Document:  All > Shakespeare > Histories > King Henry IV, part I > Act II, scene III

	[Enter HOTSPUR, solus, reading a letter]

HOTSPUR: 'But for mine own part, my lord, I could be well
	contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear
	your house.' He could be contented: why is he not,
	then? In respect of the love he bears our house:
	he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than
	he loves our house. Let me see some more. 'The
	purpose you undertake is dangerous;'--why, that's
	certain: 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to
	drink; but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this
	nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 'The
	purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you
	have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and
	your whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so
	great an opposition.' Say you so, say you so? I say
	unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and
	you lie.  What a lack-brain is this! By the Lord,
	our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our
	friends true and constant: a good plot, good
	friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot,
	very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is
	this! Why, my lord of York commends the plot and the
	general course of action. 'Zounds, an I were now by
	this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan.
	Is there not my father, my uncle and myself? lord
	Edmund Mortimer, My lord of York and Owen Glendower?
	is there not besides the Douglas? have I not all
	their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the
	next month? and are they not some of them set
	forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! an
	infidel! Ha! you shall see now in very sincerity
	of fear and cold heart, will he to the king and lay
	open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself
	and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of
	skim milk with so honourable an action! Hang him!
	let him tell the king: we are prepared. I will set
	forward to-night.


	How now, Kate! I must leave you within these two hours.

LADY PERCY: O, my good lord, why are you thus alone?
	For what offence have I this fortnight been
	A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?
	Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
	Thy stomach, pleasure and thy golden sleep?
	Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth,
	And start so often when thou sit'st alone?
	Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks;
	And given my treasures and my rights of thee
	To thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy?
	In thy faint slumbers I by thee have watch'd,
	And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars;
	Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
	Cry 'Courage! to the field!' And thou hast talk'd
	Of sallies and retires, of trenches, tents,
	Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets,
	Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin,
	Of prisoners' ransom and of soldiers slain,
	And all the currents of a heady fight.
	Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war
	And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep,
	That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow
	Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream;
	And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
	Such as we see when men restrain their breath
	On some great sudden hest. O, what portents are these?
	Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
	And I must know it, else he loves me not.

HOTSPUR: What, ho!

	[Enter Servant]

	Is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Servant: He is, my lord, an hour ago.

HOTSPUR: Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?

Servant: One horse, my lord, he brought even now.

HOTSPUR: What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?

Servant: It is, my lord.

HOTSPUR:                   That roan shall by my throne.
	Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!
	Bid Butler lead him forth into the park.

	[Exit Servant]

LADY PERCY: But hear you, my lord.

HOTSPUR: What say'st thou, my lady?

LADY PERCY: What is it carries you away?

HOTSPUR: Why, my horse, my love, my horse.

LADY PERCY: Out, you mad-headed ape!
	A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen
	As you are toss'd with. In faith,
	I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
	I fear my brother Mortimer doth stir
	About his title, and hath sent for you
	To line his enterprise: but if you go,--

HOTSPUR: So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

LADY PERCY: Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
	Directly unto this question that I ask:
	In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
	An if thou wilt not tell me all things true.

	Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not,
	I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world
	To play with mammets and to tilt with lips:
	We must have bloody noses and crack'd crowns,
	And pass them current too. God's me, my horse!
	What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou
	have with me?

LADY PERCY: Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?
	Well, do not then; for since you love me not,
	I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
	Nay, tell me if you speak in jest or no.

HOTSPUR: Come, wilt thou see me ride?
	And when I am on horseback, I will swear
	I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate;
	I must not have you henceforth question me
	Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
	Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
	This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
	I know you wise, but yet no farther wise
	Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are,
	But yet a woman: and for secrecy,
	No lady closer; for I well believe
	Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
	And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate.

LADY PERCY: How! so far?

HOTSPUR: Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate:
	Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
	To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.
	Will this content you, Kate?

LADY PERCY: It must of force.



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