Henry IV, Part 1

by William Shakespeare

  and long peace, ten times more dishonourable ragged than

  an old-faced ancient; and such have I, to fill up the rooms of

  them that 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 of

  Saint Albans, or the red-nose innkeeper of Daventry. But

  that’s all one, they’ll find linen enough on every hedge.

  Enter the Prince and the Lord of Westmorland

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

  FALSTAFF 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 tonight.

  FALSTAFF Tut, never fear me. I am as vigilant as a cat to steal

  cream.

  PRINCE HENRY 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?

  FALSTAFF Mine, Hal, mine.

  PRINCE HENRY I did never see such pitiful rascals.

  FALSTAFF 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.

  FALSTAFF 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 HENRY No, I’ll be sworn, unless you call three fingers on

  the ribs bare. But, sirrah, make haste. Percy is already in the

  field.

  FALSTAFF What, is the king encamped?

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

  FALSTAFF Well,

  To the latter end of a fray and the beginning of a feast

  Fits a dull fighter and a keen guest.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 3

  running scene 13

  Location: the rebel camp near Shrewsbury

  Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas and 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 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,

  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.

  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 of 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 ours:

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

  The trumpet sounds a parley

  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 heaven 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, 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 lay 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 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,

  Rated my 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

  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

  Some surety for a safe return again,

  And in the morning early shall my uncle

  Bring him our purpose. And so farewell.

  BLUNT I would you would accept of grace and love

  HOTSPUR And’t may be so we shall.

  BLUNT Pray heaven you do.

  Exeunt

  Act 4 Scene 4

  running scene 14

  Location: unspecified; presumably in the Archbishop of York’s palace

  Enter the Archbishop of York and Sir Michael

  ARCHBISHOP OF YORK Hie, good Sir Michael; bear

  this sealèd brief

  Gives a letter

  With wingèd haste to the Lord Marshal,

  This to my cousin Scroop, 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 OF YORK 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-raisèd power

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

  What with the sickness of Northumberland,

  Whose power was in the first proportion,

  And what with Owen Glendower’s absence thence,

  Who with them was rated firmly too

  And comes not in, o’er-ruled 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 OF YORK 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 OF YORK 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, he shall be well opposed.

  ARCHBISHOP OF YORK 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

  Act 5 Scene 1

  running scene 15

  Location: the king’s camp near Shrewsbury

  Enter the King, Prince of Wales, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Westmorland, Sir Walter Blunt and Falstaff

  KING HENRY IV How bloodily the sun begins to peer

  Above yon busky hill! The day looks pale

  At his distemperature.

  PRINCE HENRY The southern wind

  Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,

  And by his hollow whistling in the leaves

  Foretells a tempest and a blust’ring day.

  KING HENRY IV Then with the losers let it sympathize,

  For nothing can seem foul to those that win.

  The trumpet sounds

  Enter Worcester [and Vernon]

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

  That you and I should meet upon such terms

  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

  This churlish knot of all-abhorrèd 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 broachèd 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 do protest,

  I have not sought the day of this dislike.

  KING HENRY IV You have not sought it? How comes it, then?

  FALSTAFF Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

  PRINCE HENRY Peace, chewet, peace!

  WORCESTER 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 danger of the time. You swore to us,

  And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,

  That you did nothing of 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 wanton time,

  The seeming sufferances that you had borne,

  And the contrarious winds that held the king

  So long in the 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

  Out of your sight and raise this present head,

  Whereby we stand opposàd 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 IV These things indeed you have articulated,

  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 HENRY 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

  In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes —

  This present enterprise set off his head —

  I do not think a braver gentleman,

  More active-valiant or more valiant-young,

  More daring or more bold, is now alive

  To grace this latter age with noble deeds.

  For my part, I may speak it to my shame,

  I have a truant been to chivalry,

  And so I hear he doth account me too.

  Yet this before my father’s majesty:

  I am content that he shall take the odds

  Of his great name and estimation,

  And will, to save the blood on either side,

  Try fortune with him in a single fight.

  KING HENRY IV And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,

  Albeit considerations infinite

  Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no,

  We love our people well; even those we love

  That are misled upon your cousin’s part.

  And, will they take the offer of our grace,

  Both he and they and you, yea, every man

  Shall be my friend again and I’ll be his.

  So tell your cousin, and bring me word

  What he will do. But if he will not yield,

  Rebuke and dread correction wait on us

  And they shall do their office. So, be gone,