Графични страници
PDF файл

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 Ravenspurg;

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 country's wrongs; and, by this face,
This seeming brow of justice, did he win
The hearts of all that he did angle for.
Proceeded further; cut me off the heads
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.

Then, to the point.

Hot. In short time after, he depos'd the king; Soon after that, depriv'd him of his life; And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole state: To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman March (Who is, if every owner were well plac'd, Indeed his king,) to be incag'd in Wales, There without ransome to lie forfeited: Disgrac'd me in my happy victories; Sought to entrap me by intelligence; Rated my uncle from the council-board; In rage dismiss'd my father from the court;

Broke oath on 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 we find

Too indirect for long continuance.

Blunt. Shall I return this answer to the king?
Hot. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdraw awhile.
Go to the king; and let there be impawn'd
Some surety for a safe return again,
And in the morning early shall mine uncle
Bring him our purposes: and so farewell,

Blunt. I would, you would accept of grace and love. Hot. And, may be, so we shall.


'Pray heaven, you do!


SCENE IV.-York. A room in the Archbishop's house.
Enter the Archbishop of York, and a Gentleman.
Arch. Hie, good sir Michael; bear this sealed brief,
With winged haste, to the lord mareshal;
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.
Gent. My good lord,

I guess their tenor.


Like enough, you do.

To-morrow, good sir 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 Glendower's absence, thence,
(Who with them was a rated sinew too,

And comes not in, o'er-rul'd by prophecies,)—

I fear, the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.

Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; there's

And Mortimer.


No, Mortimer's not there.

Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry


And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head

Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

Arch. 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 cor-rivals, and dear men

Of estimation and command in arms.

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well oppos'd. Arch. 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,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 severally


SCENE I.-The King's camp near Shrewsbury.

Enter King HENRY, Prince HENRY, Prince JOHN of Lancaster, Sir Walter BLUNT, and Sir JOHN FAL


K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon busky hill the day looks pale
At his distemperature.

P. Hen.

The southern wind

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes;
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.

K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize;
For nothing can seem foul to those that win.-

Trumpet. Enter WORCESTER and VERNON.
How now, my lord of Worcester? 'tis not well,
That you and I should meet upon such terms
As now we meet: You have deceiv'd 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't? will you again unknit
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 exhal'd meteor,

A prodigy of fear, and a portent

Of broached mischief to the unborn times?

Wor. Hear me, my liege:

For mine own part, I could be well content
To entertain the lag-end of my life

With quiet hours; for, I do protest,

I have not sought the day of this dislike.

K. Hen. You have not sought for it! how comes it then?

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.

Wor. It pleas'd your majesty, to turn your looks
Of favour, from myself, and all 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 Richard's 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 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,—
you did swear that oath at Doncaster,-
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rain'd down fortune showering 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 his unlucky Irish wars,

« ПредишнаНапред »