Philip Weller caricature
Philip and Weller hugging

Welcome to my web site, now under development for more than twenty years.   
-- Philip Weller, November 13, 1941 - February 1, 2021
Dr. Weller, an Eastern Washington University professor of English and Shakespearean scholar for more than 50 years.

The First Part of Henry IV:

Act 1, Scene 1

           Enter the KING [HENRY], LORD JOHN
           [SIR WALTER BLUNT,] with others.

  1   So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
  2   Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
  3   And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
  4   To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
  5   No more the thirsty entrance of this soil
  6   Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;
  7   Nor more shall trenching war channel her fields,
  8   Nor bruise her flowerets with the armed hoofs
  9   Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,
 10   Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
 11   All of one nature, of one substance bred,
 12   Did lately meet in the intestine shock
 13   And furious close of civil butchery
 14   Shall now, in mutual well-beseeming ranks,
 15   March all one way and be no more opposed
 16   Against acquaintance, kindred and allies:
 17   The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
 18   No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
 19   As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
 20   Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
 21   We are impressed and engag'd to fight,
 22   Forthwith a power of English shall we levy;
 23   Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb
 24   To chase these pagans in those holy fields
 25   Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet
 26   Which fourteen hundred years ago were nail'd
 27   For our advantage on the bitter cross.
 28   But this our purpose now is twelve month old,
 29   And bootless 'tis to tell you we will go:
 30   Therefore we meet not now. Then let me hear
 31   Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
 32   What yesternight our council did decree
 33   In forwarding this dear expedience.

 34   My liege, this haste was hot in question,
 35   And many limits of the charge set down
 36   But yesternight: when all athwart there came
 37   A post from Wales loaden with heavy news;
 38   Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,
 39   Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
 40   Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
 41   Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
 42   A thousand of his people butchered;
 43   Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,
 44   Such beastly shameless transformation,
 45   By those Welshwomen done as may not be
 46   Without much shame retold or spoken of.

 47   It seems then that the tidings of this broil
 48   Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

 49   This match'd with other did, my gracious lord;
 50   For more uneven and unwelcome news
 51   Came from the north and thus it did import:
 52   On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
 53   Young Harry Percy and brave Archibald,
 54   That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
 55   At Holmedon met,
 56   Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour,
 57   As by discharge of their artillery,
 58   And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
 59   For he that brought them, in the very heat
 60   And pride of their contention did take horse,
 61   Uncertain of the issue any way.

 62   Here is a dear, a true industrious friend,
 63   Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse.
 64   Stain'd with the variation of each soil
 65   Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
 66   And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
 67   The Earl of Douglas is discomfited:
 68   Ten thousand bold Scots, two and twenty knights,
 69   Balk'd in their own blood did Sir Walter see
 70   On Holmedon's plains. Of prisoners, Hotspur took
 71   Mordake the Earl of Fife, and eldest son
 72   To beaten Douglas; and the Earl of Athol,
 73   Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith:
 74   And is not this an honourable spoil?
 75   A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?

 76   In faith,
 77   It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

 78   Yea, there thou makest me sad and makest me sin
 79   In envy that my Lord Northumberland
 80   Should be the father to so blest a son,
 81   A son who is the theme of honour's tongue;
 82   Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
 83   Who is sweet Fortune's minion and her pride:
 84   Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
 85   See riot and dishonour stain the brow
 86   Of my young Harry. O that it could be proved
 87   That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
 88   In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
 89   And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
 90   Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
 91   But let him from my thoughts. What think you, coz,
 92   Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
 93   Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
 94   To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,
 95   I shall have none but Mordake Earl of Fife.

 96   This is his uncle's teaching; this is Worcester,
 97   Malevolent to you in all aspects;
 98   Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
 99   The crest of youth against your dignity.

100   But I have sent for him to answer this;
101   And for this cause awhile we must neglect
102   Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
103   Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
104   Will hold at Windsor; so inform the lords:
105   But come yourself with speed to us again;
106   For more is to be said and to be done
107   Than out of anger can be uttered.

108   I will, my liege.