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 . It seems then that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land . 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 ? 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 . 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 . My blood hath been too cold and temperate , Unapt to stir at these indignities , And you have found me , for accordingly You tread upon my patience ; but be sure I will from henceforth rather be myself , Mighty and to be fear 'd , than my condition , Which hath been smooth as oil , soft as young down , And therefore lost that title of respect Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud . Worcester , get thee gone ; for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye . O , sir , your presence is too bold and peremptory , And majesty might never yet endure The moody frontier of a servant brow . Tou have good leave to leave us . When we need ‘ Your use and counsel , we shall send for you . Why , yet he doth deny his prisoners , But with proviso and exception , That we at our own charge shall ransom straight His brother-in-law , the foolish Mortimer ; Who , on my soul , hath wilfully betray 'd The lives of those that he did lead to fight Against that great magician , damn 'd Glendower , Whose daughter , as we hear , the Earl of March Hath lately married . Shall our coffers , then , Be emptied to redeem a traitor home ? Shall we buy treason ? and indent with fears When they have lost and forfeited themselves ? No , on the barren mountains let him starve ! For I shall never hold that man my friend Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost To ransom home revolted Mortimer . Thou dost belie him , Percy , thou dost belie him ! He never did encounter with Glendower . I tell thee He durst as well have met the devil alone As Owen Glendower for an enemy . Art thou not asham 'd ? But , sirrah , henceforth Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer . Send me your prisoners with the speediest means , Or you shall hear in such a kind from me As will displease you . My Lord Northumberland , We license your departure with your son. - Send us your prisoners , or you will hear of it . Lords , give us leave . The Prince of Wales and I Must have some private conference ; but be near at hand , For we shall presently have need of you . God pardon thee ! Yet let me wonder , Harry , At thy affections , which do hold a wing , Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors . Thy place in Council thou hast rudely lost , Which by thy younger brother is supplied , 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 soul of every man Prophetically do forethink thy fall . Had I so lavish of my presence been , So common-hackney 'd in the eyes of men , So stale and cheap to vulgar company , Opinion , that did help me to the crown , Had still kept loyal to possession And left me in reputeless banishment , A fellow of no mark nor likelihood . By being seldom seen , I could not stir But , like a comet , I Was wond'red at ; That men would tell their children , ‘ This is he ! ’ Others would say , ‘ Where ? Which is Bolingbroke ? ’ And then I stole all courtesy from heaven , And dress 'd myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men 's hearts , Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths Even in the presence of the crowned King . Thus did I keep my person fresh and new , My presence , like a robe pontifical , Ne'er seen but wond'red at ; and so my state , Seldom but sumptuous , show 'd like a feast And won by rareness such solemnity . The skipping King , he ambled up and down With shallow jesters and rash bavin wits , Soon kindled and soon burnt ; carded his state ; Mingled his royalty with cap'ring fools ; Had his great name profaned with their scorns And gave his countenance , against his name , To laugh at gibing boys and stand the push Of every beardless vain comparative ; Grew a companion to the common streets , Enfeoff 'd himself to popularity ; That , being dally swallowed by men 's eyes , They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness , whereof a little More than a little is by much too much . So , when he had occasion to be seen , He was but as the cuckoo is in June , Heard , not regarded - seen , but with such eyes As , sick and blunted with community , Afford no extraordinary gaze , Such as is bent on unlike majesty When it shines seldom in admiring eyes ; But rather drows 'd and hung their eyelids down , Slept in his face , and rend'red such aspect As cloudy men use to their adversaries , Being with his presence glutted , gorg 'd , and full . And in that very line , Harry , standest thou ; For thou hast lost thy princely privilege With vile participation . Not an eye But is aweary of thy common sight , Save mine , which hath desir 'd to see thee more ; Which now doth that I would not have it do- Make blind itself with foolish tenderness . For all the world , As thou art to this hour , was Richard then When I from France set foot at Ravenspurgh ; And even as I was then is Percy now . Now , by my sceptre , and my soul to boot , He hath more worthy interest to the state Than thou , the shadow of succession ; For of no right , nor colour like to right , He doth fill fields with harness in the realm , Turns head against the lion 's armed jaws , And , Being no more in debt to years than thou , Leads ancient lords and reverend Bishops on To bloody battles and to bruising arms . What never-dying honour hath he got Against renowmed Douglas ! whose high deeds , Whose hot incursions and great name in arms Holds from all soldiers chief majority And military title capital Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge Christ . Thrice hath this Hotspur , Mars in swathling clothes , This infant warrior , in his enterprises Discomfited great Douglas ; ta'en him once , Enlarged him , and made a friend of him , To fill the mouth of deep defiance up And shake the peace and safety of our throne . And what say you to this ? Percy , Northumberland , The Archbishop 's Grace of York , Douglas , Mortimer Capitulate against us and are up . But wherefore do I tell these news to thee Why , Harry , do I tell thee of my foes , Which art my nearest and dearest enemy ’ Thou that art like enough , through vassal fear , Base inclination , and the start of spleen , To fight against me under Percy 's pay , To dog his heels and curtsy at his frowns , To show how much thou art degenerate . A hundred thousand rebels die in this ! Thou shalt have charge and sovereign trust herein . Enter Blunt . How now , good Blunt ? Thy looks are full of speed . The Earl of Westmoreland set forth to-day ; With him my son , Lord John of Lancaster ; For this advertisement is five days old . On Wednesday next , Harry , you shall set forward ; On Thursday we ourselves will march . Our meeting Is Bridgenorth ; and , Harry , you shall march Through Gloucestershire ; by which account , Our business valued , some twelve days hence Our general forces at Bridgenorth shall meet . Our hands are full of business . Let 's away . Advantage feeds him fat while men delay . Exeunt . How bloodily the sun begins to peer Above yon busky hill ! The day looks pale At his distemp'rature . Theft with the losers let it sympathize , For nothing can seem foul to those that win . The trumpet sounds . Enter Worcester How , now , my Lord of Worcester ? ‘ Tis not well That you and I should meet upon such terms As now we meet . You have deceiv 'd our trust And made us doff our easy robes of peace To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel . This is not well , my lord ; this is not well . What say you to it ? Will you again unknit This churlish knot of all-abhorred war , And move in that obedient orb again Where you did give a fair and natural light , And be no more an exhal 'd meteor , A prodigy of fear , and a portent Of broached mischief to the unborn times ? You have not sought it ! How comes it then , These things , indeed , you have articulate , Proclaim 'd at market crosses , read in churches , To face the garment of rebellion With some fine colour that may please the eye Of fickle changelings and poor discontents , Which gape and rub the elbow at the news Of hurlyburly innovation . And never yet did insurrection want Such water colours to impaint his cause , Nor moody beggars , starving for a time Of pell-mell havoc and confusion . And , Prince of Wales , so dare we venture thee , Albeit considerations infinite Do make against it . No , good Worcester , no ! We love our people well ; even those we love That are misled upon your cousin 's part ; And , will they take the offer of our grace , Both he , and they , and you , yea , every man Shall be my friend again , and I 'll be his . So tell your cousin , and bring me word What he will do . But if he will not yield , Rebuke and dread correction wait on us , And they shall do their office . So be gone . We will not now be troubled with reply . We offer fair ; take it advisedly . Hence , therefore , every leader to his charge ; For , on their answer , will we set on them , And God befriend us as our cause is just ! I prithee , Harry , withdraw thyself ; thou bleedest too much . Lord John of Lancaster , go you unto him . I will do so . My Lord of Westmoreland , lead him to his tent . I saw him hold Lord Percy at the point With lustier maintenance than I did look for Of such an ungrown warrior . The King himself , who , Douglas , grieves at heart So many of his shadows thou hast met , And not the very King . I have two boys Seek Percy and thyself about the field ; But , seeing thou fall'st on me so luckily , I will assay thee . So defend thyself . Stay and breathe awhile . Thou hast redeem 'd thy lost opinion , And show 'd thou mak'st some tender of my life , In this fair rescue thou hast brought to me . Make up to Clifton ; I 'll to Sir Nicholas Gawsey . Thus ever did rebellion find rebuke . Ill-spirited Worcester ! did not we send grace , Pardon , and terms of love to all of you ? And wouldst thou turn our offers contrary ? Misuse the tenour of thy kinsman 's trust ? Three knights upon our party slain to-day , A noble earl , and many a creature else Had been alive this hour , If like a Christian thou hadst truly borne Betwixt our armies true intelligence . Bear Worcester to the death , and Vernon too ; Other offenders we will pause upon . With all my heart . Then this remains , that we divide our power . You , son John , and my cousin Westmoreland , Towards York shall bend you with your dearest speed To meet Northumberland and the prelate Scroop , Who , as we hear , are busily in arms . Myself and you , son Harry , will towards Wales To fight with Glendower and the Earl of March . Rebellion in this laud shall lose his sway , Meeting the check of such another day ; And since this business so fair is done , Let us not leave till all our own be won .