Читать книгу The First Part of King Henry the Fourth - Уильям Шекспир, William Szekspir, the Simon Studio - Страница 2

  King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,

    Find we a time for frighted peace to pant

    And breathe short-winded accents of new broils

    To be commenc'd in stronds afar remote.

    No more the thirsty entrance of this soil

    Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood.

    No more shall trenching war channel her fields,

    Nor Bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs

    Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes

    Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,

    All of one nature, of one substance bred,

    Did lately meet in the intestine shock

    And furious close of civil butchery,

    Shall now in mutual well-beseeming ranks

    March all one way and be no more oppos'd

    Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies.

    The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,

    No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,

    As far as to the sepulchre of Christ-

    Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross

    We are impressed and engag'd to fight-

    Forthwith a power of English shall we levy,

    Whose arms were moulded in their mother's womb

    To chase these pagans in those holy fields

    Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet

    Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd

    For our advantage on the bitter cross.

    But this our purpose now is twelvemonth old,

    And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go.

    Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear

    Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,

    What yesternight our Council did decree

    In forwarding this dear expedience.

  West. My liege, this haste was hot in question

    And many limits of the charge set down

    But yesternight; when all athwart there came

    A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news;

    Whose worst was that the noble Mortimer,

    Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight

    Against the irregular and wild Glendower,

    Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,

    A thousand of his people butchered;

    Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,

    Such beastly shameless transformation,

    By those Welshwomen done as may not be

    Without much shame retold or spoken of.

  King. It seems then that the tidings of this broil

    Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

  West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious lord;

    For more uneven and unwelcome news

    Came from the North, and thus it did import:

    On Holy-rood Day the gallant Hotspur there,

    Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,

    That ever-valiant and approved Scot,

    At Holmedon met,

    Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;

    As by discharge of their artillery

    And shape of likelihood the news was told;

    For he that brought them, in the very heat

    And pride of their contention did take horse,

    Uncertain of the issue any way.

  King. Here is a dear, a true-industrious friend,

    Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,

    Stain'd with the variation of each soil

    Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours,

    And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.

    The Earl of Douglas is discomfited;

    Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,

    Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see

    On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took

    Mordake Earl of Fife and eldest son

    To beaten Douglas, and the Earl of Athol,

    Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.

    And is not this an honourable spoil?

    A gallant prize? Ha, cousin, is it not?

  West. In faith,

    It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

  King. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sin

    In envy that my Lord Northumberland

    Should be the father to so blest a son-

    A son who is the theme of honour's tongue,

    Amongst a grove the very straightest plant;

    Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride;

    Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,

    See riot and dishonour stain the brow

    Of my young Harry. O that it could be prov'd

    That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd

    In cradle clothes our children where they lay,

    And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!

    Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.

    But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,

    Of this young Percy's pride? The prisoners

    Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd

    To his own use he keeps, and sends me word

    I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.

  West. This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester,

    Malevolent to you In all aspects,

    Which makes him prune himself and bristle up

    The crest of youth against your dignity.

  King. But I have sent for him to answer this;

    And for this cause awhile we must neglect

    Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

    Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we

    Will hold at Windsor. So inform the lords;

    But come yourself with speed to us again;

    For more is to be said and to be done

    Than out of anger can be uttered.

  West. I will my liege. Exeunt.