Warkworth. Before NORTHUMBERLAND'S Castle. |
| |
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND, LADY NORTHUMBERLAND, and LADY PERCY. |
| North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle daughter, |
| Give even way unto my rough affairs: |
| Put not you on the visage of the times, |
| And be like them to Percy troublesome. |
| Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no more: |
| Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. |
| North. Alas! sweet wife, my honour is at pawn; |
| And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. |
| Lady P. O! yet for God's sake, go not to these wars. |
| The time was, father, that you broke your word |
| When you were more endear'd to it than now; |
| When your own Percy, when my heart's dear Harry, |
| Threw many a northward look to see his father |
| Bring up his powers; but he did long in vain. |
| Who then persuaded you to stay at home? |
| There were two honours lost, yours and your son's: |
| For yours, the God of heaven brighten it! |
| For his, it stuck upon him as the sun |
| In the grey vault of heaven; and by his light |
| Did all the chivalry of England move |
| To do brave acts: he was indeed the glass |
| Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves: |
| He had no legs, that practis'd not his gait; |
| And speaking thick, which nature made his blemish, |
| Became the accents of the valiant; |
| For those that could speak low and tardily, |
| Would turn their own perfection to abuse, |
| To seem like him: so that, in speech, in gait, |
| In diet, in affections of delight, |
| In military rules, humours of blood, |
| He was the mark and glass, copy and book, |
| That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him! |
| O miracle of men! him did you leave,— |
| Second to none, unseconded by you,— |
| To look upon the hideous god of war |
| In disadvantage; to abide a field |
| Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's name |
| Did seem defensible: so you left him. |
| Never, O! never, do his ghost the wrong |
| To hold your honour more precise and nice |
| With others than with him: let them alone. |
| The marshal and the archbishop are strong: |
| Had my sweet Harry had but half their numbers, |
| To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck, |
| Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. |
| North. Beshrew your heart, |
| Fair daughter! you do draw my spirits from me |
| With new lamenting ancient oversights. |
| But I must go and meet with danger there, |
| Or it will seek me in another place, |
| And find me worse provided. |
| Lady N. O! fly to Scotland, |
| Till that the nobles and the armed commons |
| Have of their puissance made a little taste. |
| Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of the king, |
| Then join you with them, like a rib of steel, |
| To make strength stronger; but, for all our loves, |
| First let them try themselves. So did your son; |
| He was so suffer'd: so came I a widow; |
| And never shall have length of life enough |
| To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes, |
| That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, |
| For recordation to my noble husband. |
| North. Come, come, go in with me. 'Tis with my mind |
| As with the tide swell'd up unto its height, |
| That makes a still-stand, running neither way: |
| Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, |
| But many thousand reasons hold me back. |
| I will resolve for Scotland: there am I, |
| Till time and vantage crave my company. [Exeunt. |
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