KING HENRY IV
Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin
In envy that my Lord Northumberland
Should be the
father to so blest a son,
A son who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest
Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and
dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved
That some night-tripping fairy had
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
Of this young
Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surprised,
To his own use he keeps; and
sends me word,
I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.
This is his uncle's teaching; this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects;
Which makes him prune
himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.
KING HENRY IV
But I have sent for him to answer this;
And for this cause awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords:
yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said and to be done
Than out of anger can be uttered.
I will, my liege.
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