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 5, Scene 1

           Enter the KING, PRINCE OF WALES,

  1   How bloodily the sun begins to peer
  2   Above yon bulky hill! the day looks pale
  3   At his distemp'rature.

  3                                         The southern wind
  4   Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
  5   And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
  6   Foretells a tempest and a blustering day.

  7   Then with the losers let it sympathize,
  8   For nothing can seem foul to those that win.

           The trumpet sounds.

           Enter WORCESTER
           [and SIR RICHARD VERNON].

  9   How now, my Lord of Worcester! 'tis not well
 10   That you and I should meet upon such terms
 11   As now we meet. You have deceived our trust,
 12   And made us doff our easy robes of peace,
 13   To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel:
 14   This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
 15   What say you to it? will you again unknit
 16   This curlish knot of all-abhorred war?
 17   And move in that obedient orb again
 18   Where you did give a fair and natural light,
 19   And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
 20   A prodigy of fear and a portent
 21   Of broached mischief to the unborn times?

 22   Hear me, my liege:
 23   For mine own part, I could be well content
 24   To entertain the lag-end of my life
 25   With quiet hours; for I do protest,
 26   I have not sought the day of this dislike.

 27   You have not sought it! how comes it, then?

 28   Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.

 29   Peace, chewet, peace!

 30   It pleased your majesty to turn your looks
 31   Of favour from myself and all our house;
 32   And yet I must remember you, my lord,
 33   We were the first and dearest of your friends.
 34   For you my staff of office did I break
 35   In Richard's time; and posted day and night
 36   to meet you on the way, and kiss your hand,
 37   When yet you were in place and in account
 38   Nothing so strong and fortunate as I.
 39   It was myself, my brother and his son,
 40   That brought you home and boldly did outdare
 41   The dangers of the time. You swore to us,
 42   And you did swear that oath at Doncaster,
 43   That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state;
 44   Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right,
 45   The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster:
 46   To this we swore our aid. But in short space
 47   It rain'd down fortune showering on your head;
 48   And such a flood of greatness fell on you,
 49   What with our help, what with the absent king,
 50   What with the injuries of a wanton time,
 51   The seeming sufferances that you had borne,
 52   And the contrarious winds that held the king
 53   So long in his unlucky Irish wars
 54   That all in England did repute him dead:
 55   And from this swarm of fair advantages
 56   You took occasion to be quickly woo'd
 57   To gripe the general sway into your hand;
 58   Forget your oath to us at Doncaster;
 59   And being fed by us you used us so
 60   As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,
 61   Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest;
 62   Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk
 63   That even our love durst not come near your sight
 64   For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing
 65   We were enforced, for safety sake, to fly
 66   Out of sight and raise this present head;
 67   Whereby we stand opposed by such means
 68   As you yourself have forged against yourself
 69   By unkind usage, dangerous countenance,
 70   And violation of all faith and troth
 71   Sworn to us in your younger enterprise.

 72   These things indeed you have articulate,
 73   Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches,
 74   To face the garment of rebellion
 75   With some fine colour that may please the eye
 76   Of fickle changelings and poor discontents,
 77   Which gape and rub the elbow at the news
 78   Of hurlyburly innovation:
 79   And never yet did insurrection want
 80   Such water-colours to impaint his cause;
 81   Nor moody beggars, starving for a time
 82   Of pellmell havoc and confusion.

 83   In both your armies there is many a soul
 84   Shall pay full dearly for this encounter,
 85   If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew,
 86   The Prince of Wales doth join with all the world
 87   In praise of Henry Percy: by my hopes,
 88   This present enterprise set off his head,
 89   I do not think a braver gentleman,
 90   More active-valiant or more valiant-young,
 91   More daring or more bold, is now alive
 92   To grace this latter age with noble deeds.
 93   For my part, I may speak it to my shame,
 94   I have a truant been to chivalry;
 95   And so I hear he doth account me too;
 96   Yet this before my father's majesty—
 97   I am content that he shall take the odds
 98   Of his great name and estimation,
 99   And will, to save the blood on either side,
100   Try fortune with him in a single fight.

101   And, Prince of Wales, so dare we venture thee,
102   Albeit considerations infinite
103   Do make against it. No, good Worcester, no,
104   We love our people well; even those we love
105   That are misled upon your cousin's part;
106   And, will they take the offer of our grace,
107   Both he and they and you, every man
108   Shall be my friend again and I'll be his:
109   So tell your cousin, and bring me word
110   What he will do: but if he will not yield,
111   Rebuke and dread correction wait on us
112   And they shall do their office. So, be gone;
113   We will not now be troubled with reply:
114   We offer fair; take it advisedly.

           Exit WORCESTER [with VERNON].

115   It will not be accepted, on my life:
116   The Douglas and the Hotspur both together
117   Are confident against the world in arms.

118   Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
119   For, on their answer, will we set on them:
120   And God befriend us, as our cause is just!

***        Exeunt. Manent Prince, Falstaff.

121   Hal, if thou see me down in the battle and
122   bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship.

123   Nothing but a colossus can do thee that
124   friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell.

125   I would 'twere bed-time, Hal, and all well.

126   Why, thou owest God a death.


127   'Tis not due yet; I would be loath to pay him before
128   his day. What need I be so forward with him that
129   calls not on me? Well, 'tis no matter; honour pricks
130   me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I
131   come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or
132   an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no.
133   Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is
134   honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what
135   is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it?
136   he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth
137   he hear it? no. 'Tis insensible, then. Yea, to the dead.
138   But will it not live with the living? no. Why?
139   detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I'll none of it.
140   Honour is a mere scutcheon: and so ends my
141   catechism.