King.
My blood hath been too cold and temperate,
Unapt to stir at these indignities,
And you have found me; for ^note accordingly
You tread ^note upon my patience: but be sure
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty and to be fear'd, than ^note my condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young ^note down,
And therefore lost that ^note title of respect
Which the proud soul ^note ne'er ^note 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 ^note to make so portly.

North.
My lord ^note,—

King.
Worcester ^note, get thee gone; for I do see ^note
Danger and disobedience in thine eye:
O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory ^note,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier ^note of a servant ^note brow.
You have good leave to leave us: when we need
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. [Exit Wor. ^note

You were about to speak. [To North. ^note

North.
Yea ^note, my good lord.
Those prisoners in your highness' name ^note demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon ^note took,
Were ^note, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is ^note deliver'd to your majesty:
Either envy, therefore ^note, or misprision
Is ^note guilty of this fault and not ^note 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 ^note dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose and took 't away again;
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it ^note in snuff ^{note note}; and still he smiled and talk'd,
And as the soldiers bore ^note dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms ^note
He question'd me; amongst ^note the rest, demanded
My prisoners in your majesty's behalf.

I then, ^note all smarting with my wounds being cold ^note, ^note
To be so pester'd with a popinjay ^note,
Out of my grief and my impatience,
Answer'd neglectingly I know not what,
He should, or he ^note should not; for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk and smell so sweet
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman
Of guns and drums and wounds,—God save the mark!—
And telling me the sovereign'st ^note thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
This ^note villanous 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 ^note a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd ^note indirectly, as I said;
And I beseech you, let not his ^note report
Come current for an accusation
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Blunt.
The circumstance consider'd, good my lord,
Whate'er Lord ^note Harry Percy then had said
To such a person and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die and never rise
To do him wrong or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay ^note it now.

King.
Why, yet he ^note 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;
Who, on ^note my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against that ^note great magician, damn'd Glendower,
Whose daughter, as we hear, the ^note Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then,
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent ^note with fears ^note,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains ^note 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!
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by ^note the chance of war: to ^note prove that true
Needs no more but one tongue for ^note all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy ^note 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 breathed and three times did they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head ^note in the hollow bank
Bloodstained with these valiant combatants.

Never did base and ^note rotten policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never ^note could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly:
Then let not him ^note be slander'd with revolt.

King.
Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie ^note him;
He never did encounter with Glendower:
I tell thee ^note,
He durst as well have met the devil alone
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not ashamed? ^note But, sirrah, henceforth ^note
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 ^note. My Lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son.
Send us your prisoners, or you will ^note hear of it. [Exeunt King Henry, Blunt, and train. ^note

Hot.
An if ^note 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,
Albeit I make a ^note hazard of my head.

North.
What, drunk with choler? stay and pause awhile:
Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter Worcester. ^note

Hot.
Speak of Mortimer!
'Zounds ^note, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him:
Yea, on his part ^note I'll empty all these ^note veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop in the ^note dust,
But I will lift the down-trod ^note Mortimer
As high in the ^note air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.

North.
Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.

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

Hot.
He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;
And when I urged the ransom once again
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

Wor.
I cannot blame him: was not he ^note proclaim'd
By Richard that dead is ^note 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 deposed and shortly murdered.

Wor.
And for whose death we in the world's wide mouth
Live ^note scandalized and foully spoken of.

Hot.
But, soft, I pray you; did King Richard then
Proclaim my brother ^note Edmund ^note Mortimer ^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 starve ^note.
But shall it be, that you, that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man
And for his sake wear ^note the detested blot
Of murderous subornation ^note, shall it be,
That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman ^note rather?
O, pardon me ^note that I descend so low,
To show 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 ^note 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, 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 ^note honours and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
To answer all the debt he owes to you ^note
Even with the bloody payment ^note of your deaths ^note:
Therefore, I say,—

Wor.
Peace, cousin, say no more:

And now ^note I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving ^note discontents ^note
I'll read you ^note matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
As to o'er-walk a current ^note roaring loud
On the unsteadfast ^note footing ^note of a spear.

Hot.
If he ^note fall in, good night! or sink or swim ^note:
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it ^note from the north to south,
And let them grapple: O ^note, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!

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

Hot. ^note
By heaven, methinks it were an ^note easy leap,
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced 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 ^note all ^note her dignities:
But out upon this half-faced fellowship!

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

Hot.
I cry you mercy.

Wor.
Those same noble Scots

That are your prisoners ^note,—

Hot.
I'll keep them all;
By God ^note, 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 ^note, 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 ^note ‘Mortimer!’
Nay,
I'll ^note have a starling shall be ^note taught to speak ^note
Nothing but ‘Mortimer,’ and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor.
Hear ^note you, cousin; a word.

Hot.
All studies here I solemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke:
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 would ^note have him poison'd ^note with a pot of ale.

Wor.
Farewell, kinsman: I'll ^note talk to you
When you are better temper'd to attend.

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

Hot.
Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods,
Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time,—what do you ^note call the place?—
A plague upon it ^note, it is in Gloucestershire;
'Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York; where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king ^note of smiles, this Bolingbroke,—
'Sblood ^note!—
When you and he came back from Ravenspurgh.

North.
At Berkley-castle.

Hot.
You say true:
Why, what a candy deal of ^note courtesy
This fawning greyhound ^note then did proffer me!
Look, ‘when his ^note infant fortune came to age,’
And ‘gentle Harry Percy,’ and ‘kind cousin;’
O ^note, the devil take such cozeners! God forgive me!
Good uncle, tell your tale; I have ^note done.

Wor.
Nay, if you have not ^note, to it ^note again;
We will ^note stay ^note your leisure ^note.

Hot.
I have done, i' faith ^note.

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

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

Hot.
Of ^note York, is it ^note not?

Wor.
True; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristol ^note, the Lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,
As what I think might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted and set down,
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

Hot. ^note
I smell it: upon ^note my life, it will do well ^note.

North.
Before the game is ^note a-foot, thou still let'st slip.

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

Wor.
And ^note 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 by raising of a head;
For, bear ourselves as even as we can,
The king will always think him in our debt,
And think we think ^note ourselves unsatisfied,
Till he ^note hath found a time to pay us home:
And see already how he ^note doth begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot.
He does, he does: we'll be revenged on him.

Wor.
Cousin, farewell: no further go in this

Than I by letters shall direct your course.
When time is ripe, which will be suddenly ^note,
I'll steal to Glendower and Lord ^note Mortimer ^note;
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.
Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust.

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

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