The First Part Of King Henry The Fourth

1 Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt and Sir
2 John Falstaff.
3 KING.
4 How bloodily the sun begins to peer
5 Above yon bulky hill! The day looks pale
6 At his distemp’rature.
7 PRINCE.
8 The southern wind
9 Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
10 And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
11 Foretells a tempest and a blust’ring day.
12 KING.
13 Then with the losers let it sympathize,
14 For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
15 [_The trumpet sounds_.]
16 Enter Worcester and Vernon.
17 How, now, my Lord of Worcester! ’Tis not well
18 That you and I should meet upon such terms
19 As now we meet. You have deceived our trust,
20 And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
21 To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
22 This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
23 What say you to it? Will you again unknit
24 This churlish knot of all-abhorred war,
25 And move in that obedient orb again
26 Where you did give a fair and natural light,
27 And be no more an exhaled meteor,
28 A prodigy of fear, and a portent
29 Of broached mischief to the unborn times?
30 WORCESTER.
31 Hear me, my liege:
32 For mine own part, I could be well content
33 To entertain the lag end of my life
34 With quiet hours. For I do protest
35 I have not sought the day of this dislike.
36 KING.
37 You have not sought it? How comes it, then?
38 FALSTAFF.
39 Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
40 PRINCE.
41 Peace, chewet, peace!
42 WORCESTER.
43 It pleased your Majesty to turn your looks
44 Of favour from myself and all our house;
45 And yet I must remember you, my lord,
46 We were the first and dearest of your friends.
47 For you my staff of office did I break
48 In Richard’s time, and posted day and night
49 To meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
50 When yet you were in place and in account
51 Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
52 It was myself, my brother, and his son,
53 That brought you home, and boldly did outdare
54 The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
55 And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
56 That you did nothing purpose ’gainst the state,
57 Nor claim no further than your new-fall’n right,
58 The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
59 To this we swore our aid. But in short space
60 It rain’d down fortune show’ring on your head,
61 And such a flood of greatness fell on you,
62 What with our help, what with the absent King,
63 What with the injuries of a wanton time,
64 The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
65 And the contrarious winds that held the King
66 So long in his unlucky Irish wars
67 That all in England did repute him dead:
68 And from this swarm of fair advantages
69 You took occasion to be quickly woo’d
70 To gripe the general sway into your hand,
71 Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster;
72 And, being fed by us, you used us so
73 As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird,
74 Useth the sparrow—did oppress our nest,
75 Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
76 That even our love durst not come near your sight
77 For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
78 We were enforced, for safety sake to fly
79 Out of your sight, and raise this present head,
80 Whereby we stand opposed by such means
81 As you yourself have forged against yourself,
82 By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
83 And violation of all faith and troth
84 Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.
85 KING.
86 These things, indeed, you have articulate,
87 Proclaim’d at market crosses, read in churches,
88 To face the garment of rebellion
89 With some fine colour that may please the eye
90 Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
91 Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
92 Of hurlyburly innovation.
93 And never yet did insurrection want
94 Such water-colours to impaint his cause,
95 Nor moody beggars starving for a time
96 Of pellmell havoc and confusion.
97 PRINCE.
98 In both your armies there is many a soul
99 Shall pay full dearly for this encounter
100 If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
101 The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
102 In praise of Henry Percy. By my hopes,
103 This present enterprise set off his head,
104 I do not think a braver gentleman,
105 More active-valiant or more valiant-young,
106 More daring or more bold, is now alive
107 To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
108 For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
109 I have a truant been to chivalry,
110 And so I hear he doth account me too.
111 Yet this before my father’s Majesty—
112 I am content that he shall take the odds
113 Of his great name and estimation,
114 And will, to save the blood on either side,
115 Try fortune with him in a single fight.
116 KING.
117 And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
118 Albeit considerations infinite
119 Do make against it.—No, good Worcester, no.
120 We love our people well, even those we love
121 That are misled upon your cousin’s part,
122 And, will they take the offer of our grace,
123 Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man
124 Shall be my friend again, and I’ll be his.
125 So tell your cousin, and then bring me word
126 What he will do. But if he will not yield,
127 Rebuke and dread correction wait on us,
128 And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
129 We will not now be troubled with reply.
130 We offer fair, take it advisedly.
131 [_Exit Worcester with Vernon._]
132 PRINCE.
133 It will not be accepted, on my life.
134 The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
135 Are confident against the world in arms.
136 KING.
137 Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
138 For on their answer, will we set on them,
139 And God befriend us as our cause is just!
140 [_Exeunt the King, Blunt and Prince John._]
141 FALSTAFF.
142 Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and bestride me, so; ’tis a
143 point of friendship.
144 PRINCE.
145 Nothing but a colossus can do thee that friendship.
146 Say thy prayers, and farewell.
147 FALSTAFF.
148 I would ’twere bedtime, Hal, and all well.
149 PRINCE.
150 Why, thou owest God a death.
151 [_Exit._]
152 FALSTAFF.
153 ’Tis not due yet, I would be loth to pay Him before His day. What need
154 I be so forward with Him that calls not on me? Well, ’tis no matter,
155 honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come
156 on? How then? Can honor set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away
157 the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then? No.
158 What is honour? A word. What is in that word, “honour”? What is that
159 “honour”? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o’
160 Wednesday. Doth he feel it? No. Doth be hear it? No. ’Tis insensible,
161 then? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why?
162 Detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I’ll none of it. Honour is a
163 mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism.
164 [_Exit._]