Enter Hotspur, reading a Letter^{8 note}.

&lblank; But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house.—He could be contented,—Why is he not then? In respect of the love he bears our house:—he shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake, is dangerous; —Why, that's certain; 'tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake, is dangerous; the friends you have named, uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.—Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation: an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue is this? Why, my lord of York^{9 note} commends the plot, and the general course of the action. 'Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan^{1 note}

my father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month? and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this? an infidel? Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the king, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him! let him tell the king: We are prepared: I will set forward to-night.

How now, Kate^{2 note}

Lady.
O my good lord, why are you thus alone?
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed?
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from thee
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep^{3 note}

And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars:
Speak terms of manage to thy bounding steed;
Cry, Courage!—to the field! And thou hast talk'd
Of sallies, and retires^{6 note}; of trenches, tents,
Of palisadoes, frontiers,^{7 note}

That beads of sweat^{1 note}


have stood upon thy brow,
Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream:
And in thy face strange motions have appear'd,
Such as we see when men restrain their breath
On some great sudden haste^{2 note}. O, what portents are these?
Some heavy business hath my lord in hand,
And I must know it, else he loves me not.

Hot.
What, ho! is Gilliams with the packet gone? Enter Servant.

Serv.
He is my lord, an hour ago^{3 note}

Hot.
Hath Butler brought those horses from the sheriff?

Serv.
One horse, my lord, he brought even now,

Hot.
What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it not?

Serv.
It is, my lord.

Hot.
That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight: O esperance!^{4 note}—
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant.

Lady.
But hear you, my lord.

Hot.
What say'st thou, my lady^{5 note}?

Lady.
What is it carries you away?

Hot.
Why my horse^{6 note}, my love, my horse.

Lady.
Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen^{7 note}
,
As you are toss'd with. In faith,
I'll know your business, Harry, that I will.
I fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir
About his title; and hath sent for you,
To line his enterprize^{8 note}

: But if you go—

Hot.
So far afoot, I shall be weary, love.

Lady.
Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to this question that I ask.
In faith, I'll break thy little finger, Harry^{9 note}

Hot.
Away,
Away, you trifler!—Love?—I love thee not^{1 note}

I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world,
To play with mammets,^{2 note}

What say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me?

Lady.
Do you not love me? do you not, indeed?
Well, do not then; for since you love me not,
I will not love myself. Do you not love me?
Nay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no.

Hot.
Come, wilt thou see me ride?
And when I am o' horseback, I will swear
I love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate;
I must not have you henceforth question me
Whither I go, nor reason whereabout:
Whither I must, I must; and, to conclude,
This evening must I leave you, gentle Kate.
I know you wise; but yet no further wise,
Than Harry Percy's wife: constant you are;
But yet a woman: and for secrecy,
No lady closer: for I well believe,
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know^{4 note}

Lady.
How! so far?

Hot.
Not an inch further. But hark you, Kate?
Whither I go, thither shall you go too;
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you.—
Will this content you, Kate?

Lady.
It must, of force. [Exeunt.

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