The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  Exeunt

  4.2 Enter Sir John Oldcastle and Russell

  SIR JOHN Russell, get thee before to Coventry; fill me a bottle of sack. Our soldiers shall march through. We’ll to Sutton Coldfield tonight.

  RUSSELL Will you give me money, captain?

  SIR JOHN Lay out, lay out. 5

  RUSSELL This bottle makes an angel.

  SIR JOHN giving Russell money⌉ An if it do, take it for thy labour; an if it make twenty, take them all; I’ll answer the coinage. Bid my lieutenant Harvey meet me at town’s end.

  RUSSELL I will, captain. Farewell. Exit

  SIR JOHN If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. I have misused the King’s press damnably. I have got in exchange of one hundred and fifty soldiers three hundred and odd pounds. I press me none but good householders, yeomen’s sons, enquire me out contracted bachelors, such as had been asked twice on the banns, such a commodity of warm slaves as had as lief hear the devil as a drum, such as fear the report of a caliver worse than a struck fowl or a hurt wild duck. I pressed me none but such toasts and butter, with hearts in their bellies no bigger than pins’ heads, and they have bought out their services; and now my whole charge consists of ensigns, corporals, lieutenants, gentlemen of companies—slaves as ragged as Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glutton’s dogs licked his sores—and such as indeed were never soldiers, but discarded unjust servingmen, younger sons to younger brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade-fallen, the cankers of a calm world and a long peace, ten times more dishonourable-ragged than an old feazed ensign; and such have I to fill up the rooms of them as have bought out their services, that you would think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered prodigals lately come from swine-keeping, from eating draff and husks. A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I’ll not march through Coventry with them, that’s flat. Nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on, for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There’s not a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like a herald’s coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my host at Saint Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But that’s all one; they’ll find linen enough on every hedge. 48

  Enter Prince Harry and the Earl of Westmorland

  PRINCE HARRY How now, blown Jack? How now, quilt?

  SIR JOHN What, Hal! How now, mad wag? What a devil dost thou in Warwickshire? My good lord of Westmorland, I cry you mercy! I thought your honour had already been at Shrewsbury.

  WESTMORLAND Faith, Sir John, ’tis more than time that I were there, and you too; but my powers are there already. The King, I can tell you, looks for us all. We must away all night.

  SIR JOHN Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.

  PRINCE HARRY I think to steal cream indeed, for thy theft hath already made thee butter. But tell me, Jack, whose fellows are these that come after?

  SIR JOHN Mine, Hal, mine.

  PRINCE HARRY I did never see such pitiful rascals.

  SIR JOHN Tut, tut, good enough to toss, food for powder, food for powder. They’ll fill a pit as well as better. Tush, man, mortal men, mortal men.

  WESTMORLAND Ay, but Sir John, methinks they are exceeding poor and bare, too beggarly.

  SIR JOHN Faith, for their poverty, I know not where they had that, and for their bareness, I am sure they never learned that of me.

  PRINCE HARRY No, I’ll be sworn, unless you call three fingers in the ribs bare. But sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the field. Exit

  SIR JOHN What, is the King encamped?

  WESTMORLAND He is, Sir John. I fear we shall stay too long. Exit⌉

  SIR JOHN

  Well, to the latter end of a fray

  And the beginning of a feast

  Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest. Exit

  4.3 Enter Hotspur, the Earls of Worcester and Douglas, and Sir Richard Vernon

  HOTSPUR

  We’ll fight with him tonight.

  WORCESTER It may not be.

  DOUGLAS

  You give him then advantage.

  VERNON Not a whit.

  HOTSPUR

  Why say you so? Looks he not for supply?

  VERNON

  So do we.

  HOTSPUR His is certain; ours is doubtful.

  WORCESTER

  Good cousin, be advised. Stir not tonight.

  VERNON (to Hotspur)

  Do not, my lord.

  DOUGLAS You do not counsel well.

  You speak it out of fear and cold heart.

  VERNON

  Do me no slander, Douglas. By my life—

  And I dare well maintain it with my life—

  If well-respected honour bid me on, 10

  I hold as little counsel with weak fear

  As you, my lord, or any Scot that this day lives.

  Let it be seen tomorrow in the battle

  Which of us fears.

  DOUGLAS Yea, or tonight. 15

  VERNON Content.

  HOTSPUR Tonight, say I.

  VERNON

  Come, come, it may not be. I wonder much,

  Being men of such great leading as you are,

  That you foresee not what impediments

  Drag back our expedition. Certain horse

  Of my cousin Vernon’s are not yet come up.

  Your uncle Worcester’s horse came but today,

  And now their pride and mettle is asleep,

  Their courage with hard labour tame and dull,

  That not a horse is half the half himself.

  HOTSPUR

  So are the horses of the enemy

  In general journey-bated and brought low.

  The better part of ours are full of rest.

  WORCESTER

  The number of the King exceedeth our.

  For God’s sake, cousin, stay till all come in.

  The trumpet sounds a parley [within]. Enter Sir Walter Blunt

  BLUNT

  I come with gracious offers from the King,

  If you vouchsafe me hearing and respect.

  HOTSPUR

  Welcome, Sir Walter Blunt; and would to God

  You were of our determination.

  Some of us love you well, and even those some

  Envy your great deservings and good name,

  Because you are not of our quality,

  But stand against us like an enemy.

  BLUNT

  And God defend but still I should stand so,

  So long as out of limit and true rule

  You stand against anointed majesty.

  But to my charge. The King hath sent to know

  The nature of your griefs, and whereupon

  You conjure from the breast of civil peace

  Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land

  Audacious cruelty. If that the King

  Have any way your good deserts forgot,

  Which he confesseth to be manifold,

  He bids you name your griefs, and with all speed

  You shall have your desires, with interest,

  And pardon absolute for yourself and these

  Herein misled by your suggestion.

  HOTSPUR

  The King is kind, and well we know the King

  Knows at what time to promise, when to pay.

  My father and my uncle and myself

  Did give him that same royalty he wears;

  And when he was not six-and-twenty strong,

  Sick in the world’s regard, wretched and low,

  A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home,

  My father gave him welcome to the shore;

  And when he heard him swear and vow to God

  He came but to be Duke of Lancaster,

  To sue his livery, and beg his peace

  With tears of innocency and
terms of zeal,

  My father, in kind heart and pity moved,

  Swore him assistance, and performed it too.

  Now when the lords and barons of the realm

  Perceived Northumberland did lean to him,

  The more and less came in with cap and knee,

  Met him in boroughs, cities, villages,

  Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes,

  Laid gifts before him, proffered him their oaths,

  Gave him their heirs as pages, followed him,

  Even at the heels, in golden multitudes.

  He presently, as greatness knows itself,

  Steps me a little higher than his vow

  Made to my father while his blood was poor

  Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurgh,

  And now forsooth takes on him to reform

  Some certain edicts and some strait decrees

  That lie too heavy on the commonwealth,

  Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep

  Over his country’s wrongs; and by this face,

  This seeming brow of justice, did he win

  The hearts of all that he did angle for;

  Proceeded further, cut me off the heads

  Of all the favourites that the absent King

  In deputation left behind him here

  When he was personal in the Irish war.

  BLUNT

  Tut, I came not to hear this.

  HOTSPUR Then to the point.

  In short time after, he deposed the King,

  Soon after that deprived him of his life,

  And in the neck of that tasked the whole state;

  To make that worse, suffered his kinsman March—

  Who is, if every owner were well placed,

  Indeed his king—to be engaged in Wales,

  There without ransom to lie forfeited;

  Disgraced me in my happy victories,

  Sought to entrap me by intelligence, 100

  Rated mine uncle from the Council-board,

  In rage dismissed my father from the court,

  Broke oath on oath, committed wrong on wrong,

  And in conclusion drove us to seek out

  This head of safety, and withal to pry 105

  Into his title, the which we find

  Too indirect for long continuance.

  BLUNT

  Shall I return this answer to the King?

  HOTSPUR

  Not so, Sir Walter. We’ll withdraw awhile.

  Go to the King, and let there be impawned 110

  Some surety for a safe return again;

  And in the morning early shall mine uncle

  Bring him our purposes. And so, farewell.

  BLUNT

  I would you would accept of grace and love.

  HOTSPUR

  And maybe so we shall.

  BLUNT Pray God you do.

  Exeunt [Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, and Vernon at one door, Blunt at another door⌉

  4.4 Enter the Archbishop of York, and Sir Michael

  ARCHBISHOP (giving letters)

  Hie, good Sir Michael, bear this sealed brief

  With winged haste to the Lord Marshal,

  This to my cousin Scrope, and all the rest

  To whom they are directed. If you knew

  How much they do import, you would make haste.

  SIR MICHAEL My good lord,

  I guess their tenor.

  ARCHBISHOP Like enough you do.

  Tomorrow, good Sir Michael, is a day

  Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men

  Must bide the touch; for, sir, at Shrewsbury,

  As I am truly given to understand,

  The King with mighty and quick-raised power

  Meets with Lord Harry. And I fear, Sir Michael,

  What with the sickness of Northumberland,

  Whose power was in the first proportion, 15

  And what with Owain Glyndŵr’s absence thence,

  Who with them was a rated sinew too,

  And comes not in, overruled by prophecies,

  I fear the power of Percy is too weak

  To wage an instant trial with the King.

  SIR MICHAEL

  Why, my good lord, you need not fear; there is

  Douglas

  And Lord Mortimer.

  ARCHBISHOP No, Mortimer is not there.

  SIR MICHAEL

  But there is Mordake, Vernon, Lord Harry Percy;

  And there is my lord of Worcester, and a head

  Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.

  ARCHBISHOP

  And so there is; but yet the King hath drawn

  The special head of all the land together—

  The Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster,

  The noble Westmorland, and warlike Blunt,

  And many more corrivals, and dear men

  Of estimation and command in arms.

  SIR MICHAEL

  Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.

  ARCHBISHOP

  I hope no less, yet needful ’tis to fear;

  And to prevent the worst, Sir Michael, speed.

  For if Lord Percy thrive not, ere the King

  Dismiss his power he means to visit us,

  For he hath heard of our confederacy,

  And ’tis but wisdom to make strong against him;

  Therefore make haste. I must go write again

  To other friends; and so farewell, Sir Michael.

  Exeunt severally⌉

  5.1 Enter King Henry, Prince Harry, Lord John of Lancaster, the Earl of Westmorland, Sir Walter Blunt, and Sir John Oldcastle

  KING HENRY

  How bloodily the sun begins to peer

  Above yon bulky hill! The day looks pale

  At his distemp’rature.

  PRINCE HARRY The southern wind

  Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,

  And by his hollow whistling in the leaves 5

  Foretells a tempest and a blust’ring day.

  KING HENRY

  Then with the losers let it sympathize,

  For nothing can seem foul to those that win.

  The trumpet sounds a parley within⌉. Enter the Earl of Worcester and Sir Richard Vernon⌉

  How now, my lord of Worcester? ’Tis not well

  That you and I should meet upon such terms 10

  As now we meet. You have deceived our trust,

  And made us doff our easy robes of peace

  To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.

  This is not well, my lord, this is not well.

  What say you to it? Will you again unknit 15

  This churlish knot of all-abhorred war,

  And move in that obedient orb again

  Where you did give a fair and natural light,

  And be no more an exhaled meteor,

  A prodigy of fear, and a portent

  Of broached mischief to the unborn times?

  WORCESTER Hear me, my liege.

  For mine own part, I could be well content

  To entertain the lag-end of my life

  With quiet hours; for I protest, 25

  I have not sought the day of this dislike.

  KING HENRY

  You have not sought it? How comes it, then?

  SIR JOHN Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

  PRINCE HARRY Peace, chewet, peace!

  WORCESTER (to the King)

  It pleased your majesty to turn your looks

  Of favour from myself and all our house;

  And yet I must remember you, my lord,

  We were the first and dearest of your friends.

  For you my staff of office did I break

  In Richard’s time, and posted day and night

  To meet you on the way and kiss your hand

  When yet you were in place and in account

  Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.

  It was myself, my brother, and his son

  That brought you home
, and boldly did outdare

  The dangers of the time. You swore to us,

  And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,

  That you did nothing purpose ‘gainst the state,

  Nor claim no further than your new-fall’n right,

  The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.

  To this we swore our aid, but in short space

  It rained down fortune show’ring on your head,

  And such a flood of greatness fell on you,

  What with our help, what with the absent King,

  What with the injuries of a wanton time,

  The seeming sufferances that you had borne,

  And the contrarious winds that held the King

  So long in his unlucky Irish wars

  That all in England did repute him dead;

  And from this swarm of fair advantages

  You took occasion to be quickly wooed

  To gripe the general sway into your hand,

  Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster,

  And being fed by us, you used us so

  As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo’s bird,

  Useth the sparrow—did oppress our nest,

  Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk

  That even our love durst not come near your sight

  For fear of swallowing. But with nimble wing

  We were enforced for safety’ sake to fly 65

  Out of your sight, and raise this present head,

  Whereby we stand opposed by such means

  As you yourself have forged against yourself,

  By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,

  And violation of all faith and troth

  Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

  KING HENRY

  These things indeed you have articulate,

  Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches,

  To face the garment of rebellion

  With some fine colour that may please the eye

  Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,

  Which gape and rub the elbow at the news

  Of hurly-burly innovation;

  And never yet did insurrection want

  Such water-colours to impaint his cause,

  Nor moody beggars starving for a time

  Of pell-mell havoc and confusion.

  PRINCE HARRY

  In both our armies there is many a soul

  Shall pay full dearly for this encounter

  If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew

  The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world