O Harry, thou hast robbed me of my youth.
I better brook the loss of brittle life
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me.
The Prince of Wales stepped forth before the King,
And, nephew, challenged you to single fight.
Pray God my news be worth a welcome, lord.
The Earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand strong,
Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father!
I cannot choose.
Hotspur, reading a letter
But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be
well contented to be there,
Peace, cousin, say no more.
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I’ll read you matter deep and dangerous,
My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Why, so can I, or so can any man,