GLYNDŴR Come, you shall have Trent turned.
HOTSPUR
I do not care. I’ll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend;
But in the way of bargain—mark ye me—135
I’ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone?
GLYNDŴR
The moon shines fair. You may away by night.
I’ll haste the writer, and withal
Break with your wives of your departure hence.
I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Exit
MORTIMER
Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!
HOTSPUR
I cannot choose. Sometime he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,
And of a dragon and a finless fish,
A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven,
A couching lion and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 150
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me last night at the least nine hours
In reckoning up the several devils’ names
That were his lackeys. I cried, ‘Hum!’ and, ‘Well,
go to!’,
But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tired horse, a railing wife,
Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer house in Christendom. 160
MORTIMER
In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments, valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 165
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
When you come ’cross his humour; faith, he does.
I warrant you, that man is not alive
Might so have tempted him as you have done
Without the taste of danger and reproof.
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.
WORCESTER (to Hotspur)
In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame,
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite besides his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood—
And that’s the dearest grace it renders you—
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain,
The least of which haunting a nobleman
Loseth men’s hearts, and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation. 185
HOTSPUR
Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed!
Enter Glyndŵr with Lady Percy and Mortimer’s wife
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
Mortimer’s wife weeps, and speaks to him in Welsh⌉
MORTIMER
This is the deadly spite that angers me:
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
GLYNDŴR
My daughter weeps she’ll not part with you.
She’ll be a soldier, too; she’ll to the wars.
MORTIMER
Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy
Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
Glyndŵr speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same
GLYNDWR
She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry,
One that no persuasion can do good upon. 195
The lady speaks in Welsh
MORTIMER
I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh
Which thou down pourest from these swelling
heavens
I am too perfect in, and but for shame
In such a parley should I answer thee.
The lady kisses him, and speaks again in Welsh
MORTIMER
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that’s a feeling disputation;
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learnt thy language, for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer’s bower
With ravishing division, to her lute.
GLYNDŴR
Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
The lady sits on the rushes and⌉ speaks again in Welsh
MORTIMER
O, I am ignorance itself in this!
GLYNDŴR
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference ’twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night 215
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
MORTIMER
With all my heart, I’ll sit and hear her sing.
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
He sits, resting his head on the Welsh lady’s lap⌉
YNDWR
Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,
And straight they shall be here. Sit and attend.
HOTSPUR
Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.
Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap.
LADY PERCY (sitting) Go, ye giddy goose!
Hotspur sits, resting his head on Lady Percy’s lap. The music plays
HOTSPUR
Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh;
And ’tis no marvel, he is so humorous.
By’r Lady, he’s a good musician.
LADY PERCY
Then should you be nothing but musical,
For you are altogether governed by humours.
Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish.
LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
HOTSPUR No.
LADY PERCY Then be still. 235
HOTSPUR Neither—’tis a woman’s fault.
LADY PERCY Now God help thee!
HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady’s bed.
LADY PERCY What’s that?
HOTSPUR Peace; she sings.
Here the lady sings a Welsh song
HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I’ll have your song too.
LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth.
HOTSPUR Not yours, in good sooth! Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker’s wife: ‘Not you, in good sooth!’ and ‘As true as I live!’ and 245 ‘As God shall mend me!’ and ‘As sure as day!’; And giv‘st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou never walk’st further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave ’in sooth’ 250 And such protest of pepper gingerbread To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing.
LADY PERCY I will not sing.
HOTSPUR ’Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. (Rising) An the indentures be drawn, I’ll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.
Exit
GLYNDŴR
Come, come, Lord Mortimer. You are as slow
As hot Lord Percy is on fire t
o go.
By this our book is drawn. We’ll but seal, 260
And then to horse immediately.
MORTIMER (rising) With all my heart.
The ladies rise, and all exeunt
3.2 Enter King Henry, Prince Harry, and lords
KING HENRY
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 marked
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 matched withal and grafted to, 15
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?
PRINCE HARRY
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 charged withal;
Yet such extenuation let me beg
As, in reproof of many tales devised—
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear
By smiling pickthanks and base newsmongers—
I may, for some things true wherein my youth
Hath faulty wandered and irregular,
Find pardon on my true submission.
KING HENRY
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 ruined, and the soul of every man
Prophetically do forethink thy fall.
Had I so lavish of my presence been,
So common-hackneyed 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 wondered at,
That men would tell their children ‘This is he.’
Others would say ‘Where, which is Bolingbroke?’
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven,
And dressed 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 wondered 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 60
With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits,
Soon kindled and soon burnt, carded his state,
Mingled his royalty with cap’ring 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,
Enfeoffed himself to popularity,
That, being daily swallowed 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 drowsed and hung their eyelids down,
Slept in his face, and rendered such aspect
As cloudy men use to their adversaries,
Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou; 85
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege
With vile participation. Not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desired to see thee more,
Which now doth that I would not have it do—
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.
He weeps
PRINCE HARRY
I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
Be more myself.
KING HENRY 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. 105
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 swaddling-clothes,
This infant warrior, in his enterprises
Discomfited great Douglas; ta‘en him once;
Enlarged him; and made a friend of him 115
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 HARRY
Do not think so; you shall not find it so.
And God forgive them that so much have swayed
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, washed 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, 150
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 pleased I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperature;
If not, the end of life cancels all bonds,
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow.
KING HENRY
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 offered foul play in a state.
KING HENRY
The Earl of Westmorland set forth today,
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 Bridgnorth, and, Harry, you
Shall march through Gloucestershire, by which
account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business; let’s away.
Advantage feeds him fat while men delay. Exeunt
3.3 Enter Sir John Oldcastle With a truncheon at his waist⌉, and Russell
SIR JOHN Russell, am I not fallen away vilely since this last action? Do I not bate? Do I not dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like an old lady’s loose gown. I am withered like an old apple-john. Well, I’ll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking. I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent. An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a peppercorn, a brewer’s horse—the inside of a church! Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me. 10
The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works Page 166
