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How now, my lord chief-justice! whither away? Lord Chief-Justice How doth the king?
How’s it going, my lord chief-justice? Where are you headed? Lord Chief-Justice How is the king?
Exceeding well; his cares are now all ended. Lord Chief-Justice I hope, not dead.
He’s doing really well; his troubles are all over. Lord Chief-Justice I hope he’s not dead.
He’s walk’d the way of nature; And to our purposes he lives no more. Lord Chief-Justice I would his majesty had call’d me with him: The service that I truly did his life Hath left me open to all injuries.
He’s followed the natural course of life; And for our purposes, he’s no longer alive. Lord Chief-Justice, I wish the king had called me with him: The service I truly gave him in life Has left me open to all sorts of harm.
Indeed I think the young king loves you not. Lord Chief-Justice I know he doth not, and do arm myself To welcome the condition of the time, Which cannot look more hideously upon me Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.
Honestly, I don’t think the young king likes you. Lord Chief-Justice, I know he doesn’t, and I prepare myself To face the reality of the situation, Which can’t possibly seem worse to me Than it already does in my mind.
Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry: O that the living Harry had the temper Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen! How many nobles then should hold their places That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! Lord Chief-Justice O God, I fear all will be overturn’d!
Here come the heavy consequences of dead Harry: Oh, if only the living Harry had the temperament Of the worst of these three men! How many nobles would still hold their positions If they had to give way to such vile spirits! Lord Chief-Justice, Oh God, I fear everything will be turned upside down!
Good morrow, cousin Warwick, good morrow.
Good morning, cousin Warwick, good morning.
Good morrow, cousin.
Good morning, cousin.
We meet like men that had forgot to speak.
We meet like people who forgot how to speak.
We do remember; but our argument Is all too heavy to admit much talk.
We remember, but our discussion Is too heavy to allow much talking.
Well, peace be with him that hath made us heavy. Lord Chief-Justice Peace be with us, lest we be heavier!
Well, peace be with the one who has made us so heavy. Lord Chief-Justice, Peace be with us, or we’ll be even heavier!
O, good my lord, you have lost a friend indeed; And I dare swear you borrow not that face Of seeming sorrow, it is sure your own.
Oh, my lord, you’ve truly lost a friend; And I swear you’re not just pretending to be sad, It’s truly your own sorrow.
Though no man be assured what grace to find, You stand in coldest expectation: I am the sorrier; would ’twere otherwise.
Though no one knows what kindness to expect, You stand in the coldest kind of waiting: I feel worse; I wish it were different.
Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair; Which swims against your stream of quality. Lord Chief-Justice Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honour, Led by the impartial conduct of my soul: And never shall you see that I will beg A ragged and forestall’d remission. If truth and upright innocency fail me, I’ll to the king my master that is dead, And tell him who hath sent me after him.
Well, now you must speak well of Sir John Falstaff; Which goes against your usual character. Lord Chief-Justice, Sweet princes, what I did, I did in honor, Guided by the honest direction of my heart: And you’ll never see me beg For an unfair and partial pardon. If truth and pure innocence fail me, I’ll go to the king, my master who is dead, And tell him who has sent me after him.
Here comes the prince.
Here comes the prince.
Lord Chief-Justice Good morrow; and God save your majesty!
Lord Chief-Justice, Good morning; and God save your majesty!
This new and gorgeous garment, majesty, Sits not so easy on me as you think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear: This is the English, not the Turkish court; Not Amurath an Amurath succeeds, But Harry Harry. Yet be sad, good brothers, For, by my faith, it very well becomes you: Sorrow so royally in you appears That I will deeply put the fashion on And wear it in my heart: why then, be sad; But entertain no more of it, good brothers, Than a joint burden laid upon us all. For me, by heaven, I bid you be assured, I’ll be your father and your brother too; Let me but bear your love, I ’ll bear your cares: Yet weep that Harry’s dead; and so will I; But Harry lives, that shall convert those tears By number into hours of happiness.
This new and impressive role of king Doesn’t feel as natural to me as you might think. Brothers, you mix your sadness with some fear: This is England, not some harsh, foreign court; We don’t replace one tyrant with another here; Instead, Harry succeeds Harry. So be sad, good brothers, For truly, it suits you well: Your sorrow looks noble and fitting. That I will take it deeply into my heart And wear it there. So, yes, be sad; But don’t carry more of the burden, dear brothers, Than what we all must share together. As for me, I swear to you by heaven, I’ll be like a father and brother to you; Just give me your love, and I’ll handle your worries: Cry for Harry’s death, and I’ll cry too; But remember, Harry lives, and I’ll turn your tears Into countless hours of joy.
We hope no other from your majesty.
We expect nothing less from you, Your Majesty.
You all look strangely on me: and you most; You are, I think, assured I love you not. Lord Chief-Justice I am assured, if I be measured rightly, Your majesty hath no just cause to hate me.
You all look at me strangely: especially you; I think you’re sure I don’t love you. I am confident, if I’ve been judged fairly, That Your Majesty has no real reason to hate me.
No! How might a prince of my great hopes forget So great indignities you laid upon me? What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to prison The immediate heir of England! Was this easy? May this be wash’d in Lethe, and forgotten? Lord Chief-Justice I then did use the person of your father; The image of his power lay then in me: And, in the administration of his law, Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, Your highness pleased to forget my place, The majesty and power of law and justice, The image of the king whom I presented, And struck me in my very seat of judgment; Whereon, as an offender to your father, I gave bold way to my authority And did commit you. If the deed were ill, Be you contented, wearing now the garland, To have a son set your decrees at nought, To pluck down justice from your awful bench, To trip the course of law and blunt the sword That guards the peace and safety of your person; Nay, more, to spurn at your most royal image And mock your workings in a second body. Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; Be now the father and propose a son, Hear your own dignity so much profaned, See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, Behold yourself so by a son disdain’d; And then imagine me taking your part And in your power soft silencing your son: After this cold considerance, sentence me; And, as you are a king, speak in your state What I have done that misbecame my place, My person, or my liege’s sovereignty.
No? How could a prince with my expectations forget The insults you once heaped upon me? What? Scolding, reproaching, and throwing me in prison— The rightful heir to the throne of England! Was that fair? Could that be so easily forgiven and forgotten? At the time, I was acting as your father’s representative; His authority and power were vested in me: And in enforcing his laws, While I was working for the greater good, You chose to disregard my position, The dignity and authority of law and justice, And the image of the king I represented. You struck me in my seat of judgment; So, as a servant of your father, I exercised my power boldly And committed you to prison. If that was wrong, Then imagine this: as king now, if your own son Dismisses your laws and undermines your authority, Removes justice from your throne, Disrupts the legal system and dulls the sword That protects your life and safety; Or worse, disrespects your royal image And mocks your authority as I once did. Consider this possibility, and imagine it happening to you: Be the father and imagine a rebellious son; Hear your own dignity insulted in the same way, See your most fearsome laws treated carelessly, And find yourself disdained by your own son; Then imagine someone stepping in, as I did, To silence your son for you: After calmly thinking this over, judge me; And as a king, decide if what I did Was unworthy of my position, my character, or the authority Of the crown I served.
You are right, justice, and you weigh this well; Therefore still bear the balance and the sword: And I do wish your honours may increase, Till you do live to see a son of mine Offend you and obey you, as I did. So shall I live to speak my father’s words: ’Happy am I, that have a man so bold, That dares do justice on my proper son; And not less happy, having such a son, That would deliver up his greatness so Into the hands of justice.’ You did commit me: For which, I do commit into your hand The unstained sword that you have used to bear; With this remembrance, that you use the same With the like bold, just and impartial spirit As you have done ’gainst me. There is my hand. You shall be as a father to my youth: My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine ear, And I will stoop and humble my intents To your well-practised wise directions. And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you; My father is gone wild into his grave, For in his tomb lie my affections; And with his spirit sadly I survive, To mock the expectation of the world, To frustrate prophecies and to raze out Rotten opinion, who hath writ me down After my seeming. The tide of blood in me Hath proudly flow’d in vanity till now: Now doth it turn and ebb back to the sea, Where it shall mingle with the state of floods And flow henceforth in formal majesty. Now call we our high court of parliament: And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel, That the great body of our state may go In equal rank with the best govern’d nation; That war, or peace, or both at once, may be As things acquainted and familiar to us; In which you, father, shall have foremost hand. Our coronation done, we will accite, As I before remember’d, all our state: And, God consigning to my good intents, No prince nor peer shall have just cause to say, God shorten Harry’s happy life one day!
You’re right, Justice, and you’ve judged this well; So continue to hold the scales of justice and the sword of law. And I hope your honor only grows, Until you live to see a son of mine Offend you and respect you, as I did. Then I’ll echo my father’s words: “I’m lucky to have a man so brave That he’d do justice even to my own son; And even luckier to have a son Who respects the justice that disciplines him.” Yes, you imprisoned me: And now, I entrust you with The spotless sword of justice you’ve carried; And I remind you to wield it With the same boldness, fairness, and impartiality As you did with me. Here’s my hand. You will guide my youth as a father would: I’ll listen to your advice, And I’ll lower my ambitions To align with your experienced guidance. And to all of you, believe me, I beg you; My father is now at rest in his grave, And my past desires and vanities are buried with him; What remains is his spirit in me, To defy the world’s low expectations, To prove the doubters wrong and erase Rotten opinions about me. My blood once flowed with pride and vanity, But now it ebbs back, humble and steady, Merging with the tides of duty And flowing with the dignity of kingship. Now let us call our parliament: And gather the wisest advisors, So that our nation will stand equal To the most well-governed in the world; And so that war and peace will be Familiar matters we manage with ease. And you, Justice, will have a leading role. After my coronation, we’ll summon All the representatives of the state: And, with God’s blessing on my intentions, No prince or noble will ever have reason to wish That Harry’s reign were cut short by even one day!