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Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and love.
Hot. And, may be, so we shall.
'Pray Heaven, you do!
SCENE IV. A Room in the Archbishop's House.
Enter the Archbishop of York, and a Gentleman.
Arch. Hie, good sir Michael ; bear this sealed brief,
With winged haste, to the lord mareshal;
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.
Gent. My good lord
I guess their tenor.
Like enough, you do.
To-morrow, 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)
And what with Owen Glendower's absence thence,
(Who with them was a rated sinew too,
Ànd comes not in, o'erruled by prophecies,)-
I fear the power of Percy is too weak
To wage an instant trial with the king.
Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not fear; there's
And lord Mortimer.
No, Mortimer's not there
Gent. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry
And there's my lord of Worcester; and a head
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen.
i Thomas lord Mowbray. VOL. III.
2 A strength on which we reckoned.
Arch. 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 Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt;
And many more corrivals, and dear men
Of estimation and command in arms.
Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be well opposed.
Arch. 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.
SCENE I. The King's Camp near Shrewsbury.
Enter King HENRY, PRINCE HENRY, PRINCE JOHN
of Lancaster, Sir WALTER Blunt, and Sir John
K. Hen. How bloodily the sun begins to peer
Above yon busky? hill! The day looks pale
At his distemperature.
The southern wind
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes ;
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves,
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day.
K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympathize ; For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
Trumpet. 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't? Will you again unknit
This churlish knot of all-abhorred war,
And move in that obedient orb again,
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?
Wor. 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.
K. Hen. You have not sought it! How comes it
Fal. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
P. Hen. Peace, chewet, peace.
Wor. It pleased your majesty to turn your looks
Of favor 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,-
did swear that oath at Doncaster,
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
Nor claim no further than your new-fallen right,
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster.
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space,
It rained down fortune showering 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
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.
K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have articulated,
Proclaimed at market-crosses, read in churches,
To face the garment of rebellion
With some fine color, 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 get did insurrection want
Such water colors, to impaint his cause ;
Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
Of pellmell havock and confusion.
P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many a soul
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.
K. Hen. And, prince of Wales, so dare we venture
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,