• Enter the KING, PRINCE HENRY of Wales, Lord John of LANCASTER, Earl of WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and FALSTAFF

    KING

    How bloodily the sun begins to peer
    Above yon busky hill. The day looks pale
    At his distemp'rature.

    PRINCE HENRY

       The southern wind
    Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
    5And by his hollow whistling in the leaves
    Foretells a tempest and a blust'ring day.

    KING

    Then with the losers let it sympathize,
    For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
    The trumpet sounds. Enter WORCESTER and VERNON
    How now, my Lord of Worcester? 'Tis not well
    10That you and I should meet upon such terms
    As now we meet. You have deceived our trust
    And made us doff our easy robes of peace
    To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel.
    This is not well, my lord; this is not well.
    15What say you to it? Will you again unknit
    This curlish knot of all-abhorrèd war
    And move in that obedient orb again
    Where you did give a fair and natural light,
    And be no more an exhaled meteor,
    20A prodigy of fear and a portent
    Of broachèd mischief to the unborn times?
  • The KING, PRINCE HENRY of Wales, Lord John of LANCASTER, Earl of WESTMORELAND, Sir Walter BLUNT, and FALSTAFF enter.

    KING

    How bloody the sun looks as it peers over that massive hill. The day looks pale—it must be sick to see the sun in such a mood.

    PRINCE HENRY

    The southern wind is playing its trumpet, to announce to the world what the sun means. And judging by the whistling leaves, it’s going to be a stormy, windy day.

    KING

    Then let it take the losers' side. To winners, nothing seems unpleasant.
    A trumpet sounds. WORCESTER and VERNON enter.
    Hello there, my lord of Worcester! It isn’t right that you and I are meeting under these circumstances. You have betrayed my trust. You forced me to put aside my comfortable peacetime clothing and instead have made me crush my old body into hard, military armor. That isn’t right, sir, that isn’t right. What do you have to say about it? Will you untie this ill-tempered knot of hateful war? Will you return to my loyalty? When you circled me, your King, in your obedient orbit, you shone beautifully and naturally. Now you blaze like a comet: a fearful omen, and a signal that evil will be released into the future.