King Henry IV, Part 2 | Page 5

that noble
Worcester
Too soon ta'en prisoner; and that furious Scot,
The
bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring sword
Had three times slain
the 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 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,
Having been well, that
would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made
me well:
And as the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd 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,
Weaken'd 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 quoif!
Thou 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 the
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 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!
TRAVERS.
This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
LORD BARDOLPH.
Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your
honour.
MORTON.
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 the event of war, my noble lord,
And summ'd 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 walk'd 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 befallen,
Or what hath this bold enterprise brought
forth,
More than that being which was like to be?
LORD BARDOLPH.
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 ventured, for the gain proposed

Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd;
And since we are o'erset,
venture again.
Come, we will put forth, body and goods.
MORTON.
'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 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, 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:
Supposed
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, 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
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.]
SCENE II. London. A street.
[Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.]
FALSTAFF.
Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
PAGE.
He said, sir, the water itself was a good healthy water; but,
for the party that owed it, he might have moe diseases than he knew
for.
FALSTAFF.
Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me: the brain of

this foolish-compounded clay, man, is not able to invent any thing
that tends to laughter, more than I invent or is invented on me: I am not
only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. I do here
walk before thee like a sow that hath overwhelmed all her litter but one.

If the prince put thee into my service for any other reason than to set
me off, why then I have no judgement. Thou whoreson