The First Part of King Henry the Fourth. Уильям Шекспир

Why, what a wasp-stung and impatient fool

          Art thou to break into this woman's mood,

          Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!

        Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,

          Nettled, and stung with pismires when I hear

          Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.

          In Richard's time- what do you call the place-

          A plague upon it! it is in GIoucestershire-

          'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept-

          His uncle York- where I first bow'd my knee

          Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke-

          'S blood!

          When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh-

        North. At Berkeley Castle.

        Hot. You say true.

          Why, what a candy deal of courtesy

          This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!

          Look, 'when his infant fortune came to age,'

          And 'gentle Harry Percy,' and 'kind cousin'-

          O, the devil take such cozeners! – God forgive me!

          Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

        Wor. Nay, if you have not, to it again.

          We will stay your leisure.

        Hot. I have done, i' faith.

        Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.

          Deliver them up without their ransom straight,

          And make the Douglas' son your only mean

          For powers In Scotland; which, for divers reasons

          Which I shall send you written, be assur'd

          Will easily be granted. [To Northumberland] You, my lord,

          Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,

          Shall secretly into the bosom creep

          Of that same noble prelate well-belov'd,

          The Archbishop.

        Hot. Of York, is it not?

        Wor. True; who bears hard

          His brother's death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop.

          I speak not this in estimation,

          As what I think might be, but what I know

          Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,

          And only stays but to behold the face

          Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

        Hot. I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.

        North. Before the game is afoot thou still let'st slip.

        Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.

          And then the power of Scotland and of York

          To join with Mortimer, ha?

        Wor. And so they shall.

        Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.

        Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed,

          To save our heads by raising of a head;

          For, bear ourselves as even as we can,

          The King will always think him in our debt,

          And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,

          Till he hath found a time to pay us home.

          And see already how he doth begin

          To make us strangers to his looks of love.

        Hot. He does, he does! We'll be reveng'd on him.

        Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this

          Than I by letters shall direct your course.

          When time is ripe, which will be suddenly,

          I'll steal to Glendower and Lord Mortimer,

          Where you and Douglas, and our pow'rs at once,

          As I will fashion it, shall happily meet,

          To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,

          Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

        North. Farewell, good brother. We shall thrive, I trust.

        Hot. Uncle, adieu. O, let the hours be short

          Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport!

      Exeunt.

      ACT II. Scene I. Rochester. An inn yard

      Enter a Carrier with a lantern in his hand.

        1. Car. Heigh-ho! an it be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd.

          Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not

          pack'd. – What, ostler!

        Ost. [within] Anon, anon.

        1. Car. I prithee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in

      the

          point. Poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.

      Enter another Carrier.

        2. Car. Peas and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is

      the

          next way to give poor jades the bots. This house is turned

      upside

          down since Robin Ostler died.

        1. Car. Poor fellow never joyed since the price of oats rose.

      It

          was the death of him.

        2. Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London

      road

          for fleas. I am stung like a tench.

        1. Car. Like a tench I By the mass, there is ne'er a king

      christen

          could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.

        2. Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jordan, and then we

      leak in

          your chimney, and your chamber-lye breeds fleas like a loach.

        1. Car. What, ostler! come away and be hang'd! come away!

        2. Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be

          delivered as far as Charing Cross.

        1. Car. God's body! the turkeys in my pannier are quite

      starved.

          What, ostler! A plague on thee! hast thou never an eye in thy

          head? Canst not hear? An 'twere not as good deed as drink to

          break the pate on thee, I am a very villain. Come, and be

      hang'd!

          Hast no faith in thee?

      Enter Gadshill.

        Gads. Good morrow, carriers. What's o'clock?

        1.