Henry IV, Pt. 2
Act I, Scene 1
Warkworth . Before Northumberland’s castle .
- Enter the Lord Bardolph at one door .
Lord Bardolph1 - 2
- Who keeps the gate here ho ?
- Enter Porter .
- Where is the Earl ?
- What shall I say you are ?
Lord Bardolph4 - 5
- Tell thou the Earl
- That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here .
Porter6 - 8
- His lordship is walk’d forth into the orchard .
- Please it your honor knock but at the gate ,
- And he himself will answer .
- Enter Henry Percy , the Earl Northumberland , in a night - cap
- and supporting himself with a staff .
- Here comes the Earl .
- Exit Porter .
Earl of Northumberland10 - 14
- 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 Bardolph15 - 16
- Noble Earl ,
- I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury .
Earl of Northumberland17
- Good , and God will !
Lord Bardolph18 - 28
- 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
- Kill’d by the hand of Douglas , young Prince John
- And Westmorland 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 .
Earl of Northumberland29 - 30
- How is this deriv’d ?
- Saw you the field ? Came you from Shrewsbury ?
Lord Bardolph31 - 33
- I spake with one , my lord , that came from thence ,
- A gentleman well bred and of good name ,
- That freely rend’red me these news for true .
Earl of Northumberland34 - 35
- Here comes my servant Travers , who I sent
- On Tuesday last to listen after news .
- Enter Travers .
Lord Bardolph36 - 38
- My lord , I overrode him on the way ,
- And he is furnish’d with no certainties
- More than he haply may retail from me .
Earl of Northumberland39
- Now , Travers , what good tidings comes with you ?
Travers40 - 54
- My lord , Sir John Umfrevile turn’d me back
- With joyful tidings , and being better hors’d ,
- Outrode me . After him came spurring hard
- A gentleman , almost forespent with speed ,
- That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse .
- He ask’d 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 armed heels
- Against the panting sides of his poor jade
- Up to the rowel - head , and starting so
- He seem’d in running to devour the way ,
- Staying no longer question .
Earl of Northumberland55 - 58
- Ha ? Again .
- Said he young Harry Percy’s spur was cold ?
- Of Hotspur , Coldspur ? That rebellion
- Had met ill luck ?
Lord Bardolph59 - 62
- 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 .
Earl of Northumberland63 - 64
- Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers
- Give then such instances of loss ?
Lord Bardolph65 - 68
- Who , he ?
- He was some hilding fellow that had stol’n
- The horse he rode on , and , upon my life ,
- Spoke at a venter . Look , here comes more news .
- Enter Morton .
Earl of Northumberland69 - 73
- Yea , this man’s brow , like to a title - leaf ,
- Foretells the nature of a tragic volume .
- So looks the strond whereon the imperious flood
- Hath left a witness’d usurpation .
- Say , Morton , didst thou come from Shrewsbury ?
Morton74 - 76
- I ran from Shrewsbury , my noble lord ,
- Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask
- To fright our party .
Earl of Northumberland77 - 91
- How doth my son and brother ?
- Thou tremblest , and the whiteness in thy cheek
- Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy arrand .
- Even such a man , so faint , so spiritless ,
- So dull , so dead in look , so woe - begone ,
- 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 .”
Morton92 - 93
- Douglas is living , and your brother yet ,
- But for my lord your son —
Earl of Northumberland94 - 101
- 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 fear’d is chanced . 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 .
Morton102 - 103
- You are too great to be by me gainsaid ,
- Your spirit is too true , your fears too certain .
Earl of Northumberland104 - 114
- 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 ,
- Rememb’red tolling a departing friend .
- I cannot think , my lord , your son is dead .
Morton116 - 146
- 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 outbreath’d ,
- 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 - temper’d courage in his troops ,
- For from his metal was his party steeled ,
- Which once in him abated , all the rest
- Turn’d 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
- That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
- Than did our soldiers , aiming at their safety ,
- Fly from the field . Then was that noble Worcester
- So 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 turn’d 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 Westmorland . This is the news at full .
Earl of Northumberland147 - 171
- 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 - weak’ned 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 ,
- Weak’ned with grief , being now enrag’d 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 !
- That art a guard too wanton for the head
- Which princes , flesh’d 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’ enrag’d Northumberland !
- Let heaven kiss earth ! Now let not Nature’s hand
- Keep the wild flood confin’d ! Let order die !
- And let this world no longer be a stage
- To feed contention in a ling’ring act ;
- But let one spirit of the first - born 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 !
- This strained passion doth you wrong , my lord .
Morton173 - 190
- 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 summ’d the accompt 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 walk’d o’er perils , on an edge ,
- More likely to fall in than to get o’er ;
- You were advis’d his flesh was capable
- Of wounds and scars ; and that his forward spirit
- Would lift him where most trade of danger rang’d ;
- 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 doth this bold enterprise bring forth
- More than that being which was like to be ?
Lord Bardolph191 - 197
- We all that are engaged to this loss
- Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas
- That if we wrought out life ’twas ten to one ,
- And yet we ventur’d for the gain propos’d ,
- Chok’d the respect of likely peril fear’d ,
- And since we are o’erset , venture again .
- Come , we will all put forth , body and goods .
Morton198 - 220
- ’Tis more than time , and , my most noble lord ,
- I hear for certain and dare speak the truth ,
- The gentle Archbishop of York is up
- With well - appointed pow’rs . 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 , constrain’d
- As men drink potions , that their weapons only
- Seem’d 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 .
- Suppos’d sincere and holy in his thoughts ,
- He’s follow’d both with body and with mind ;
- And doth enlarge his rising with the blood
- Of fair King Richard , scrap’d from Pomfret stones ;
- Derives from heaven his quarrel and his cause ;
- Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land ,
- Gasping for life under great Bullingbrook ,
- And more and less do flock to follow him .
Earl of Northumberland221 - 226
- I knew of this before , but to speak truth ,
- This present grief had wip’d 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 .