K. Henry.
My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me; for, accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: but, be sure,
^{6 note}

Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect,
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, but to the proud.

Wor.
Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it;
And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.

North.
My lord,—

K. Henry.
Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see
Danger and disobedience in thine eye:
O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
^{7 note}

North.
Yea, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength deny'd
As is deliver'd to your majesty:
Either envy, therefore, or misprision
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot.
My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, and trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,

Shew'd like a stubble land ^{8 note}

He question'd me; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.
^{3 note}

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmacity, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not his report9Q0670
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Blunt.
The circumstance consider'd, good my lord,
Whatever Harry Percy then had said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably die, and never rise
^{4 note}

What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Henry.
Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners;
But with proviso, and exception,—
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer^{5 note};
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those, that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately marry'd. Shall our coffers then
Be empty'd, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? ^{6 note}

When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot.
Revolted Mortimer!
^{7 note}

But by the chance of war;—^{8 note}
To prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue, for all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When, on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,
In single opposition, hand to hand,
He did confound the best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
^{9 note}Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid ^{1 note}

Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
^{2 note}Never did bare and rotten policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly:
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.

K. Henry.
Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie him,
He never did encounter with Glendower;
I tell thee, he durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer:
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you.—My lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son:—
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. [Exit. K. Henry,

Hot.
And if the devil come and roar for them,
I will not send them:—I will after straight,
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,
^{3 note}
Although it be with hazard of my head.

North.
What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause a while;
Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter Worcester.

Hot.
Speak of Mortimer?
Yes, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him:
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the dust,
^{4 note}

North.
Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. [To Worcester.

Wor.
Who strook this heat up after I was gone?

Hot.
He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners:
And when I urg'd the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale;
And on my face he turn'd ^{5 note}

Wor.
I cannot blame him; Was he not proclaim'd,
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?

North.
He was; I heard the proclamation:
And then it was, when the unhappy king
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Irish expedition;
From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and, shortly, murdered.

Wor.
And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot.
But, soft, I pray you; Did king Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer^{6 note}

Heir to the crown?

North.
He did; myself did hear it.

Hot.
Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd.
But shall it be, that you,—that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man;
And, for his sake, wear the detested blot
Of murd'rous subornation,—shall it be,
That you a world of curses undergo;
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?—
O, pardon me, that I descend so low,
To shew the line, and the predicament,
Wherein you range under this subtle king.—
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility, and power,
Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf,—
As both of you, God pardon it! have done,—
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, ^{7 note}this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent?
No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again:

Revenge the jeering, and ^{8 note}disdain'd contempt,
Of this proud king; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes to you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say,—

Wor.
Peace, cousin, say no more:
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter, deep, and dangerous;
As full of peril, and advent'rous spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
^{9 note}On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot.
If he fall in, good night:—or sink or swim^{1 note}

North.
Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot.
^{2 note}

To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon;
Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:
^{3 note}

Wor.
He apprehends ^{4 note}a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.—
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.

Hot.
I cry you mercy.

Wor.
Those same noble Scots,
That are your prisoners,—

Hot.
I'll keep them all;
By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them;
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:
I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor.
You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes.—
Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot.
Nay, I will; that's flat:—
He said, he would not ransom Mortimer;

Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla—Mortimer!
Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor.
Hear you, cousin; a word.

Hot.
All studies here I solemnly defy^{5 note}
,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke:
^{6 note}And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales,—
But that I think his father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale^{7 note}.

Wor.
Farewel, kinsman! I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.

North.
Why, what a wasp-stung^{8 note} and impatient fool
Art thou, to break into this woman's mood;
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own?

Hot.
Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,

Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time,—What do you call the place?—
A plague upon't!—it is in Glostershire;—
'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York;—where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.

North.
At Berkley castle.

Hot.
You say true:—
Why, what a candy'd deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look,—when his ^{9 note}infant fortune came to age,—
And,—gentle Harry Percy,—and, kind cousin,—
O, the devil take such cozeners^{1 note}

Wor.
Nay, if you have not, to't again;
We'll stay your leisure.

Hot.
I have done, i'faith.

Wor.
Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas' son your only mean
For powers in Scotland; which,—for divers reasons,
Which I shall send you written,—be assur'd,
Will easily be granted.—You, my lord,— [To North.

Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,—
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd,
The archbishop.

Hot.
Of York, is't not?

Wor.
True; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
^{2 note}

Hot.
I smell it; upon my life, it will do well.

North.
Before the game's afoot, thou still ^{3 note}let'st slip.

Hot.
Why, it cannot chuse but be a noble plot:—
And then the power of Scotland, and of York,
To join with Mortimer, ha?

Wor.
And so they shall.

Hot.
In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.

Wor.
And 'tis no little reason bids us speed,

To save our heads ^{4 note}by raising of a head:
For, bear ourselves as even as we can,
^{5 note}

Hot.
He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him.

Wor.
Cousin, farewel:—No further go in this,
Than I by letters shall direct your course.
When time is ripe, (which will be suddenly)
I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer;
Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once,
(As I will fashion it) shall happily meet,
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

North.
Farewel, good brother: We shall thrive, I trust.

Hot.
Uncle, adieu:—O, let the hours be short,
'Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport! [Exeunt.

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