THE HISTORY

OFF

KING HENRY THE FOURTH.

ACT: Ius.-SCEN: 1a.

Enter JHON E. of LANCASTER, S WALTER BLUNT, King HENRY, and Attendance.1

King. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,

And breath short winded accents of [new broiles
To be comenc't in stronds afarre remote.2]

No more ye thirsty bosome of this land

Shall wash her selfe in her owne childrens bloud.

No more shall trenching warre channell her feildes,
Nor bruise her flowretts with ye armed hoofes
Of hostile paces. Those opposed eyes,

Which like ye meteors of a troubled heauen,

All of one nature, of one substance bredd,

1

Deryng has transposed the position of "Sr Walter Blunt" and "King Henry," and added the word "bare" after Lancaster.

2 Instead of the part within brackets, Deryng has written "sweete rest."

Did lately meete in ye intestine shocke
And furious close of ciuill butchery,
Shall now in mutuall well-beseeming rankes,
March all one way: and be no more oppos'd
Against acquaintance, kindred and allyes.
The edge of warre, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cutt his master. Therefore freindes
Forthwith a power of English shall we leuy,

Whose armes were moulded in theire mothers wombes,
To chase these Pagans from those holy feildes,
And force proude Mahomett from Palestine.
The high aspiring crescent of yo Turk
Wee'll pluck into a lower orbe. And then
Humbling her borrowed pride to th' English lyon,
With labour a[n]d with honour wee'll fetch here
A sweating laurell from ye glorius East
And plant new iems on royall Englands crowne.
Wee'll pitch our honours att yo sonnes vprise
And sell ourselves or winn a glorious prize.3
But this our purpose now is twelue-month's old,
And bootelesse 'tis to tell
Therefore we meete not now. Then lett me heare

you we will

Of you my gentle sonne of Lancaster,

2

go.

What yesternight our counsell did decree,
In forwardinge this deere expedience.

Lanc. My lieg, this hast was hott in question
And many limitts of the charg sett downe,
But yesternight when all athwart there came

1

1 This line has been erased.

2 Perhaps this should be "Englands royall," but I leave it as it is in the original.

3 These eight lines, printed in Italics, are added on a slip of paper in Deryng's handwriting.

Originally noble.

A post from Wales, laden with heauy newes
Whose worst was: that the noble Mortimer
Leading the men of Herdfordsheere to fight
Against th' irregular and wild Glendower

Was by the rude handes of that Welchman taken
A thousand of his people butchered

Vpon whose dead corps there was such misevse
Such beastly shameles transeformacon

By those Welch-women don: as may not be
(Without much shame) retold or spoken of.

King. It seemes then, that the tidinges of this broylė Brake off our buisines for the Holy Land

Lanc. This matcht with other-like (my gratious lord) Far more vneuen and vnwelcome newes

Came from the North: and thus it did report
On Holy-roode-day: the gallant Hotspur there
Young Harry Percy and braue Archibald

:

That euer valiant & aproued Scote

At Holmedon met: where they did spend
A sad & bloody hower:

As by discharge of there artillary

And shape of likelihood. the newes was told
For he that brought them in the verry heate
And prid of theire contention did tak horse
Vncertaine of the issue any way:

King. Here is a deare & true industrious friend
Sir Walter Blunt: New lighted from his horse
Straind with the variation of each soyle
Betwixt that Holmedon : & this seat of ours

And he hath brought vs smoth & welcome newes

The Earle of Dowglas is discomfited

Ten thowsand bold Scots: two & twenty knights
Balkt in their owne blood did Sir Walter see

On Holmedons playnes: of prisoners Hotspur tooke-
Mordake Earle of Fife & eldest sonne

To beaten Dowglas & the Earle of Atholl
Of Murrey Angus: and Menteith

And is not this an honourable spoyle?

A gallant prize: ha. Blunt1 is it not? in faith it is

Blunt. A conquest for a prince to boast of:

King. Yea: there thou mak'st me sad: & mak'st me sinne

In envy that my lord Northumberland

Should be the father of so blest a sonne :

A sonne, who is the theame of honoures tongue,
Amongst a groue: the very straightest plant
Who is sweet fortunes minion & her pride
Whilst I by lookeing on the praise of hime
See riot and dishonour staine the brow
Of my young Harry: O that it could be prou'd
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle clothes our chilldren where they lay
And cal'd myne Percy: his Plantagenet
Then would I haue his Harry and he myne

But let hime from my thoughts: what think yow Blunt
Of this young Percies prid: the prisoners
Which he in this aduenture hath surpris'd
To his owne vse he keepes, & sends me word

I shall haue none: but Mordake Earle of Fife

Blunt. This is his vnckles teaching: this is Worsester Maleuolent to yow in all respects

Which makes hime prune himeselfe & bristle vp

The crest of youth: against yowr dignity.

King. But I haue sent for hime to answeare this

& for this cause a while we must neglect

Our holy purpose to Jerusalem

On Wednesday next our counsell we will hold
At Winsor, so informe the lords

But come yowr selfe with speed to us agayne