Rendering faint quittance, wearied and outbreathed,
To Harry Monmouth; whose swift wrath beat down
The never-daunted Percy to the earth,
From whence with life he never more sprung up.
In few, his death, whose spirit lent a fire
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp,
Being bruited once, took fire and heat away
From the best-temper'd courage in his troops;
For from his metal was his party steel'd;
Which once in him abated, all the rest
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead:
And as the thing that's heavy in itself,
Upon enforcement flies with greatest speed,
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's loss,
Lend to this weight such lightness with their fear
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim
Than did our soldiers, aiming at their safety,
Fly from the field. Then was 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.
I am sorry to have to force you to believe
something which I wish to God I hadn't seen;
but I saw him covered in blood with my own eyes,
fighting weakly, exhausted and out of breath,
with Harry Monmouth, whose fierce anger smashed
the brave Percy down onto the ground,
from where he never got up alive.
To be brief, the death of the one whose spirit emboldened
even the dullest peasant in his army,
once it was spread around, took all the passion out of
even his most courageous troops:
his forces took their courage from him,
and once he was gone, all the rest
immediately lost that courage:
and when something becomes heavy with fear
the fear takes full control,
and so our men, heavy with the loss of Hotspur,
became so light with their fear
that arrows didn't fly quicker towards their target
than our soldiers, looking for safety,
ran from the battlefield. Then the noble Worcester
was quickly captured, and that furious Scot,
bloody Douglas, whose energetic sword
had killed three men who looked like the King,
began to lose his courage, and copied
those who were shamefully fleeing, and in his flight,
stumbling with fear, he was captured. To sum up,
the King has won, and has sent
a swiftly moving force to fight you, my lord,
under the leadership of young Lancaster
and Westmorland. This is all the news.
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!
There will be time enough for me to mourn this.
There is medicine in poison; this news,
which would have made me sick if I was well,
as I'm sick, it has to some extent made me well.
Like the wretch whose joints have been weakened by illness,
so that they collapse under the strain like
feeble hinges,
who suddenly erupts like a fire out of
his nurse's arms, so my limbs,
weakened by grief, are now made furious with grief,
and have three times their strength. So away with you, unmanly crutch!
A gauntlet of mail with steel joints
must be the glove for this hand: off with you, invalid's nightcap!
You are too effeminate a protection for a head
which Princes, eager for conquest, want to hit.
Put a helmet on my head, and let's take on
this rough time that spitefulness brings
to bring sorrow to the angry Northumberland!
Let heaven fall down to earth! Don't let nature
hold back the wild flood! Let all order die!
Don't let this world remain as a stage
where disputes are long drawn out things;
let the spirit of Cain
live in all hearts, so that with everyone being
set on bloody actions the world can come to an end
and darkness will bury the dead!
TRAVERS.
This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.
These hysterical outbursts show you're not yourself, my lord.
LORD BARDOLPH.
Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.
Sweet Earl, do not separate your wisdom and 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?
The lives of all your loving confederates
are depending on you; if you give in
to uncontrolled passion, you will become ill.
You weighed up the reasons for war, my noble lord,
and assessed what the chances were, before you said
“Let us begin.” You knew there was a chance
that in the battle your son might fall:
you knew he was walking through danger, on a knife edge,
&nbs
p; more likely to fall than to succeed;
you knew that it was possible he would receive
wounds and scars and that his bravery
would place him in the most dangerous places.
But you still said, “Go on”; and none of your
fears, however strongly you felt them, could stop
you from ordering the action. So what has happened,
what have these events brought forth,
more than what you expected?
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.
We who participated in this loss
knew that we were taking such a great risk
that the odds of us surviving were ten to one;
and yet we still did it, for the possible gains
outweighed our fear of the likely dangers;
and since we have been beaten, let's try again.
Come, we'll set out again, risking our bodies and our wealth.
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.
It's well past time to do it: and, my most noble lord,
I hear that this is definitely true so I shall say it:
the noble Archbishop of York is rebelling
and has strong forces: he is a man
who has a double hold over his followers.
My lord your son had only the bodies of men
in his forces, just the shadows of them without souls;
for the very word, rebellion, divorced
the actions of their bodies from their souls;
they were unwilling to fight, they did it because they had to,
the same way men take medicine, we only had their weapons
on our side; as for their spirits and souls,
this word, rebellion, had frozen them up,
like fish in a pond. But now the Bishop
has turned rebellion into religion;
as he is thought to be sincere and holy in his thoughts,
he is followed with both body and mind,
and he is gaining followers inspired by
the blood of fair King Richard, scraped from the stones of Pomfret Castle;
his argument and his actions are inspired by heaven;
he tells men that the whole country is bleeding,
gasping for life under the rule of great Bolingbroke;
and both high and low are rushing 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.
I knew about this before; but, to tell the truth,
my recent grief had wiped it from my mind.
Come inside with me; advise everyone
the best way to take revenge and gain our safety:
get couriers, write letters, as quick as you can:
there were never so few people, and we never needed them more.
[Exeunt.]
[Enter Falstaff, with his Page bearing his sword and buckler.]
FALSTAFF.
Sirrah, you giant, what says the doctor to my water?
Sir, you giant, what does the doctor say about my urine?
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.
He said, sir, that it was good healthy urine in itself; but,
for the person who gave it, he might have more diseases than
he had ever heard of.
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 mandrake, thou
art fitter to be worn in my cap than to wait at my heels. I was never
manned with an agate till now: but I will inset you neither in gold nor
silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back again to your master, for
a jewel,--the juvenal, the prince your master, whose chin is not yet
fledged. I will sooner have a beard grow in the palm of my hand than he
shall get one on his cheek; and yet he will not stick to say his face is
a face-royal: God may finish it when he will, 'tis not a hair amiss yet:
he may keep it still at a face-royal, for a barber shall never earn
sixpence out of it; and yet he'll be crowing as if he had writ man ever
since his father was a bachelor. He may keep his own grace, but he's
almost out of mine, I can assure him. What said Master Dombledon about
the satin for my short cloak and my slops?
Every sort of man enjoys mocking me. The brain
of this foolish lump of clay, man, can't
invent anything that causes more laughter than I
cause
or that's caused onmy account; I'm not only witty
myself, but I make other men be witty also. You
see me now like a sow who has crushed
all her litter but one. If the Prince gave me you
as my servant for any other reason than to make
an amusing contrast, I have no judgement. You confounded
midget, you're more suited to be a badge on my cap than
to serve me. I never wore a cameo brooch before,
but I will make one out of you, not in gold or
silver but in some low stuff, and I shall send you back
to your master as a brooch–that juvenile
Prince your master, who hasn't even grown a beard yet. I
am more likely to grow a beard in the palm of my
hand than he is to get one on his cheek; and yet he
doesn't hesitate to say that he has a royal face. God may
finish it when he wants, it hasn't got the hair on it yet. He
may keep it as a pricey coin for a barber will never
make sixpence shaving it. And yet he swaggers about
as if he had been a man since his father was a
bachelor. He can offer his favours to whom he likes,
I can assure him he won't get any of mine. What did master
Dommelton say about the satin for my short cloak and
my breeches?
PAGE.
He said, sir, you should procure him better assurance than Bardolph:
he would not take his bond and yours; he liked not the security.
He said, sir, that you should give him better guarantees of payment than Bardolph:
he wouldn't take his word or yours; he didn't like the security.
FALSTAFF.
Let him be damned, like the glutton! pray God his tongue be hotter!
A whoreson Achitophel! a rascally yea-forsooth knave! to bear a
gentleman in hand, and then stand upon security! The whoreson
smooth-pates do now wear nothing but high shoes, and bunches of keys
at their girdles; and if a man is through with them in honest taking
up, then they must stand upon security. I had as lief they would
put ratsbane in my mouth as offer to stop it with security.
I looked 'a should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin, as I
am a true knight, and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in
security; for he hath the horn of abundance, and the lightness of
his wife shines through it: and yet cannot he see, though he have his
own lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph?
Let him be dammed to hell like the glutton! Please God let his tongue be burnt! Traitorous son of a bitch! A
rascally mealymouthed knave, to encourage a gentleman
to have hopes, and then insist on security! These blasted
Puritans walk around on their high heels with their
bunches of keys on their belts; and if a man has agreed
on an honest bargain with them, then they
start insisting on security. I would just as soon that they put
rat poison in my mouth as to ask me for
security. I sent him orders to send me twenty two
yards of satin, as I am a true knight, and he
demands security! Well, he can sleep securely, for he certainly is being cheated on by his wife and he cannot
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 82