Henry IV, Part 2: Act 4

My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have received
New-dated letters from Northumberland,
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus...

My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have received
New-dated letters from Northumberland,
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus...

Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
As might hold sortance with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers
That your attempts may overlive the hazard
And fearful meeting of their opposite.

If that rebellion
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
And countenanced by boys and beggary...

Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boist’rous tongue of war,
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?

Briefly, to this end: we are all diseased
And with our surfeiting and wanton hours
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it; of which disease
Our late King Richard, being infected, died.

What peer hath been suborned to grate on you,
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forged rebellion with a seal divine
And consecrate commotion’s bitter edge?

What peer hath been suborned to grate on you,
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forged rebellion with a seal divine
And consecrate commotion’s bitter edge?

O, my good Lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed it is the time,
And not the King, that doth you injuries.

His own life hung upon the staff he threw—
Then threw he down himself and all their lives
That by indictment and by dint of sword
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

The Earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman.

But this is mere digression from my purpose.

Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.

We shall be winnowed with so rough a wind
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.

No, no, my lord. Note this: the King is weary
Of dainty and such picking grievances

And therefore will he wipe his tables clean
And keep no telltale to his memory
That may repeat and history his loss
To new remembrance.

’Tis very true,
And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal,
If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.

I like them all, and do allow them well,
And swear here by the honor of my blood
My father’s purposes have been mistook,
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning and authority.

And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have coped withal.

I have foundered ninescore and odd posts, and here, travel-tainted as I am, have in my pure and immaculate valor taken Sir John Colevile of the Dale, a most furious knight and valorous enemy.

And I beseech your Grace let it be booked with the rest of this day’s deeds, or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top on ’t, Colevile kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt twopences to me, and I in the clear sky of fame o’ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element (which show like pins’ heads to her), believe not the word of the noble.

I know not how they sold themselves, but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis, and I thank thee for thee.

The second property of your excellent sherris is the warming of the blood, which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice.

It illumineth the face, which as a beacon gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage, and this valor comes of sherris.

I have him already temp’ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him.

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth

’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion.

Sleep with it now;
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet
As he whose brow with homely biggen bound
Snores out the watch of night.

Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.

My lord, I found the Prince in the next room,
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks,
With such a deep demeanor in great sorrow
That tyranny, which never quaffed but blood,
Would, by beholding him, have washed his knife
With gentle eyedrops.

Thy life did manifest thou loved’st me not,
And thou wilt have me die assured of it.

Thou hid’st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts,
Whom thou hast whetted on thy stony heart
To stab at half an hour of my life.

Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance,
Revel the night, rob, murder, and commit
The oldest sins the newest kind of ways?

If I affect it more
Than as your honor and as your renown,
Let me no more from this obedience rise,
Which my most inward true and duteous spirit
Teacheth this prostrate and exterior bending.

If I do feign,
O, let me in my present wildness die
And never live to show th’ incredulous world
The noble change that I have purposèd.

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead,
And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,
I spake unto this crown as having sense,
And thus upbraided it: “The care on thee depending
Hath fed upon the body of my father;
Therefore thou best of gold art worst of gold...."

Other, less fine in carat, is more precious,
Preserving life in med’cine potable;
But thou, most fine, most honored, most renowned,
Hast eat thy bearer up.

Let God forever keep it from my head
And make me as the poorest vassal is
That doth with awe and terror kneel to it.

Doth any name particular belong
Unto the lodging where I first did swoon?