William Shakespeare - King Henry the Fourth, Part 2

William Shakespeare

King Henry the Fourth, Part 2

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Dramatis Personae

RUMOUR, the Presenter.

KING HENRY the Fourth.

His sons

HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, afterwards King Henry V.

THOMAS, DUKE OF CLARENCE.

PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER.

PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER.

EARL OF WARWICK.

EARL OF WESTMORELAND.

EARL OF SURREY.

GOWER.

HARCOURT.

BLUNT.

Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench.

A Servant of the Chief-Justice.

EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND.

SCROOP, Archbishop of York.

LORD MOWBRAY.

LORD HASTINGS.

LORD BARDOLPH.

SIR JOHN COLEVILLE.

TRAVERS and MORTON, retainers of Northumberland.

SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.

His Page.

BARDOLPH.

PISTOL.

POINS.

PETO.

SHALLOW and SILENCE, country justices.

DAVY, Servant to Shallow.

MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, and BULLCALF, recruits.

FANG and SNARE, sheriff's officers.

LADY NORTHUMBERLAND.

LADY PERCY.

MISTRESS QUICKLY, hostess of a tavern in Eastcheap.

DOLL TEARSHEET.

Lords and Attendants; Porter, Drawers, Beadles, Grooms, etc.

A Dancer, speaker of the epilogue.

SCENE: England.

Induction

Warkworth. Before the castle

Enter RUMOUR, painted full of tongues

RUMOUR

Open your ears; for which of you will stop

The vent of hearing when loud Rumour speaks?I, from the orient to the drooping west,Making the wind my post-horse, still unfoldThe acts commenced on this ball of earth:Upon my tongues continual slanders ride,The which in every language I pronounce,Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.I speak of peace, while covert enmityUnder the smile of safety wounds the world:And who but Rumour, who but only I,Make fearful musters and prepared defence,Whiles the big year, swoln with some other grief,Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war,And no such matter? Rumour is a pipeBlown by surmises, jealousies, conjecturesAnd of so easy and so plain a stopThat the blunt monster with uncounted heads,The still-discordant wavering multitude,Can play upon it. But what need I thusMy well-known body to anatomizeAmong my household? Why is Rumour here?I run before King Harry's victory;Who in a bloody field by ShrewsburyHath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,Quenching the flame of bold rebellionEven with the rebel's blood. But what mean ITo speak so true at first? my office isTo noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fellUnder the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword,And that the king before the Douglas' rageStoop'd his anointed head as low as death.This have I rumour'd through the peasant townsBetween that royal field of ShrewsburyAnd this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone,Where Hotspur's father, old Northumberland,Lies crafty-sick: the posts come tiring on,And not a man of them brings other newsThan they have learn'd of me: from Rumour's tonguesThey bring smooth comforts false, worse thantrue wrongs.

Exit

The same.

Enter LORD BARDOLPH

LORD BARDOLPH

Who keeps the gate here, ho?

The Porter opens the gate

Where is the earl?

Porter

What shall I say you are?

LORD BARDOLPH

Tell thou the earl

That the Lord Bardolph doth attend him here.

Porter

His lordship is walk'd forth into the orchard;

Please it your honour, knock but at the gate,And he himself wilt answer.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND

LORD BARDOLPH

Here comes the earl.

Exit Porter

NORTHUMBERLAND

What news, Lord Bardolph? every minute now

Should be the father of some stratagem:The times are wild: contention, like a horseFull of high feeding, madly hath broke looseAnd bears down all before him.

LORD BARDOLPH

Noble earl,

I bring you certain news from Shrewsbury.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Good, an God will!

LORD BARDOLPH

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 BluntsKill'd by the hand of Douglas; young Prince JohnAnd Westmoreland 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 follow'd and so fairly won,Came not till now to dignify the times,Since Caesar's fortunes!

NORTHUMBERLAND

How is this derived?

Saw you the field? came you from Shrewsbury?

LORD BARDOLPH

I spake with one, my lord, that came from thence,

A gentleman well bred and of good name,That freely render'd me these news for true.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Here comes my servant Travers, whom I sent

On Tuesday last to listen after news.

Enter TRAVERS

LORD BARDOLPH

My lord, I over-rode him on the way;

And he is furnish'd with no certaintiesMore than he haply may retail from me.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Now, Travers, what good tidings comes with you?

TRAVERS

My lord, Sir John Umfrevile turn'd me back

With joyful tidings; and, being better horsed,Out-rode me. After him came spurring hardA gentleman, almost forspent with speed,That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse.He ask'd the way to Chester; and of himI did demand what news from Shrewsbury:He told me that rebellion had bad luckAnd that young Harry Percy's spur was cold.With that, he gave his able horse the head,And bending forward struck his armed heelsAgainst the panting sides of his poor jadeUp to the rowel-head, and starting soHe seem'd in running to devour the way,Staying no longer question.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Ha! Again:

Said he young Harry Percy's spur was cold?Of Hotspur Coldspur? that rebellionHad met ill luck?

LORD BARDOLPH

My lord, I'll tell you what;

If my young lord your son have not the day,Upon mine honour, for a silken pointI'll give my barony: never talk of it.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Why should that gentleman that rode by Travers

Give then such instances of loss?

LORD BARDOLPH

Who, he?

He was some hilding fellow that had stolenThe horse he rode on, and, upon my life,Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more news.

Enter MORTON

NORTHUMBERLAND

Yea, this man's brow, like to a title-leaf,

Foretells the nature of a tragic volume:So looks the strand whereon the imperious floodHath left a witness'd usurpation.Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrewsbury?

MORTON

I ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord;

Where hateful death put on his ugliest maskTo fright our party.

NORTHUMBERLAND

How doth my son and brother?

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheekIs apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.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.'

MORTON

Douglas is living, and your brother, yet;

But, for my lord your son--

NORTHUMBERLAND

Why, he is dead.

See what a ready tongue suspicion hath!He that but fears the thing he would not knowHath by instinct knowledge from others' eyesThat what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;Tell thou an earl his divination lies,And I will take it as a sweet disgraceAnd make thee rich for doing me such wrong.

MORTON

You are too great to be by me gainsaid:

Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain.