London. The Palace. |
| |
Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, and Others. |
| K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, |
| Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, |
| And breathe short-winded accents of new broils |
| To be commence'd in stronds afar remote. |
| No more the thirsty entrance of this soil |
| Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; |
| No more shall trenching war channel her fields, |
| Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs |
| Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, |
| Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, |
| All of one nature, of one substance bred, |
| Did lately meet in the intestine shock |
| And furious close of civil butchery, |
| Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks, |
| March all one way, and be no more oppos'd |
| Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: |
| The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife, |
| No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends, |
| As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,— |
| Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross |
| We are impressed and engag'd to fight,— |
| Forthwith a power of English shall we levy, |
| Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb |
| To chase these pagans in those holy fields |
| Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet |
| Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd |
| For our advantage on the bitter cross. |
| But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old, |
| And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go: |
| Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear |
| Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, |
| What yesternight our council did decree |
| In forwarding this dear expedience. |
| West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, |
| And many limits of the charge set down |
| But yesternight; when all athwart there came |
| A post from Wales loaden with heavy news; |
| Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer, |
| Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight |
| Against the irregular and wild Glendower, |
| Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken, |
| And a thousand of his people butchered; |
| Upon whose dead corpse' there was such misuse, |
| Such beastly shameless transformation |
| By those Welshwomen done, as may not be |
| Without much shame re-told or spoken of. |
| K. Hen. It seems then that the tidings of this broil |
| Brake off our business for the Holy Land. |
| West. This match'd with other like, my gracious lord; |
| For more uneven and unwelcome news |
| Came from the north and thus it did import: |
| On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there, |
| Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald, |
| That ever-valiant and approved Scot, |
| At Holmedon met, |
| Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour; |
| As by discharge of their artillery, |
| And shape of likelihood, the news was told; |
| For he that brought them, in the very heat |
| And pride of their contention did take horse, |
| Uncertain of the issue any way. |
| K. Hen. Here is a dear and true industrious friend, |
| Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse, |
| Stain'd with the variation of each soil |
| Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; |
| And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news. |
| The Earl of Douglas is discomfited; |
| Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights, |
| Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see |
| On Holmedon's plains: of prisoners Hotspur took |
| Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son |
| To beaten Douglas, and the Earls of Athol, |
| Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. |
| And is not this an honourable spoil? |
| A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? |
| West. In faith, |
| It is a conquest for a prince to boast of. |
| K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad and mak'st me sin |
| In envy that my Lord Northumberland |
| Should be the father to so blest a son, |
| A son who is the theme of honour's tongue; |
| Amongst a grove the very straightest plant; |
| Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride: |
| Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him, |
| See riot and dishonour stain the brow |
| Of my young Harry. O! that it could be prov'd |
| That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd |
| In cradle-clothes our children where they lay, |
| And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet. |
| Then would I have his Harry, and he mine. |
| But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz, |
| Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners, |
| Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd, |
| To his own use he keeps, and sends me word, |
| I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife. |
| West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester, |
| Malevolent to you in all aspects; |
| Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up |
| The crest of youth against your dignity. |
| K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this; |
| And for this cause a while we must neglect |
| Our holy purpose to Jerusalem. |
| Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we |
| Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords: |
| But come yourself with speed to us again; |
| For more is to be said and to be done |
| Than out of anger can be uttered. |
| West. I will, my liege. [Exeunt. |
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