Page:Henry IV Part 1 (1917) Yale.djvu/108

94 

King. How bloodily the sun begins to peer

Above yon busky hill! the day looks pale

At his distemperature.

Prince.The southern wind

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,

And by his hollow whistling in the leaves

Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.

King. Then with the losers let it sympathize,

For nothing can seem foul to those that win.

The trumpet sounds.

How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'tis not well

That you and I should meet upon such terms

As now we meet. You have deceiv'd our trust,

And made us doff our easy robes of peace,

To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.

This is not well, my lord; this is not well.

What say you to it? will you again unknit

This churlish knot of all-abhorred war,

And move in that obedient orb again

Where you did give a fair and natural light,

And be no more an exhal'd meteor,

A prodigy of fear and a portent

 2 busky: bushy

3 distemperature: inclemency, ill-humour

13 old limbs; cf. n.

17 obedient orb: sphere of obedience

19 exhal'd: drawn forth; especially vapours drawn forth by the sun and producing meteors 