London. A Room in the Palace. |
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Enter KING HENRY, the PRINCE, and Lords. |
K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I |
Must have some private conference: but be near at hand, |
For we shall presently have need of you. [Exeunt Lords. |
I know not whether God will have it so, |
For some displeasing service I have done, |
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood |
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me; |
But thou dost in thy passages of life |
Make me believe that thou art only mark'd |
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven |
To punish my mistreadings. Tell me else, |
Could such inordinate and low desires, |
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts, |
Such barren pleasures, rude society, |
As thou art match'd withal and grafted to, |
Accompany the greatness of thy blood |
And hold their level with thy princely heart? |
Prince. So please your majesty, I would I could |
Quit all offences with as clear excuse |
As well as I am doubtless I can purge |
Myself of many I am charg'd withal: |
Yet such extenuation let me beg, |
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd, |
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear, |
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers, |
I may, for some things true, wherein my youth |
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, |
Find pardon on my true submission. |
K. Hen. God pardon thee! yet let me wonder, Harry, |
At thy affections, which do hold a wing |
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. |
Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost, |
Which by thy younger brother is supplied, |
And art almost an alien to the hearts |
Of all the court and princes of my blood. |
The hope and expectation of thy time |
Is ruin'd, and the soul of every man |
Prophetically do forethink thy fall. |
Had I so lavish of my presence been, |
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, |
So stale and cheap to vulgar company, |
Opinion, that did help me to the crown, |
Had still kept loyal to possession |
And left me in reputeless banishment, |
A fellow of no mark nor likelihood. |
By being seldom seen, I could not stir, |
But like a comet I was wonder'd at; |
That men would tell their children, 'This is he;' |
Others would say, 'Where? which is Boling-broke?' |
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, |
And dress'd myself in such humility |
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, |
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, |
Even in the presence of the crowned king. |
Thus did I keep my person fresh and new; |
My presence, like a robe pontifical, |
Ne'er seen but wonder'd at: and so my state, |
Seldom but sumptuous, showed like a feast, |
And won by rareness such solemnity. |
The skipping king, he ambled up and down |
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits, |
Soon kindled and soon burnt; carded his state, |
Mingled his royalty with capering fools, |
Had his great name profaned with their scorns, |
And gave his countenance, against his name, |
To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push |
Of every beardless vain comparative; |
Grew a companion to the common streets, |
Enfeoff'd himself to popularity; |
That, being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, |
They surfeited with honey and began |
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little |
More than a little is by much too much. |
So, when he had occasion to be seen, |
He was but as the cuckoo is in June, |
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes |
As, sick and blunted with community, |
Afford no extraordinary gaze, |
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty |
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes; |
But rather drows'd and hung their eyelids down, |
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect |
As cloudy men use to their adversaries, |
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full. |
And in that very line, Harry, stand'st thou; |
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege |
With vile participation: not an eye |
But is aweary of thy common sight, |
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more; |
Which now doth that I would not have it do, |
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness. |
Prince. I shall hereafter, my thrice gracious lord, |
Be more myself. |
K. Hen. For all the world, |
As thou art to this hour was Richard then |
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh; |
And even as I was then is Percy now. |
Now, by my sceptre and my soul to boot, |
He hath more worthy interest to the state |
Than thou the shadow of succession; |
For of no right, nor colour like to right, |
He doth fill fields with harness in the realm, |
Turns head against the lion's armed jaws, |
And, being no more in debt to years than thou, |
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on |
To bloody battles and to bruising arms. |
What never-dying honour hath he got |
Against renowned Douglas! whose high deeds, |
Whose hot incursions and great name in arms, |
Holds from all soldiers chief majority, |
And military title capital, |
Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ. |
Thrice hath this Hotspur, Mars in swathling clothes, |
This infant warrior, in his enterprises |
Discomfited great Douglas; ta'en him once, |
Enlarged him and made a friend of him, |
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up |
And shake the peace and safety of our throne. |
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland, |
The Archbishop's Grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, |
Capitulate against us and are up. |
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? |
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, |
Which art my near'st and dearest enemy? |
Thou that art like enough, through vassal fear, |
Base inclination, and the start of spleen, |
To fight against me under Percy's pay, |
To dog his heels, and curtsy at his frowns, |
To show how much thou art degenerate. |
Prince. Do not think so; you shall not find it so: |
And God forgive them, that so much have sway'd |
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! |
I will redeem all this on Percy's head, |
And in the closing of some glorious day |
Be bold to tell you that I am your son; |
When I will wear a garment all of blood |
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, |
Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it: |
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights, |
That this same child of honour and renown, |
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, |
And your unthought-of Harry chance to meet. |
For every honour sitting on his helm,— |
Would they were multitudes, and on my head |
My shames redoubled!—for the time will come |
That I shall make this northern youth exchange |
His glorious deeds for my indignities. |
Percy is but my factor, good my lord, |
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; |
And I will call him to so strict account |
That he shall render every glory up, |
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, |
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. |
This, in the name of God, I promise here: |
The which, if he be pleas'd I shall perform, |
I do beseech your majesty may salve |
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: |
If not, the end of life cancels all bands, |
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths |
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. |
K. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in this: |
Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein. |
|
Enter SIR WALTER BLUNT. |
How now, good Blunt! thy looks are full of speed. |
Blunt. So hath the business that I come to speak of. |
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word |
That Douglas and the English rebels met, |
The eleventh of this month at Shrewsbury. |
A mighty and a fearful head they are,— |
If promises be kept on every hand,— |
As ever offer'd foul play in a state. |
K. Hen. The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day, |
With him my son, Lord John of Lancaster; |
For this advertisement is five days old. |
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward; |
On Thursday we ourselves will march: our meeting |
Is Bridgenorth; and Harry, you shall march |
Through Gloucestershire; by which account, |
Our business valued, some twelve days hence |
Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet. |
Our hands are full of business: let's away; |
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. [Exeunt. |
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