He askd the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017571 | way to Chester, and of him I did demand what news from Shrewsbury. He told me that rebellion had bad luck And that young Harry Percys spur was cold. With that he gave his able horse the head, And bending forward struck his armed heels Against the panting sides of his poor jade Up to the rowel-head, and starting so | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017572 | He seemd in running to devour the way, Staying no longer question. NORTHUMBERLAND. Ha? Again: Said he young Harry Percys spur was cold? Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion Had met ill luck? LORD BARDOLPH. My lord, Ill tell you what: If my young lord your son have not the day, Upon mine honour, for a silken point Ill give my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017573 | barony, never talk of it. NORTHUMBERLAND. Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers Give then such instances of loss? LORD BARDOLPH. Who, he? He was some hilding fellow that had stolen The horse he rode on, and, upon my life, Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news. Enter Morton. NORTHUMBERLAND. Yea, this mans brow, like to a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017574 | title-leaf, Foretells the nature of a tragic volume. So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood Hath left a witnessd usurpation. Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury? MORTON. I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord, Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask To fright our party. NORTHUMBERLAND. How doth my son and brother? Thou tremblest, and the whiteness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017575 | in thy cheek Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dread in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priams curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt; But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue, And I my Percys death | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017576 | ere thou reportst it. This thou wouldst say: Your son did thus and thus; Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds: But in the end, to stop my ear indeed, Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, Ending with Brother, son, and all are dead. MORTON. Douglas is living, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017577 | and your brother, yet; But, for my lord your son NORTHUMBERLAND. Why, he is dead. See what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know Hath by instinct knowledge from others eyes That what he feard is chanced. Yet speak, Morton; Tell thou an earl his divination lies, And I will take it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017578 | as a sweet disgrace And make thee rich for doing me such wrong. MORTON. You are too great to be by me gainsaid, Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. NORTHUMBERLAND. Yet, for all this, say not that Percys dead. I see a strange confession in thine eye. Thou shakest thy head and holdst it fear or sin | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017579 | To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so. The tongue offends not that reports his death; And he doth sin that doth belie the dead, Not he which says the dead is not alive. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news Hath but a losing office, and his tongue Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, Rememberd tolling | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017580 | a departing friend. LORD BARDOLPH. I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead. MORTON. I am sorry I should force you to believe That which I would to God I had not seen; But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state, Rendring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed, To Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down The never-daunted Percy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017581 | to the earth, From whence with life he never more sprung up. In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire Even to the dullest peasant in his camp, Being bruited once, took fire and heat away From the best-temperd courage in his troops; For from his metal was his party steeld, Which once in him abated, all the rest | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017582 | Turnd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. And as the thing thats heavy in itself Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed, So did our men, heavy in Hotspurs loss, Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety, Fly from the field. Then | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017583 | was that noble Worcester Too soon taen prisoner; and that furious Scot, The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword Had three times slain th appearance of the King, Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame Of those that turnd their backs, and in his flight, Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all Is that the King hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017584 | won, and hath sent out A speedy power to encounter you, my lord, Under the conduct of young Lancaster And Westmoreland. This is the news at full. NORTHUMBERLAND. For this I shall have time enough to mourn. In poison there is physic; and these news, Having been well, that would have made me sick, Being sick, have in some measure | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017585 | made me well. And as the wretch, whose fever-weakend joints, Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life, Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire Out of his keepers arms, even so my limbs, Weakend with grief, being now enraged with grief, Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch! A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel Must glove this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017586 | hand. And hence, thou sickly coif! Thou art a guard too wanton for the head Which princes, fleshd with conquest, aim to hit. Now bind my brows with iron, and approach The raggedst hour that time and spite dare bring To frown upon th enraged Northumberland! Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Natures hand Keep the wild flood confined! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017587 | Let order die! And let this world no longer be a stage To feed contention in a lingering act; But let one spirit of the first-born Cain Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, And darkness be the burier of the dead! LORD BARDOLPH. This strained passion doth you wrong, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017588 | my lord. MORTON. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour. The lives of all your loving complices Lean on your health; the which, if you give oer To stormy passion, must perforce decay. You cast th event of war, my noble lord, And summd the account of chance, before you said Let us make head. It was your presurmise | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017589 | That in the dole of blows your son might drop. You knew he walkd oer perils, on an edge, More likely to fall in than to get oer. You were advised his flesh was capable Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged. Yet did you say Go forth; and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017590 | none of this, Though strongly apprehended, could restrain The stiff-borne action. What hath then befalln, Or what hath this bold enterprise brought forth, More than that being which was like to be? LORD BARDOLPH. We all that are engaged to this loss Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas That if we wrought out life twas ten to one; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017591 | And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed Choked the respect of likely peril feard; And since we are oerset, venture again. Come, we will put forth, body and goods. MORTON. Tis more than time. And, my most noble lord, I hear for certain, and dare speak the truth: The gentle Archbishop of York is up With well-appointed powers. He | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017592 | is a man Who with a double surety binds his followers. My lord your son had only but the corpse, But shadows and the shows of men, to fight; For that same word, rebellion did divide The action of their bodies from their souls, And they did fight with queasiness, constraind, As men drink potions, that their weapons only Seemd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017593 | on our side; but, for their spirits and souls, This word, rebellion, it had froze them up, As fish are in a pond. But now the bishop Turns insurrection to religion. Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts, Hes followd both with body and with mind, And doth enlarge his rising with the blood Of fair King Richard, scraped from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017594 | Pomfret stones; Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause; Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land, Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke; And more and less do flock to follow him. NORTHUMBERLAND. I knew of this before; but, to speak truth, This present grief had wiped it from my mind. Go in with me, and counsel every man | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017595 | The aptest way for safety and revenge. Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed. Never so few, and never yet more need. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. London. A street. Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler. FALSTAFF. Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water? PAGE. He said, sir, the water itself was a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017596 | good healthy water; but, for the party that owed it, he might have moe diseases than he knew for. FALSTAFF. Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me. The brain of this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent anything that tends to laughter more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017597 | only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the Prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set me off, why then I have no judgement. Thou whoreson mandrake, thou art fitter to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017598 | be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never manned with an agate till now, but I will inset you neither in gold nor silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for a jewel,the juvenal, the Prince your master, whose chin is not yet fledge. I will sooner have | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000017599 | a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he shall get one off his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is a face-royal. God may finish it when He will, tis not a hair amiss yet. He may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn sixpence out of | 60 | gutenberg |
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