Henry IV, Part II by William Shakespeare
Act 1 - Scene 1
Warkworth. Before NORTHUMBERLAND’S Castle
Porter : What shall I say you are?
Porter : His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard.
[p]Please it your
honour knock but at the gate,
[p]And he himself will answer.
Travers : My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back
[p]With joyful tidings;
and, being better hors'd,
[p]Out-rode me. After him came spurring
hard
[p]A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
[p]That stopp'd by me
to breathe his bloodied horse.
[p]He ask'd the way to Chester; and of
him
[p]I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
[p]He told me that
rebellion had bad luck,
[p]And that young Harry Percy's spur was
cold.
[p]With that he gave his able horse the head
[p]And, bending
forward, struck his armed heels
[p]Against the panting sides of his
poor jade
[p]Up to the rowel-head; and starting so,
[p]He seem'd in
running to devour the way,
[p]Staying no longer question.
Morton : I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;
[p]Where hateful death put on
his ugliest mask
[p]To fright our party.
Morton : Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;
[p]But for my lord your
son--
Morton : You are too great to be by me gainsaid;
[p]Your spirit is too true,
your fears too certain.
Morton : I am sorry I should force you to believe
[p]That which I would to God
I had not seen;
[p]But these mine eyes saw him in bloody
state,
[p]Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd,
[p]To
Harry Monmouth, whose swift wrath beat down
[p]The never-daunted Percy
to the earth,
[p]From whence with life he never more sprung up.
[p]In
few, his death--whose spirit lent a fire
[p]Even to the dullest
peasant in his camp--
[p]Being bruited once, took fire and heat
away
[p]From the best-temper'd courage in his troops;
[p]For from his
metal was his party steeled;
[p]Which once in him abated, all the
rest
[p]Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
[p]And as the
thing that's heavy in itself
[p]Upon enforcement flies with greatest
speed,
[p]So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
[p]Lend to this
weight such lightness with their fear
[p]That arrows fled not swifter
toward their aim
[p]Than did our soldiers, aiming at their
safety,
[p]Fly from the field. Then was that noble Worcester
[p]Too
soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
[p]The bloody Douglas,
whose well-labouring sword
[p]Had three times slain th' appearance of
the King,
[p]Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
[p]Of those
that turn'd their backs, and in his flight,
[p]Stumbling in fear, was
took. The sum of all
[p]Is that the King hath won, and hath sent
out
[p]A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
[p]Under the conduct
of young Lancaster
[p]And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
Morton : Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
[p]The lives of all
your loving complices
[p]Lean on your health; the which, if you give
o'er
[p]To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
[p]You cast th' event
of war, my noble lord,
[p]And summ'd the account of chance before you
said
[p]'Let us make head.' It was your pre-surmise
[p]That in the
dole of blows your son might drop.
[p]You knew he walk'd o'er perils
on an edge,
[p]More likely to fall in than to get o'er;
[p]You were
advis'd his flesh was capable
[p]Of wounds and scars, and that his
forward spirit
[p]Would lift him where most trade of danger
rang'd;
[p]Yet did you say 'Go forth'; and none of this,
[p]Though
strongly apprehended, could restrain
[p]The stiff-borne action. What
hath then befall'n,
[p]Or what hath this bold enterprise brought
forth
[p]More than that being which was like to be?
Morton : 'Tis more than time. And, my most noble lord,
[p]I hear for certain,
and dare speak the truth:
[p]The gentle Archbishop of York is
up
[p]With well-appointed pow'rs. He is a man
[p]Who with a double
surety binds his followers.
[p]My lord your son had only but the
corpse,
[p]But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
[p]For that
same word 'rebellion' did divide
[p]The action of their bodies from
their souls;
[p]And they did fight with queasiness, constrain'd,
[p]As
men drink potions; that their weapons only
[p]Seem'd on our side, but
for their spirits and souls
[p]This word 'rebellion'--it had froze
them up,
[p]As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
[p]Turns
insurrection to religion.
[p]Suppos'd sincere and holy in his
thoughts,
[p]He's follow'd both with body and with mind;
[p]And doth
enlarge his rising with the blood
[p]Of fair King Richard, scrap'd
from Pomfret stones;
[p]Derives from heaven his quarrel and his
cause;
[p]Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
[p]Gasping for
life under great Bolingbroke;
[p]And more and less do flock to follow
him.
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