So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenced in strands afar remote?
No, no;—where fear is, struggle is;—there never
True resolution;—arms, if arms be needful,
Are peace the nurse of broils; for want of tears
As I have seen, in coward Creteans' acts,
Their froward hearts forget their native courage,
And in their fears they make their virtues faint.
Therefore, my liege, be in readiness;
For, as I hear, a coming nigher day
Shall bring new matter to our affairs.
The king now summons counsel: Worcester, Northumberland, and other lords enter.
My Lord Northumberland, you did take such pains,
With such respect, with such unfaltering zeal,
As even your native loyalty might move,
And I confess it came unsought and free.
How is the state of our affairs? speak, Worcester.
Thy grace hath better than we could desire;
For there is now a copy of a letter
Directly from the Lord Douglas to Lord Percy,
Which shows a traitor's triumph in his words,
And in the substance of the letter too.
It is full of hot blood and empty boast.
The Prince of Wales — your son, my lord — is in disorder:
He takes his pastime in the taverns, and he keeps
Company with scheds and the common rout.
He hears the night-bird's song, and he keeps a pace
With shadows; he doth wrong his father's name.
My liege, I will make bold to say no more,
But that his course is dangerous to the state.
The King: I am heartily glad of your advice,
And for the present, let this be our counsel:
To watch and to be ready; and meanwhile
We will go to York, and there abide the news.