The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 129

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?

Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will give the devil his due.

Poins. Then art thou d.a.m.n'd for keeping thy word with the devil.

Prince. Else he had been d.a.m.n'd for cozening the devil.

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock early, at Gads.h.i.+ll! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses. I have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves.

Gads.h.i.+ll lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home and be hang'd!

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang you for going.

Poins. You will, chops?

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellows.h.i.+p in thee, nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal if thou darest not stand for ten s.h.i.+llings.

Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.

Fal. Why, that's well said.

Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.

Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

Prince. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go.

Fal. Well, G.o.d give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell; you shall find me in Eastcheap.

Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown summer!

Exit Falstaff.

Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gads.h.i.+ll shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head off from my shoulders.

Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things necessary and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell.

Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit.

Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness.

Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That, when he please again to lie himself, Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.

If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work; But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

So, when this loose behaviour I throw off And pay the debt I never promised, By how much better than my word I am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes; And, like bright metal on a sullen ground, My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault, Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes Than that which hath no foil to set it off.

I'll so offend to make offence a skill, Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit.

Scene III.

London. The Palace.

Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspur, Sir Walter Blunt, with others.

King. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities, And you have found me, for accordingly You tread upon my patience; but be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition, Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down, And therefore lost that t.i.tle of respect Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud.

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it- And that same greatness too which our own hands Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord- King. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye.

O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory, And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow.

Tou have good leave to leave us. When we need 'Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.

Exit Worcester.

You were about to speak.

North. Yea, my good lord.

Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he says, not with such strength denied As is delivered to your Majesty.

Either envy, therefore, or misprision Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.

But I remember, when the fight was done, When I was dry with rage and extreme toll, Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword, Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd, Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home.

He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet box, which ever and anon He gave his nose, and took't away again; Who therewith angry, when it next came there, Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd; And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his n.o.bility.

With many holiday and lady terms He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold, To be so pest'red with a popingay, Out of my grief and my impatience Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what- He should, or he should not; for he made me mad To see him s.h.i.+ne so brisk, and smell so sweet, And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman Of guns and drums and wounds- G.o.d save the mark!- And telling me the sovereignest thing on earth Was parmacity for an inward bruise; And that it was great pity, so it was, This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly; and but for these vile 'guns, He would himself have been a soldier.

This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered indirectly, as I said, And I beseech you, let not his report Come current for an accusation Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Blunt. The circ.u.mstance considered, good my lord, Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest retold, May reasonably die, and never rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now.

King. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with proviso and exception, That we at our own charge shall ransom straight His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd The lives of those that he did lead to fight Against that great magician, d.a.m.n'd Glendower, Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then, Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?

Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears When they have lost and forfeited themselves?

No, on the barren mountains let him starve!

For I shall never hold that man my friend Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer?

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege, But by the chance of war. To prove that true Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds, Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank, In single opposition hand to hand, He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower.

Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Who then, affrighted with their b.l.o.o.d.y looks, Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank, Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants.

Never did base and rotten policy Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Nor never could the n.o.ble Mortimer Receive so many, and all willingly.

Then let not him be slandered with revolt.

King. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him!

He never did encounter with Glendower.

I tell thee He durst as well have met the devil alone As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art thou not asham'd? But, sirrah, henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means, Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you. My Lord Northumberland, We license your departure with your son.- Send us your prisoners, or you will hear of it.

Exeunt King, [Blunt, and Train]

Hot. An if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them. I will after straight And tell him so; for I will else my heart, Albeit I make a hazard of my head.

North. What, drunk with choler? Stay, and pause awhile.

Here comes your uncle.

Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

Zounds, I will speak of him, and let my soul Want mercy if I do not join with him!

Yea, on his part I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the dust, But I will lift the downtrod Mortimer As high in the air as this unthankful king, As this ingrate and cank'red Bolingbroke.

North. Brother, the King hath made your nephew mad.

Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?

Hot. He will (forsooth) have all my prisoners; And when I urg'd the ransom once again Of my wive's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, And on my face he turn'd an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

Wor. I cannot blame him. Was not he proclaim'd By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?

North. He was; I heard the proclamation.

And then it was when the unhappy King (Whose wrongs in us G.o.d pardon!) did set forth Upon his Irish expedition; From whence he intercepted did return To be depos'd, and shortly murdered.

Wor. And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth Live scandaliz'd and foully spoken of.

Hot. But soft, I pray you. Did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer Heir to the crown?

North. He did; myself did hear it.

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve.

But shall it be that you, that set the crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his sake wear the detested blot Of murtherous subornation- shall it be That you a world of curses undergo, Being the agents or base second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?

O, pardon me that I descend so low To show the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this subtile king!

Shall it for shame be spoken in these days, Or fill up chronicles in time to come, That men of your n.o.bility and power Did gage them both in an unjust behalf (As both of you, G.o.d pardon it! have done) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?

And shall it in more shame be further spoken That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off By him for whom these shames ye underwent?

No! yet time serves wherein you may redeem Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again; Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt Of this proud king, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes to you Even with the b.l.o.o.d.y payment of your deaths.

Therefore I say- Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more; And now, I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit As to o'erwalk a current roaring loud On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.