payment page
Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial
Already have an account? Log in
Original Text |
Modern Text |
|
Enter LORD BARDOLPH
|
Enter LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho?
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho?
|
|
Enter the PORTER
|
Enter the PORTER
|
|
Where is the Earl?
|
Where is the Earl?
|
|
PORTER What shall I say you are?
|
PORTER What shall I say you are?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
|
|
PORTER His lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
5 Please it your Honor knock but at the gate
And he himself will answer.
|
PORTER His lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
Please it your Honor knock but at the gate
And he himself will answer.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Enter
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Enter
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl.
|
|
Exit PORTER
|
Exit PORTER
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild. Contention, like a horse
10 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild. Contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will!
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will!
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish.
15 The King is almost wounded to the death,
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
20 And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar’s fortunes.
|
LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish.
The King is almost wounded to the death,
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar’s fortunes.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
25 Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely rendered me these news for true.
|
LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely rendered me these news for true.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent
30 On Tuesday last to listen after news.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
|
|
Enter TRAVERS
|
Enter TRAVERS
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I overrode him on the way;
And he is furnished with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I overrode him on the way;
And he is furnished with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
|
|
TRAVERS 35 My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
With joyful tidings and, being better horsed,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
40 He asked the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck
And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head
45 And, bending forward, struck his armèd heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
He seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
|
TRAVERS My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
With joyful tidings and, being better horsed,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He asked the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck
And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head
And, bending forward, struck his armèd heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
He seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again:
50 Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
Had met ill luck?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again:
Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
Had met ill luck?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I’ll tell you what:
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honor, for a silken point
55 I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I’ll tell you what:
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honor, for a silken point
I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on and, upon my life,
60 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
|
|
Enter MORTON
|
Enter MORTON
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness’d usurpation.—
65 Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness’d usurpation.—
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
|
|
MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
|
MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
70 Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night,
75 And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy’s death ere thou report’st it.
This thou wouldst say, “Your son did thus and thus;
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas”—
80 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with “Brother, son, and all are dead.”
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy’s death ere thou report’st it.
This thou wouldst say, “Your son did thus and thus;
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas”—
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with “Brother, son, and all are dead.”
|
|
MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother yet,
85 But for my lord your son—
|
MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother yet,
But for my lord your son—
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes
That what he feared is chancèd. Yet speak, Morton.
90 Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes
That what he feared is chancèd. Yet speak, Morton.
Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
|
|
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
|
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
|
|
MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid,
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
|
MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid,
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND 95 Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye.
Thou shak’st thy head and hold’st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so.
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
100 And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
105 Remembered tolling a departing friend.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye.
Thou shak’st thy head and hold’st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so.
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
Remembered tolling a departing friend.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
|
LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
|
|
MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen,
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
110 Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
115 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best tempered courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steeled,
Which, once in him abated, all the rest
120 Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that’s heavy in itself
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
|
MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen,
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best tempered courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steeled,
Which, once in him abated, all the rest
Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that’s heavy in itself
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
|
|
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
125 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword
130 Had three times slain th'appearance of the King,
Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
Of those that turned their backs and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is that the King hath won and hath sent out
135 A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
|
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword
Had three times slain th'appearance of the King,
Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
Of those that turned their backs and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is that the King hath won and hath sent out
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic, and these news,
140 Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
145 Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs,
Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch.
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif.
150 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th'enraged Northumberland.
155 Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature’s hand
Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
And let this world no longer be a stage
|
NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic, and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs,
Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch.
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif.
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th'enraged Northumberland.
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature’s hand
Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
And let this world no longer be a stage
|
|
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
160 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.
|
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH This strainèd passion doth you wrong, my lord.
|
LORD BARDOLPH This strainèd passion doth you wrong, my lord.
|
|
MORTON Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.
165 The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' event of war, my noble lord,
And summed the account of chance before you said
170 “Let us make head.” It was your presurmise
That, in the dole of blows your son might drop.
You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
You were advised his flesh was capable
175 Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged.
Yet did you say “Go forth,” and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
180 Or what did this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
|
MORTON Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.
The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' event of war, my noble lord,
And summed the account of chance before you said
“Let us make head.” It was your presurmise
That, in the dole of blows your son might drop.
You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
You were advised his flesh was capable
Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged.
Yet did you say “Go forth,” and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
Or what did this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engagèd to this loss
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life, ’twas ten to one;
185 And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
Choked the respect of likely peril feared;
|
LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engagèd to this loss
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life, ’twas ten to one;
And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
Choked the respect of likely peril feared;
|
|
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
|
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
|
|
MORTON 'Tis more than time.—And, my most noble lord,
190 I hear for certain, and do speak the truth:
The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers. He is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse,
195 But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
For that same word “rebellion” did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls,
And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
200 Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and souls,
This word “rebellion,” it had froze them up
As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
Turns insurrection to religion.
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
205 He’s followed both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
210 Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
And more and less do flock to follow him.
|
MORTON 'Tis more than time.—And, my most noble lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth:
The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers. He is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse,
But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
For that same word “rebellion” did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls,
And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and souls,
This word “rebellion,” it had froze them up
As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
Turns insurrection to religion.
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He’s followed both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
And more and less do flock to follow him.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me and counsel every man
215 The aptest way for safety and revenge.
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
Never so few, and never yet more need.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety and revenge.
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
Never so few, and never yet more need.
|
|
Exeunt
|
Exeunt
|
Original Text |
Modern Text |
|
Enter LORD BARDOLPH
|
Enter LORD BARDOLPH
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho?
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who keeps the gate here, ho?
|
|
Enter the PORTER
|
Enter the PORTER
|
|
Where is the Earl?
|
Where is the Earl?
|
|
PORTER What shall I say you are?
|
PORTER What shall I say you are?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Tell thou the Earl
That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.
|
|
PORTER His lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
5 Please it your Honor knock but at the gate
And he himself will answer.
|
PORTER His lordship is walked forth into the orchard.
Please it your Honor knock but at the gate
And he himself will answer.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Enter
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Enter
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Here comes the Earl.
|
|
Exit PORTER
|
Exit PORTER
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild. Contention, like a horse
10 Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND What news, Lord Bardolph? Every minute now
Should be the father of some stratagem.
The times are wild. Contention, like a horse
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose
And bears down all before him.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Noble Earl,
I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will!
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Good, an God will!
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish.
15 The King is almost wounded to the death,
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
20 And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar’s fortunes.
|
LORD BARDOLPH As good as heart can wish.
The King is almost wounded to the death,
And, in the fortune of my lord your son,
Prince Harry slain outright; and both the Blunts
Killed by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John
And Westmoreland and Stafford fled the field;
And Harry Monmouth’s brawn, the hulk Sir John,
Is prisoner to your son. O, such a day,
So fought, so followed, and so fairly won,
Came not till now to dignify the times
Since Caesar’s fortunes.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
25 Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How is this derived?
Saw you the field? Came you from Shrewsbury?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely rendered me these news for true.
|
LORD BARDOLPH I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,
A gentleman well bred and of good name,
That freely rendered me these news for true.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent
30 On Tuesday last to listen after news.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Here comes my servant Travers, who I sent
On Tuesday last to listen after news.
|
|
Enter TRAVERS
|
Enter TRAVERS
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I overrode him on the way;
And he is furnished with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I overrode him on the way;
And he is furnished with no certainties
More than he haply may retail from me.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?
|
|
TRAVERS 35 My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
With joyful tidings and, being better horsed,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
40 He asked the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck
And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head
45 And, bending forward, struck his armèd heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
He seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
|
TRAVERS My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turned me back
With joyful tidings and, being better horsed,
Outrode me. After him came spurring hard
A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,
That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse.
He asked the way to Chester, and of him
I did demand what news from Shrewsbury.
He told me that rebellion had bad luck
And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold.
With that he gave his able horse the head
And, bending forward, struck his armèd heels
Against the panting sides of his poor jade
Up to the rowel-head, and starting so
He seemed in running to devour the way,
Staying no longer question.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again:
50 Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
Had met ill luck?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Ha? Again:
Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold?
Of Hotspur, Coldspur? That rebellion
Had met ill luck?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I’ll tell you what:
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honor, for a silken point
55 I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
|
LORD BARDOLPH My lord, I’ll tell you what:
If my young lord your son have not the day,
Upon mine honor, for a silken point
I’ll give my barony. Never talk of it.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
Give then such instances of loss?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on and, upon my life,
60 Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
|
LORD BARDOLPH Who, he?
He was some hilding fellow that had stolen
The horse he rode on and, upon my life,
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.
|
|
Enter MORTON
|
Enter MORTON
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness’d usurpation.—
65 Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yea, this man’s brow, like to a title leaf,
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume.
So looks the strand whereon the imperious flood
Hath left a witness’d usurpation.—
Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?
|
|
MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
|
MORTON I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord,
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
To fright our party.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
70 Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night,
75 And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy’s death ere thou report’st it.
This thou wouldst say, “Your son did thus and thus;
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas”—
80 Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with “Brother, son, and all are dead.”
|
NORTHUMBERLAND How doth my son and brother?
Thou tremblest, and the whiteness in thy cheek
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,
So dull, so dead in look, so woebegone,
Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night,
And would have told him half his Troy was burnt;
But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue,
And I my Percy’s death ere thou report’st it.
This thou wouldst say, “Your son did thus and thus;
Your brother thus; so fought the noble Douglas”—
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deeds.
But in the end, to stop my ear indeed,
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise,
Ending with “Brother, son, and all are dead.”
|
|
MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother yet,
85 But for my lord your son—
|
MORTON Douglas is living, and your brother yet,
But for my lord your son—
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes
That what he feared is chancèd. Yet speak, Morton.
90 Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Why, he is dead.
See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!
He that but fears the thing he would not know
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes
That what he feared is chancèd. Yet speak, Morton.
Tell thou an earl his divination lies,
|
|
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
|
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace
And make thee rich for doing me such wrong.
|
|
MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid,
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
|
MORTON You are too great to be by me gainsaid,
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND 95 Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye.
Thou shak’st thy head and hold’st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so.
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
100 And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
105 Remembered tolling a departing friend.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s dead.
I see a strange confession in thine eye.
Thou shak’st thy head and hold’st it fear or sin
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so.
The tongue offends not that reports his death;
And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,
Not he which says the dead is not alive.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell
Remembered tolling a departing friend.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
|
LORD BARDOLPH I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.
|
|
MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen,
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
110 Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
115 Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best tempered courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steeled,
Which, once in him abated, all the rest
120 Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that’s heavy in itself
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
|
MORTON I am sorry I should force you to believe
That which I would to God I had not seen,
But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,
Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best tempered courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steeled,
Which, once in him abated, all the rest
Turned on themselves, like dull and heavy lead.
And as the thing that’s heavy in itself
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
|
|
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
125 That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword
130 Had three times slain th'appearance of the King,
Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
Of those that turned their backs and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is that the King hath won and hath sent out
135 A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
|
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur’s loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was the noble Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The bloody Douglas, whose well-laboring sword
Had three times slain th'appearance of the King,
Gan vail his stomach and did grace the shame
Of those that turned their backs and in his flight,
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all
Is that the King hath won and hath sent out
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord,
Under the conduct of young Lancaster
And Westmoreland. This is the news at full.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic, and these news,
140 Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
145 Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs,
Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch.
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif.
150 Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th'enraged Northumberland.
155 Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature’s hand
Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
And let this world no longer be a stage
|
NORTHUMBERLAND For this I shall have time enough to mourn.
In poison there is physic, and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.
And as the wretch whose fever-weakened joints,
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire
Out of his keeper’s arms, even so my limbs,
Weakened with grief, being now enraged with grief,
Are thrice themselves. Hence therefore, thou nice crutch.
A scaly gauntlet now with joints of steel
Must glove this hand. And hence, thou sickly coif.
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head
Which princes, fleshed with conquest, aim to hit.
Now bind my brows with iron, and approach
The ragged’st hour that time and spite dare bring
To frown upon th'enraged Northumberland.
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not Nature’s hand
Keep the wild flood confined. Let order die,
And let this world no longer be a stage
|
|
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
160 Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.
|
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the firstborn Cain
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH This strainèd passion doth you wrong, my lord.
|
LORD BARDOLPH This strainèd passion doth you wrong, my lord.
|
|
MORTON Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.
165 The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' event of war, my noble lord,
And summed the account of chance before you said
170 “Let us make head.” It was your presurmise
That, in the dole of blows your son might drop.
You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
You were advised his flesh was capable
175 Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged.
Yet did you say “Go forth,” and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
180 Or what did this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
|
MORTON Sweet Earl, divorce not wisdom from your honor.
The lives of all your loving complices
Lean on your health, the which, if you give o'er
To stormy passion, must perforce decay.
You cast th' event of war, my noble lord,
And summed the account of chance before you said
“Let us make head.” It was your presurmise
That, in the dole of blows your son might drop.
You knew he walked o'er perils on an edge,
More likely to fall in than to get o'er.
You were advised his flesh was capable
Of wounds and scars, and that his forward spirit
Would lift him where most trade of danger ranged.
Yet did you say “Go forth,” and none of this,
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain
The stiff-borne action. What hath then befall'n,
Or what did this bold enterprise brought forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
|
|
LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engagèd to this loss
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life, ’twas ten to one;
185 And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
Choked the respect of likely peril feared;
|
LORD BARDOLPH We all that are engagèd to this loss
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
That if we wrought out life, ’twas ten to one;
And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed
Choked the respect of likely peril feared;
|
|
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
|
And since we are o'erset, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods.
|
|
MORTON 'Tis more than time.—And, my most noble lord,
190 I hear for certain, and do speak the truth:
The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers. He is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse,
195 But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
For that same word “rebellion” did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls,
And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
200 Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and souls,
This word “rebellion,” it had froze them up
As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
Turns insurrection to religion.
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
205 He’s followed both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
210 Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
And more and less do flock to follow him.
|
MORTON 'Tis more than time.—And, my most noble lord,
I hear for certain, and do speak the truth:
The gentle Archbishop of York is up
With well-appointed powers. He is a man
Who with a double surety binds his followers.
My lord your son had only but the corpse,
But shadows and the shows of men, to fight;
For that same word “rebellion” did divide
The action of their bodies from their souls,
And they did fight with queasiness, constrained,
As men drink potions, that their weapons only
Seemed on our side. But, for their spirits and souls,
This word “rebellion,” it had froze them up
As fish are in a pond. But now the Bishop
Turns insurrection to religion.
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts,
He’s followed both with body and with mind,
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
Of fair King Richard, scraped from Pomfret stones;
Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause;
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land,
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke;
And more and less do flock to follow him.
|
|
NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me and counsel every man
215 The aptest way for safety and revenge.
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
Never so few, and never yet more need.
|
NORTHUMBERLAND I knew of this before, but, to speak truth,
This present grief had wiped it from my mind.
Go in with me and counsel every man
The aptest way for safety and revenge.
Get posts and letters, and make friends with speed.
Never so few, and never yet more need.
|
|
Exeunt
|
Exeunt
|
Test your knowledge
Take the Prologue; Act 1, Scene i Quick Quiz
Read the Summary
Read the Summary of Prologue; Act 1, Scene i.
Shakespeare’s Life & Times
Dive into our comprehensive guide to ace your Shakespeare assignments
Did you know you can highlight text to take a note?
x
