Page:Henry IV Part 2 (1921) Yale.djvu/20

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Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life,

Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire

Out of his keeper's arms, even so my limbs,

Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief,

Are thrice themselves. Hence, therefore, thou nice crutch!

A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel

Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif!

Thou art a guard too wanton for the head

Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit.

Now bind my brows with iron; and approach

The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring

To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland!

Let heaven kiss earth! now let not nature's hand

Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die!

And let this world no longer be a stage

To feed contention in a lingering act;

But let one spirit of the first-born Cain

Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set

On bloody courses, the rude scene may end,

And darkness be the burier of the dead!

Tra. This strained passion doth you wrong, my lord.

L. Bard. Sweet earl, divorce not wisdom from your honour.

Mor. The lives of all your loving complices

Lean on your health; the which, if you give o'er

To stormy passion, must perforce decay.

 141 buckle: bend

144 grief: suffering

grief: sorrow

145 nice: dainty, effeminate

147 sickly quoif: sick man's hood

148 wanton: effeminate

149 flesh'd: made fierce by combat as a dog fed only on flesh

151 ragged'st: roughest

161 strained passion: exaggerated emotion

163 complices: allies 