Shakespeare's First Folio · William Shakespeare
Letter.
Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man; No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title; No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font, But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day, That I haue worne so many Winters out, And know not now, what Name to call my selfe. Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow, Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke, To melt my selfe away in Water-drops. Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good, And if my word be Sterling yet in England, Let it command a Mirror hither straight, That it may shew me what a Face I haue, Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough, When I doe see the very Booke indeede, Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe. Enter one with a Glasse.
Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: For when I was a King, my flatterers Were then but subiects; being now a subiect, I haue a King here to my flatterer: Being so great, I haue no neede to begge Bull. Yet aske Rich. And shall I haue? Bull. You shall Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe Bull. Whither? Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues. Exeunt. Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne, Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein, You shall not onely take the Sacrament, To bury mine intents, but also to effect What euer I shall happen to deuise. I see your Browes are full of Discontent, Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares. Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot Shall shew vs all a merry day.
Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face? Open the doore, or I will breake it open. Enter Yorke. Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, Tell vs how neere is danger, That we may arme vs to encounter it Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know The reason that my haste forbids me show Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent me, reade not my name there, My heart is not confederate with my hand Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe. I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King. Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence; Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne: Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, From whence this streame, through muddy passages Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe. Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad, And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame; As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold. Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies: Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.
Dut. A God on earth thou art Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles: Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are: They shall not liue within this world I sweare, But I will haue them, if I once know where. Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu: Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new. Exeunt. Enter Exton and Seruants. Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee spake? Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: Was it not so? Ser. Those were his very words. Ex. Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice, And vrg'd it twice together, did he not? Ser. He did. Ex. And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, As who should say, I would thou wer't the man That would diuorce this terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. Enter. Scaena Quarta. Enter Richard.
Musick Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing. Musicke do I heare? Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Musicke of mens liues: And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare, To heare time broke in a disorder'd string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch, Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is, Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart, Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy, While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke. This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits, In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad: Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard, Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world. Enter Groome.
Groo. Haile Royall Prince Rich. Thankes Noble Peere, The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. What art thou? And how com'st thou hither? Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge That brings me food, to make misfortune liue? Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King) When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke, With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face. O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld In London streets, that Coronation day, When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid, That horse, that I so carefully haue drest Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, How went he vnder him? Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe; That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand. This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe (Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe? Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, Since thou created to be aw'd by man Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. Enter Keeper with a Dish.
Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Enter. Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is stale, and I am weary of it Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe. Enter Exton and Seruants. Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome in hell. Exton strikes him downe. That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand, Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good. For now the diuell, that told me I did well, Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere. Enter.
Scoena Quinta. Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants. Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire, But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. Enter Northumberland. Welcome my Lord: What is the newes? Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse: The next newes is, I haue to London sent The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appeare At large discoursed in this paper heere Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines, And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines. Enter Fitzwaters. Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors, That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy and Carlile. Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue: But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride Bul. Carlile, this is your doome: Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life: So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife: For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene, High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene. Enter Exton with a Coffin.
Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, Vpon my head, and all this famous Land. Ex. From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour. With Caine go wander through the shade of night, And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow. Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, And put on sullen Blacke incontinent: Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after, grace my mourning heere, In weeping after this vntimely Beere. Exeunt. FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second. The First Part of Henry the Fourth with the Life and Death of Henry Sirnamed Hot-Spvrre Actus Primus. Scoena Prima. Enter the King, Lord Iohn of Lancaster, Earle of Westmerland, with others.
Prin. But I doubt they will be too hard for vs Poin. Well, for two of them, I know them to bee as true bred Cowards as euer turn'd backe: and for the third if he fight longer then he sees reason, Ile forswear Armes. The vertue of this Iest will be, the incomprehensible lyes that this fat Rogue will tell vs, when we meete at Supper: how thirty at least he fought with, what Wardes, what blowes, what extremities he endured; and in the reproofe of this, lyes the iest Prin. Well, Ile goe with thee, prouide vs all things necessary, and meete me to morrow night in Eastcheape, there Ile sup. Farewell Poyn. Farewell, my Lord. Exit Pointz Prin. I know you all, and will a-while vphold The vnyoak'd humor of your idlenesse: Yet heerein will I imitate the Sunne, Who doth permit the base contagious cloudes To smother vp his Beauty from the world, That when he please againe to be himselfe, Being wanted, he may be more wondred at, By breaking through the foule and vgly mists Of vapours, that did seeme to strangle him. If all the yeare were playing holidaies, To sport, would be as tedious as to worke; But when they seldome come, they wisht-for come, And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. So when this loose behauiour I throw off, And pay the debt I neuer promised; By how much better then my word I am, By so much shall I falsifie mens hopes, And like bright Mettall on a sullen ground: My reformation glittering o're my fault, Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes, Then that which hath no foyle to set it off. Ile so offend, to make offence a skill, Redeeming time, when men thinke least I will.
2.Car. I thinke this is the most villanous house in al London rode for Fleas: I am stung like a Tench 1.Car. Like a Tench? There is ne're a King in Christendome, could be better bit, then I haue beene since the first Cocke 2.Car. Why, you will allow vs ne're a Iourden, and then we leake in your Chimney: and your Chamber-lye breeds Fleas like a Loach 1.Car. What Ostler, come away, and be hangd: come away 2.Car. I haue a Gammon of Bacon, and two razes of Ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crosse 1.Car. The Turkies in my Pannier are quite starued. What Ostler? A plague on thee, hast thou neuer an eye in thy head? Can'st not heare? And t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to break the pate of thee, I am a very Villaine. Come and be hang'd, hast no faith in thee? Enter Gads-hill. Gad. Good-morrow Carriers. What's a clocke? Car. I thinke it be two a clocke Gad. I prethee lend me thy Lanthorne to see my Gelding in the stable 1.Car. Nay soft I pray ye, I know a trick worth two of that Gad. I prethee lend me thine 2.Car. I, when, canst tell? Lend mee thy Lanthorne (quoth-a) marry Ile see thee hang'd first Gad. Sirra Carrier: What time do you mean to come to London? 2.Car. Time enough to goe to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come neighbour Mugges, wee'll call vp the Gentlemen, they will along with company, for they haue great charge.
Poynes. Stand close, I heare them comming. Enter Theeues againe. Fal. Come my Masters, let vs share, and then to horsse before day: and the Prince and Poynes bee not two arrand Cowards, there's no equity stirring. There's no moe valour in that Poynes, than in a wilde Ducke Prin. Your money Poin. Villaines. As they are sharing, the Prince and Poynes set vpon them. They all run away, leauing the booty behind them. Prince. Got with much ease. Now merrily to Horse: The Theeues are scattred, and possest with fear so strongly, that they dare not meet each other: each takes his fellow for an Officer. Away good Ned, Falstaffe sweates to death, and Lards the leane earth as he walkes along: wer't not for laughing, I should pitty him Poin. How the Rogue roar'd. Exeunt. Scoena Tertia. Enter Hotspurre solus, reading a Letter.
But for mine owne part, my Lord. I could bee well contented to be there, in respect of the loue I beare your house. He could be contented: Why is he not then? in respect of the loue he beares our house. He shewes in this, he loues his owne Barne better then he loues our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous. Why that's certaine: 'Tis dangerous to take a Colde, to sleepe, to drinke: but I tell you (my Lord foole) out of this Nettle, Danger; we plucke this Flower, Safety. The purpose you vndertake is dangerous, the Friends you haue named vncertaine, the Time it selfe vnsorted, and your whole Plot too light, for the counterpoize of so great an Opposition. Say you so, say you so: I say vnto you againe, you are a shallow cowardly Hinde, and you Lye. What a lackebraine is this? I protest, our plot is as good a plot as euer was laid; our Friend true and constant: A good Plotte, good Friends, and full of expectation: An excellent plot, very good Friends. What a Frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my Lord of Yorke commends the plot, and the generall course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this Rascall, I could braine him with his Ladies Fan. Is there not my Father, my Vncle, and my Selfe, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of Yorke, and Owen Glendour? Is there not besides, the Dowglas? Haue I not all their letters, to meete me in Armes by the ninth of the next Moneth? and are they not some of them set forward already? What a Pagan Rascall is this? An Infidell. Ha, you shall see now in very sincerity of Feare and Cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could diuide my selfe, and go to buffets, for mouing such a dish of skim'd Milk with so honourable an Action. Hang him, let him tell the King we are prepared. I will set forwards to night. Enter his Lady.
King. Heauen pardon thee: Yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which doe hold a Wing Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors. Thy place in Councell thou hast rudely lost, Which by thy younger Brother is supply'de; And art almost an alien to the hearts Of all the Court and Princes of my blood. The hope and expectation of thy time Is ruin'd, and the Soule of euery man Prophetically doe fore-thinke thy fall. Had I so lauish of my presence beene, So common hackney'd in the eyes of men, So stale and cheape to vulgar Company; Opinion, that did helpe me to the Crowne, Had still kept loyall to possession, And left me in reputelesse banishment, A fellow of no marke, nor likelyhood. By being seldome seene, I could not stirre, But like a Comet, I was wondred at, That men would tell their Children, This is hee: Others would say; Where, Which is Bullingbrooke. And then I stole all Courtesie from Heauen, And drest my selfe in such Humilitie, That I did plucke Allegeance from mens hearts, Lowd Showts and Salutations from their mouthes, Euen in the presence of the Crowned King.
Hotsp. No more, no more, Worse then the Sunne in March: This prayse doth nourish Agues: let them come. They come like Sacrifices in their trimme, And to the fire-ey'd Maid of smoakie Warre, All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them: The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire, To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh, And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse, Who is to beare me like a Thunder-bolt, Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales. Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse? Oh, that Glendower were come Ver. There is more newes: I learned in Worcester, as I rode along, He cannot draw his Power this fourteene dayes Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of yet Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound Hotsp. What may the Kings whole Battaile reach vnto? Ver. To thirty thousand Hot. Forty let it be, My Father and Glendower being both away, The powres of vs, may serue so great a day. Come, let vs take a muster speedily: Doomesday is neere; dye all, dye merrily Dow. Talke not of dying, I am out of feare Of death, or deaths hand, for this one halfe yeare.
Exeunt. Omnes. Scaena Secunda. Enter Falstaffe and Bardolph. Falst. Bardolph, get thee before to Couentry, fill me a Bottle of Sack, our Souldiers shall march through: wee'le to Sutton-cop-hill to Night Bard. Will you giue me Money, Captaine? Falst. Lay out, lay out Bard. This Bottle makes an Angell Falst. And if it doe, take it for thy labour: and if it make twentie, take them all, Ile answere the Coynage. Bid my Lieutenant Peto meete me at the Townes end Bard. I will Captaine: farewell. Enter. Falst. If I be not asham'd of my Souldiers, I am a sowc't-Gurnet: I haue mis-vs'd the Kings Presse damnably. I haue got, in exchange of a hundred and fiftie Souldiers, three hundred and odde Pounds. I presse me none but good House-holders, Yeomens Sonnes: enquire me out contracted Batchelers, such as had beene ask'd twice on the Banes: such a Commoditie of warme slaues, as had as lieue heare the Deuill, as a Drumme; such as feare the report of a Caliuer, worse then a struck-Foole, or a hurt wilde-Ducke. I prest me none but such Tostes and Butter, with Hearts in their Bellyes no bigger then Pinnes heads, and they haue bought out their seruices: And now, my whole Charge consists of Ancients, Corporals, Lieutenants, Gentlemen of Companies, Slaues as ragged a Lazarus in the painted Cloth, where the Gluttons Dogges licked his Sores; and such, as indeed were neuer Souldiers, but dis-carded vniust Seruingmen, younger Sonnes to younger Brothers, reuolted Tapsters and Ostlers, Trade-falne, the Cankers of a calme World, and long Peace, tenne times more dis-honorable ragged, then an old-fac'd Ancient; and such haue I to fill vp the roomes of them that haue bought out their seruices: that you would thinke, that I had a hundred and fiftie totter'd Prodigalls, lately come from Swine-keeping, from eating Draffe and Huskes. A mad fellow met me on the way, and told me, I had vnloaded all the Gibbets, and prest the dead bodyes. No eye hath seene such skar-Crowes: Ile not march through Couentry with them, that's flat. Nay, and the Villaines march wide betwixt the Legges, as if they had Gyues on; for indeede, I had the most of them out of Prison. There's not a Shirt and a halfe in all my Company: and the halfe Shirt is two Napkins tackt together, and throwne ouer the shoulders like a Heralds Coat, without sleeues: and the Shirt, to say the truth, stolne from my Host of S[aint]. Albones, or the Red-Nose Inne-keeper of Dauintry. But that's all one, they'le finde Linnen enough on euery Hedge. Enter the Prince, and the Lord of Westmerland.
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