Уильям Шекспир - The First Part of King Henry the Fourth стр 2.

    Poins! Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if
men
    were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough
for
    him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried
'Stand!'
    to a true man.
  Prince. Good morrow, Ned.
  Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says Monsieur Remorse? What
    says Sir John Sack and Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and
thee
    about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good Friday last for
a
    cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?
  Prince. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his
    bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs. He will
give
    the devil his due.
  Poins. Then art thou damn'd for keeping thy word with the
devil.
  Prince. Else he had been damn'd for cozening the devil.
  Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four
o'clock
    early, at Gadshill! There are pilgrims gong to Canterbury
with
    rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses.
I
    have vizards for you all; you have horses for yourselves.
    Gadshill lies to-night in Rochester. I have bespoke supper
    to-morrow night in Eastcheap. We may do it as secure as
sleep. If
    you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you
will
    not, tarry at home and be hang'd!
  Fal. Hear ye, Yedward: if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang
you
    for going.
  Poins. You will, chops?
  Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?
  Prince. Who, I rob? I a thief? Not I, by my faith.
  Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in
thee,
    nor thou cam'st not of the blood royal if thou darest not
stand
    for ten shillings.
  Prince. Well then, once in my days I'll be a madcap.
  Fal. Why, that's well said.
  Prince. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
  Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.
  Prince. I care not.
  Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the Prince and me alone. I
will
    lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall
go.
  Fal. Well, God give thee the spirit of persuasion and him the
ears
    of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he
hears
    may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation
sake)
    prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want
    countenance. Farewell; you shall find me in Eastcheap.
  Prince. Farewell, thou latter spring! farewell, All-hallown
summer!

  Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow. I
    have a jest to execute that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff,

    Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill shall rob those men that we have
    already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there; and when
they
    have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head
off
    from my shoulders.
  Prince. How shall we part with them in setting forth?
  Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them and appoint
them
    a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail;
and
    then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves; which
they
    shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.
  Prince. Yea, but 'tis like that they will know us by our
horses, by
    our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.
  Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see- I'll tie them in the
    wood; our wizards we will change after we leave them; and,
    sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our
    noted outward garments.
  Prince. Yea, but I doubt they will be too hard for us.
  Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred
    cowards as ever turn'd back; and for the third, if he fight
    longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of
    this jest will lie the incomprehensible lies that this same
fat
    rogue will tell us when we meet at supper: how thirty, at
least,
    he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he
    endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.
  Prince. Well, I'll go with thee. Provide us all things
necessary
    and meet me to-night in Eastcheap. There I'll sup. Farewell.
  Poins. Farewell, my lord. Exit.
  Prince. I know you all, and will awhile uphold
    The unyok'd humour of your idleness.
    Yet herein will I imitate the sun,
    Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
    To smother up his beauty from the world,
    That, when he please again to lie himself,
    Being wanted, he may be more wond'red at
    By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
    Of vapours that did seem to strangle him.
    If all the year were playing holidays,
    To sport would be as tedious as to work;
    But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,
    And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
    So, when this loose behaviour I throw off
    And pay the debt I never promised,
    By how much better than my word I am,
    By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
    And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
    My reformation, glitt'ring o'er my fault,
    Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
    Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
    I'll so offend to make offence a skill,
    Redeeming time when men think least I will. Exit.

  King. 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.
  Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
    The scourge of greatness to be us'd on it-
    And that same greatness too which our own hands
    Have holp to make so portly.
  North. My lord-
  King. 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.

    You were about to speak.
  North. Yea, my good lord.
    Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded
    Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
    Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
    As is delivered to your Majesty.
    Either envy, therefore, or misprision
    Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
  Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
    But I remember, when the fight was done,
    When I was dry with rage and extreme toll,
    Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
    Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd,
    Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd
    Show'd like a stubble land at harvest home.
    He was perfumed like a milliner,
    And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
    A pouncet box, which ever and anon
    He gave his nose, and took't away again;
    Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
    Took it in snuff; and still he smil'd and talk'd;
    And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
    He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
    To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
    Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
    With many holiday and lady terms
    He questioned me, amongst the rest demanded
    My prisoners in your Majesty's behalf.
    I then, all smarting with my wounds being cold,
    To be so pest'red with a popingay,
    Out of my grief and my impatience
    Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what-
    He should, or he should not; for he made me mad
    To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
    And talk so like a waiting gentlewoman
    Of guns and drums and wounds- God save the mark! -
    And telling me the sovereignest thing on earth
    Was parmacity for an inward bruise;
    And that it was great pity, so it was,
    This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
    Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
    Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
    So cowardly; and but for these vile 'guns,
    He would himself have been a soldier.
    This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
    I answered indirectly, as I said,
    And I beseech you, let not his report
    Come current for an accusation
    Betwixt my love and your high majesty.
  Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my lord,
    Whate'er Lord Harry Percy then had said
    To such a person, and in such a place,
    At such a time, with all the rest retold,
    May reasonably die, and never rise
    To do him wrong, or any way impeach
    What then he said, so he unsay it now.
  King. 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.
  Hot. Revolted Mortimer?
    He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
    But by the chance of war. To prove that true
    Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
    Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took
    When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
    In single opposition hand to hand,
    He did confound the best part of an hour
    In changing hardiment with great Glendower.
    Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink,
    Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
    Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
    Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds
    And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
    Bloodstained with these valiant cohabitants.
    Never did base and rotten policy
    Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
    Nor never could the noble Mortimer
    Receive so many, and all willingly.
    Then let not him be slandered with revolt.
  King. 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.

  Hot. An if the devil come and roar for them,
    I will not send them. I will after straight
    And tell him so; for I will else my heart,
    Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
  North. What, drunk with choler? Stay, and pause awhile.
    Here comes your uncle.