Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 93 (всего у книги 250 страниц)

PRINCE HARRY O villain, thou stolest a cup of sack eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the manner, and ever since thou hast blushed extempore. Thou hadst fire and sword on thy side, and yet thou rannest away. What instinct hadst thou for it?

RUSSELL (indicating his face) My lord, do you see these meteors? Do you behold these exhalations?

PRINCE HARRY I do.

RUSSELL What think you they portend?

PRINCE HARRY Hot livers, and cold purses.

RUSSELL Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. ⌈Exit⌉

PRINCE HARRY No, if rightly taken, halter.

Enter Sir John Oldcastle

Here comes lean Jack; here comes bare-bone. How now, my sweet creature of bombast? How long is’t ago, Jack, since thou sawest thine own knee?

SIR JOHN My own knee? When I was about thy years, Hal, I was not an eagle’s talon in the waist; I could have crept into any alderman’s thumb-ring. A plague of sighing and grief—it blows a man up like a bladder. There’s villainous news abroad. Here was Sir John Bracy from your father; you must to the court in the morning. That same mad fellow of the North, Percy, and he of Wales that gave Amamon the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and swore the devil his true liegeman upon the cross of a Welsh hook—what a plague call you him?

POINS Owain Glyndwr.

SIR JOHN Owain, Owain, the same; and his son-in-law Mortimer, and old Northumberland, and that sprightly Scot of Scots Douglas, that runs a-horseback up a hill perpendicular—

PRINCE HARRY He that rides at high speed and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

SIR JOHN You have hit it.

PRINCE HARRY So did he never the sparrow.

SIR JOHN Well, that rascal hath good mettle in him; he will not run.

PRINCE HARRY Why, what a rascal art thou, then, to praise him so for running!

SIR JOHN A-horseback, ye cuckoo, but afoot he will not budge a foot.

PRINCE HARRY Yes, Jack, upon instinct.

SIR JOHN I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is there too, and one Mordake, and a thousand blue-caps more. Worcester is stolen away tonight. Thy father’s beard is turned white with the news. You may buy land now as cheap as stinking mackerel.

PRINCE HARRY Why then, it is like, if there come a hot June and this civil buffeting hold, we shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails: by the hundreds.

SIR JOHN By the mass, lad, thou sayst true; it is like we shall have good trading that way. But tell me, Hal, art not thou horrible afeard? Thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick thee out three such enemies again as that fiend Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil Glyndŵr? Art thou not horribly afraid? Doth not thy blood thrill at it?

PRINCE HARRY Not a whit, i’faith. I lack some of thy instinct. 375

SIR JOHN Well, thou wilt be horribly chid tomorrow when thou comest to thy father. If thou love me, practise an answer.

PRINCE HARRY Do thou stand for my father, and examine me upon the particulars of my life.

SIR JOHN Shall I? Content. This chair shall be my state, this dagger my sceptre, and this cushion my crown.

He sits

PRINCE HARRY Thy state is taken for a joint-stool, thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown for a pitiful bald crown.

SIR JOHN Well, an the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. Give me a cup of sack to make my eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept; for I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambyses’ vein.

PRINCE HARRY (bowing) Well, here is my leg.

SIR JOHN And here is my speech. (To Harvey, Poins, and Gadshill) Stand aside, nobility.

HOSTESS O Jesu, this is excellent sport, i’faith.

SIR JOHN Weep not, sweet Queen, for trickling tears are vain.

HOSTESS O the Father, how he holds his countenance!

SIR JOHN

For God’s sake, lords, convey my tristful Queen,

For tears do stop the floodgates of her eyes.

HOSTESS O Jesu, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever I see!

SIR JOHN

Peace, good pint-pot; peace, good tickle-brain.—

Harry, I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy

time, but also how thou art accompanied. For though

the camomile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it

grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the sooner it

wears. That thou art my son I have partly thy mother’s

word, partly my own opinion, but chiefly a villainous

trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy nether

lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou be son to me,

here lies the point. Why, being son to me, art thou so

pointed at? Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a

micher, and eat btackberries?—A question not to be

asked. Shall the son of England prove a thief, and take

purses?—A question to be asked. There is a thing,

Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is known

to many in our land by the name of pitch. This pitch,

as ancient writers do report, doth defile. So doth the

company thou keepest. For Harry, now I do not speak

to thee in drink, but in tears; not in pleasure, but in

passion; not in words only, but in woes also. And yet

there is a virtuous man whom I have often noted in

thy company, but I know not his name.

PRINCE HARRY What manner of man, an it like your majesty?

SIR JOHN A goodly, portly man, i‘faith, and a corpulent; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage; and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by’r Lady, inclining to threescore. And now I remember me, his name is Oldcastle. If that man should be lewdly given, he deceiveth me; for, Harry, I see virtue in his looks. If, then, the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speak it—there is virtue in that Oldcastle. Him keep with; the rest banish. And tell me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where hast thou been this month?

PRINCE HARRY Dost thou speak like a king? Do thou stand for me, and I’ll play my father.

SIR JOHN (standing) Depose me. If thou dost it half so gravely, so majestically both in word and matter, hang me up by the heels for a rabbit sucker, or a poulter’s hare.

PRINCE HARRY (sitting) Well, here I am set.

SIR JOHN And here I stand. (To the others) Judge, my masters.

PRINCE HARRY Now, Harry, whence come you?

SIR JOHN My noble lord, from Eastcheap.

PRINCE HARRY The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

SIR JOHN ’Sblood, my lord, they are false. ⌈To the others⌉

Nay, I’ll tickle ye for a young prince, i’faith.

PRINCE HARRY Swearest thou, ungracious boy? Henceforth ne’er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man; a tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend Vice, that grey Iniquity, that father Ruffian, that Vanity in Years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning, but in craft? Wherein crafty, but in villainy? Wherein villainous, but in all things? Wherein worthy, but in nothing?

SIR JOHN I would your grace would take me with you. Whom means your grace?

PRINCE HARRY That villainous, abominable misleader of youth, Oldcastle; that old white-bearded Satan.

SIR JOHN My lord, the man I know.

PRINCE HARRY I know thou dost.

SIR JOHN But to say I know more harm in him than in myself were to say more than I know. That he is old, the more the pity, his white hairs do witness it. But that he is, saving your reverence, a whoremaster, that I utterly deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked. If to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is damned. If to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s lean kine are to be loved. No, my good lord, banish Harvey, banish Russell, banish Poins, but for sweet Jack Oldcastle, kind Jack Oldcastle, true Jack Oldcastle, valiant Jack Oldcastle, and therefore more valiant being, as he is, old Jack Oldcastle, Banish not him thy Harry’s company, Banish not him thy Harry’s company. Banish plump Jack, and banish all the world.

PRINCE HARRY I do; I will.

Knocking within. ⌈Exit Hostess.⌉

Enter Russell, running

RUSSELL O my lord, my lord, the sheriff with a most monstrous watch is at the door!

SIR JOHN Out, ye rogue! Play out the play! I have much to say in the behalf of that Oldeastle.

Enter the Hostess

HOSTESS O Jesu! My lord, my lord!

PRINCE HARRY Heigh, heigh, the devil rides upon a fiddlestick! What’s the matter?

HOSTESS The sheriff and all the watch are at the door.

They are come to search the house. Shall I let them in?

SIR JOHN Dost thou hear, Hal? Never call a true piece of gold a counterfeit—thou art essentially made, without seeming so.

PRINCE HARRY And thou a natural coward without instinct.

SIR JOHN I deny your major. If you will deny the sheriff, so. If not, let him enter. If I become not a cart as well as another man, a plague on my bringing up. I hope I shall as soon be strangled with a halter as another.

PRINCE HARRY Go, hide thee behind the arras. The rest walk up above. Now, my masters, for a true face and good conscience. Exeunt Poins, Russell, and Gadshill

SIR JOHN Both which I have had, but their date is out; and therefore I’ll hide me.

He withdraws behind the arras

PRINCE HARRY (to Hostess) Call in the sheriff. Exit Hostess

Enter Sheriff and a Carrier

Now, master sheriff, what is your will with me?

SHERIFF

First, pardon me, my lord. A hue and cry

Hath followed certain men unto this house.

PRINCE HARRY What men?

SHERIFF

One of them is well known, my gracious lord,

A gross, fat man.

CARRIER As fat as butter.

PRINCE HARRY

The man, I do assure you, is not here,

For I myself at this time have employed him.

And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee

That I will by tomorrow dinner-time

Send him to answer thee, or any man,

For anything he shall be charged withal.

And so let me entreat you leave the house.

SHERIFF

I will, my lord. There are two gentlemen

Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks.

PRINCE HARRY

It may be so. If he have robbed these men,

He shall be answerable. And so, farewell.

SHERIFF Good night, my noble lord.

PRINCE HARRY

I think it is good morrow, is it not?

SHERIFF

Indeed, my lord, I think it be two o’clock.

Exeunt Sheriff and Carrier

PRINCE HARRY

This oily rascal is known as well as Paul’s.

Go call him forth.

HARVEY Oldcastle!

⌈He draws back the arras, revealing Sir John asleep⌉

Fast asleep

Behind the arras, and snorting like a horse.

PRINCE HARRY

Hark how hard he fetches breath. Search his pockets.

Harvey searcheth his pocket and findeth certain papers. He ⌈closeth the arras and⌉ cometh forward

What hast thou found?

HARVEY Nothing but papers, my lord.

PRINCE HARRY Let’s see what they be. Read them.

⌈HARVEY⌉ (reads)

Item: a capon. 2s. 2d.

Item: sauce. 4d.

Item: sack, two gallons. 5s. 8d.

Item: anchovies and sack after supper. 2s. 6d.

Item: bread. ob.

⌈PRINCE HARRY⌉ O monstrous! But one halfpennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we’ll read it at more advantage. There let him sleep till day. I’ll to the court in the morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I’ll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and I know his death will be a march of twelve score. The money shall be paid back again, with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Harvey.

HARVEY Good morrow, good my lord. Exeunt ⌈severally⌉

3.1 Enter Hotspur, the Earl of Worcester, Lord Mortimer, and Owain Glyndŵr, with a map

MORTIMER

These promises are fair, the parties sure,

And our induction full of prosperous hope.

HOTSPUR

Lord Mortimer and cousin Glyndŵr,

Will you sit down? And uncle Worcester?

⌈Mortimer, Glyndŵr, and Worcester sit⌉

A plague upon it, I have forgot the map!

GLYNDŴR

No, here it is. Sit, cousin Percy, sit,

Good cousin Hotspur;

⌈Hotspur sits⌉

For by that name

As oft as Lancaster doth speak of you,

His cheek looks pale, and with a rising sigh

He wisheth you in heaven.

HOTSPUR And you in hell,

As oft as he hears Owain Glyndŵr spoke of.

GLYNDŴR

I cannot blame him. At my nativity

The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,

Of burning cressets; and at my birth

The frame and huge foundation of the earth

Shaked like a coward.

HOTSPUR Why, so it would have done

At the same season if your mother’s cat

Had but kittened, though yourself had never been

born.

GLYNDŴR

I say the earth did shake when I was born.

HOTSPUR

And I say the earth was not of my mind

If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

GLYNDŴR

The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble—

HOTSPUR

O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,

And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth

In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth

Is with a kind of colic pinched and vexed

By the imprisoning of unruly wind

Within her womb, which for enlargement striving

Shakes the old beldam earth, and topples down

Steeples and moss-grown towers. At your birth

Our grandam earth, having this distemp’rature,

In passion shook.

GLYNDŴR Cousin, of many men

I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave

To tell you once again that at my birth

The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,

The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds

Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields.

These signs have marked me extraordinary,

And all the courses of my life do show

I am not in the roll of commen men.

Where is he living, clipped in with the sea

That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,

Which calls me pupil or hath read to me?

And bring him out that is but woman’s son

Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,

And hold me pace in deep experiments.

HOTSPUR standíng⌉

I think there’s no man speaketh better Welsh.

I’ll to dinner.

MORTIMER

Peace, cousin Percy, you will make him mad.

GLYNDŴR

I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

HOTSPUR

Why, so can I, or so can any man;

But will they come when you do call for them?

GLYNDŴR

Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil.

HOTSPUR

And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,

By telling truth: ‘Tell truth, and shame the devil’.

If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,

And I’ll be sworn I have power to shame him hence.

O, while you live, tell truth and shame the devil.

MORTIMER

Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.

GLYNDŴR

Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head

Against my power; thrice from the banks of Wye

And sandy-bottomed Severn have I sent him

Bootless home, and weather-beaten back.

HOTSPUR

Home without boots, and in foul weather too!

How scapes he agues, in the devil’s name?

GLYNDŴR

Come, here’s the map. Shall we divide our right,

According to our threefold order ta’en?

MORTIMER

The Archdeacon hath divided it

Into three limits very equally.

England from Trent and Severn hitherto

By south and east is to my part assigned;

All westward-Wales beyond the Severn shore

And all the fertile land within that bound—

To Owain Glyndwr; (to Hotspur) and, dear coz, to you

The remnant northward lying off from Trent.

And our indentures tripartite are drawn,

Which, being sealèd interchangeably—

A business that this night may execute—

Tomorrow, cousin Percy, you and I 80

And my good lord of Worcester will set forth

To meet your father and the Scottish power,

As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.

My father, Glyndŵr., is not ready yet,

Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days.

Within that space you may have drawn together

Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.

GLYNDŴR

A shorter time shall send me to you, lords;

And in my conduct shall your ladies come,

From whom you now must steal and take no leave;

For there will be a world of water shed 91

Upon the parting of your wives and you.

HOTSPUR

Methinks my moiety north from Burton here

In quantity equals not one of yours.

See how this river comes me cranking in,

And cuts me from the best of all my land

A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle, out.

I’ll have the current in this place dammed up,

And here the smug and silver Trent shall run

In a new channel fair and evenly.

It shall not wind with such a deep indent,

To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

GLYNDŴR

Not wind? It shall, it must; you see it doth.

MORTIMER

Yea, but mark how he bears his course, and runs

me up

With like advantage on the other side,

Gelding the opposed continent as much

As on the other side it takes from you.

WORCESTER

Yea, but a little charge will trench him here,

And on this north side win this cape of land,

And then he runs straight and even. no

HOTSPUR

I’ll have it so; a little charge will do it.

GLYNDŴR I’ll not have it altered.

HOTSPUR Will not you?

GLYNDŴR No, nor you shall not.

HOTSPUR Who shall say me nay? 115

GLYNDŴR Why, that will I.

HOTSPUR

Let me not understand you, then: speak it in Welsh.

GLYNDŴR

I can speak English, lord, as well as you;

For I was trained up in the English court,

Where, being but young, I framed to the harp

Many an English ditty lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament—

A virtue that was never seen in you.

HOTSPUR

Marry, and I am glad of it, with all my heart.

I had rather be a kitten and cry ‘mew’

Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers.

I had rather hear a brazen canstick turned,

Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,

Nothing so much as mincing poetry.

’Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.

GLYNDŴR Come, you shall have Trent turned.

HOTSPUR

I do not care. I’ll give thrice so much land

To any well-deserving friend;

But in the way of bargain—mark ye me—135

I’ll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.

Are the indentures drawn? Shall we be gone?

GLYNDŴR

The moon shines fair. You may away by night.

I’ll haste the writer, and withal

Break with your wives of your departure hence.

I am afraid my daughter will run mad,

So much she doteth on her Mortimer. Exit

MORTIMER

Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!

HOTSPUR

I cannot choose. Sometime he angers me

With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,

Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,

And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven,

A couching lion and a ramping cat,

And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 150

As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,

He held me last night at the least nine hours

In reckoning up the several devils’ names

That were his lackeys. I cried, ‘Hum!’ and, ‘Well,

go to!’,

But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious

As a tired horse, a railing wife,

Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live

With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,

Than feed on cates and have him talk to me

In any summer house in Christendom. 160

MORTIMER

In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,

Exceedingly well read, and profited

In strange concealments, valiant as a lion,

And wondrous affable, and as bountiful

As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 165

He holds your temper in a high respect,

And curbs himself even of his natural scope

When you come ’cross his humour; faith, he does.

I warrant you, that man is not alive

Might so have tempted him as you have done

Without the taste of danger and reproof.

But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

WORCESTER (to Hotspur)

In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame,

And since your coming hither have done enough

To put him quite besides his patience.

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.

Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood—

And that’s the dearest grace it renders you—

Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,

Defect of manners, want of government,

Pride, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain,

The least of which haunting a nobleman

Loseth men’s hearts, and leaves behind a stain

Upon the beauty of all parts besides,

Beguiling them of commendation. 185

HOTSPUR

Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed!

Enter Glyndŵr with Lady Percy and Mortimer’s wife

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Mortimer’s wife weeps, and speaks to him in Welsh⌉

MORTIMER

This is the deadly spite that angers me:

My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.

GLYNDŴR

My daughter weeps she’ll not part with you.

She’ll be a soldier, too; she’ll to the wars.

MORTIMER

Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

Glyndŵr speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same

GLYNDWR

She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry,

One that no persuasion can do good upon. 195

The lady speaks in Welsh

MORTIMER

I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh

Which thou down pourest from these swelling

heavens

I am too perfect in, and but for shame

In such a parley should I answer thee.

The lady kisses him, and speaks again in Welsh

MORTIMER

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,

And that’s a feeling disputation;

But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learnt thy language, for thy tongue

Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,

Sung by a fair queen in a summer’s bower

With ravishing division, to her lute.

GLYNDŴR

Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.

The ladysits on the rushes and⌉ speaks again in Welsh

MORTIMER

O, I am ignorance itself in this!

GLYNDŴR

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down

And rest your gentle head upon her lap,

And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,

And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,

Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,

Making such difference ’twixt wake and sleep

As is the difference betwixt day and night 215

The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team

Begins his golden progress in the east.

MORTIMER

With all my heart, I’ll sit and hear her sing.

By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.

He sits, resting his head on the Welsh lady’s lap⌉

YNDWR

Do so, and those musicians that shall play to you

Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence,

And straight they shall be here. Sit and attend.

HOTSPUR

Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.

Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap.

LADY PERCY (sitting) Go, ye giddy goose!

Hotspur sits, resting his head on Lady Percy’s lap. The music plays

HOTSPUR

Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh;

And ’tis no marvel, he is so humorous.

By’r Lady, he’s a good musician.

LADY PERCY

Then should you be nothing but musical,

For you are altogether governed by humours.

Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish.

LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken?

HOTSPUR No.

LADY PERCY Then be still. 235

HOTSPUR Neither—’tis a woman’s fault.

LADY PERCY Now God help thee!

HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady’s bed.

LADY PERCY What’s that?

HOTSPUR Peace; she sings.

Here the lady sings a Welsh song

HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I’ll have your song too.

LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth.

HOTSPUR Not yours, in good sooth! Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker’s wife: ‘Not you, in good sooth!’ and ‘As true as I live!’ and 245 ‘As God shall mend me!’ and ‘As sure as day!’; And giv‘st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou never walk’st further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave ’in sooth’ 250 And such protest of pepper gingerbread To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing.

LADY PERCY I will not sing.

HOTSPUR ’Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. (Rising) An the indentures be drawn, I’ll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.

Exit

GLYNDŴR

Come, come, Lord Mortimer. You are as slow

As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.

By this our book is drawn. We’ll but seal, 260

And then to horse immediately.

MORTIMER (rising) With all my heart.

The ladies rise, and all exeunt