Lady Percy, Wife to Hot-fpur.
Lady Mortimer, Daughter to Glendower, and Wife to Mortimer.
Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, twe Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants.
The FIRST PART of
HENRY IV.
Enter King Henry, Lord John of Lancaster, Earl of Weftmorland, and others.
O fhaken as we are, fo wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe fhort-winded accents of new
To be commenc'd in ftronds afar remote.. No more the thirsty entrance of this foil Shall dawb her lips with her own children's blood :. No more fhall trenching war channel her fields,, Nor bruife her flowrets with the armed hoofs Of hoftile paces. Thofe oppofed eyes Which like the meteors of a troubled heav'n,, All of one nature, of one fubftance bred,
Did lately meet in the inteftine shock
And furious clofe of civil butchery,
Shall now in mutual well-befeeming ranks
March all one way, and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-fheathed knife,
No more fhall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the fepulchre of Chrift,
(Whofe foldier now, under whose bleffed cross
We are impreffed, and engag'd to fight)
Forthwith a power of English fhall we levy;
Whofe arms were moulded in their mother's womb,
To chase these pagans, in thofe holy fields
Over whofe acres walk'd thofe bleffed feet
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter Crofs.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootlefs 'tis to tell you we will go:
Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear,
Of you my gentle coufin Weftmorland,
What yefternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.
Weft. My Liege, this hafte was hot in question,
And many limits of the charge fet down
But yefternight: when all athwart there came
A poft from Wales, loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against thirregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken;
A thousand of his people butchered,
Upon whofe dead corps there was fuch misuse,
Such beaftly, fhameless transformation,
By thofe Welsh women done, as may not be
Without much fhame, bre told or spoken of.
K. Henry. It feems then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our bufinefs for the holy land.
Weft. This, matcht with other like, my gracious lords Far more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the North, and thus it did import.
On holy-rood day, the gallant Hot-Spur there
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon fpent a fad and bloody hour.
As by discharge of their artillery
And fhape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought it, in the very heat
And pride of their contention, did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.
K. Henry. Here is a dear and true industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain❜d with the variation of each foil,
Betwixt that Holmedon, and this feat of ours:
And he hath brought us fmooth and welcome news.
The Earl of Douglas is difcomfited,
Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty Knights
Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter fee
On Holmedon's plains. Of prifoners, Hot-fpur took
Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son
To beaten Dowglas, and the Earls of Athol,
Of Murry, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize ha, coufin, is it not?
Weft. In faith, a conqueft for a Prince to boast of. K. Henry. Yea, there thou mak'sft me sad, and mak’st me fin,
that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of fo bleft a son:
A fon, who is the theam of honour's tongue :
Amongst a grove, the very ftreighteft plant,
Who is fweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilft I by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour ftain the brow
Of my young Harry. O could it be prov'd,.
That fome night-tripping Fairy had exchang'd
In cradle cloaths, our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet;
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
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