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    The Second Part of Henry the Fourth
    The Second Part of Henry the Fourth
    The Second Part of Henry the Fourth
    Ebook180 pages1 hour

    The Second Part of Henry the Fourth

    By William Shakespeare

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    The plot of the play is based on the struggle of King Henry IV with former allies. The Earl of Northumberland and his influential relatives, to whom the king owes a great deal to the throne, are not satisfied with their position under the new government and are rebelling. In addition to political troubles, Henry IV is tormented by problems of a personal nature: his heir Henry leads a hectic life, spending time in the company of the dissolute fat man Sir John Falstaff and his drinking companions...
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKtoczyta.pl
    Release dateJun 11, 2019
    ISBN9788382002461
    The Second Part of Henry the Fourth
    Author

    William Shakespeare

    William Shakespeare is widely regarded as the greatest playwright the world has seen. He produced an astonishing amount of work; 37 plays, 154 sonnets, and 5 poems. He died on 23rd April 1616, aged 52, and was buried in the Holy Trinity Church, Stratford.

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      Book preview

      The Second Part of Henry the Fourth - William Shakespeare

      Abbey.

      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 unfold

      The 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 emnity

      Under 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 pipe

      Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,

      And of so easy and so plain a stop

      That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,

      The still-discordant wavering multitude,

      Can play upon it. But what need I thus

      My well-known body to anatomize

      Among my household? Why is Rumour here?

      I run before King Harry’s victory;

      Who in a bloody field by Shrewsbury

      Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his troops,

      Quenching the flame of bold rebellion

      Even with the rebels’ blood. But what mean I

      To speak so true at first? my office is

      To noise abroad that Harry Monmouth fell

      Under the wrath of noble Hotspur’s sword,

      And that the king before the Douglas’ rage

      Stoop’d his anointed head as low as death.

      This have I rumour’d through the peasant towns

      Between that royal field of Shrewsbury

      And 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 news

      Than they have learn’d of me: from Rumour’s tongues

      They bring smooth comforts false, worse than true wrongs.

      [Exit.]

      ACT I

      SCENE I. 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 will 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 horse

      Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose

      And 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 Blunts

      Kill’d by the hand of Douglas; young Prince John,

      And 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 certainties

      More 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 hard

      A gentleman, almost forspent with speed,

      That stopp’d by me to breathe his bloodied horse.

      He ask’d the way to Chester; and of him

      I did demand what news from Shrewsbury:

      He told me that rebellion had bad luck

      And that young Harry Percy’s spur was cold.

      With that, he gave his able horse the head,

      And bending forward struck his armed heels

      Against the panting sides of his poor jade

      Up to the rowel-head, and starting so

      He 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 rebellion

      Had 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 point

      I’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 stolen

      The 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 flood

      Hath 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 mask

      To fright our party.

      NORTHUMBERLAND.

      How doth my son and brother?

      Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek

      Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.

      Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless,

      So dull, so dread 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 know

      Hath by instinct knowledge from others’ eyes

      That what he fear’d is chanced. Yet speak, Morton;

      Tell thou an earl his divination lies,

      And I will take it as a sweet disgrace

      And 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.

      NORTHUMBERLAND.

      Yet, for all this, say not that Percy’s dead.

      I see a strange confession in thine eye;

      Thou shakest thy head and hold’st it fear or sin

      To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so;

      The tongue offends not that reports his death:

      And he doth sin that doth belie the dead,

      Not he which says the dead is not alive

      Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news

      Hath but a losing office, and his tongue

      Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,

      Remember’d tolling a departing friend.

      LORD BARDOLPH.

      I cannot think, my lord, your son is dead.

      MORTON.

      I am sorry I should force you to believe

      That which I would to God I had not seen;

      But these mine eyes saw him in bloody state,

      Rendering faint quittance, wearied

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