North.
I prethee, loving Wife, and gentle Daughter,
Give an even way unto my rough Affairs.
Put not you on the Visage of the Times,
And be like them to Percy, troublesome.

L. North.
I have given over, I will speak no more;
Do what you will: Your Wisdom be your Guide.

North.
Alas, sweet Wife, my Honour is at Pawn,
And but my going, nothing can redeem it.

L. Percy.
Oh yet, for Heav'n's sake, go not to these Wars,
The time was, Father, when you broke your word,
When you were more endear'd to it, than now,
When your own Percy, when my Heart-dear Harry,
Threw many a Northward look, to see his Father
Bring up his Powers: But he did long in vain.
Who then persuaded you to stay at home?
There were two Honours lost; yours and your Son's.
For yours, may heav'nly Glory brighten it:
For his, it stuck upon him, as the Sun
In the grey Vault of Heav'n: And by his Light
Did all the Chevalry of England move
To do brave Acts. He was, indeed, the Glass
Wherein the noble Youth did dress themselves.
He had no Legs, that practis'd not his Gate:
And speaking thick, which Nature made his blemish,
Became the Accents of the Valiant,
For those that could speak low, and tardily,
Would turn their own Perfection to Abuse,
To seem like him. So that in Speech, and Gate,
In Diet, in Affections of delight,
In Military Rules, Humors of Blood,
He was the Mark, and Glass, Copy, and Book,
That fashion'd others. And him, O wondrous him!
O Miracle of Men! Him did you leave
Second to none, un-seconded by you,

To look upon the hideous God of War,
In disadvantage, to abide the Field,
Where nothing but the sound of Hot-spur's Name
Did seem defensible: So you left him.
Never, O never do his Ghost the wrong,
To hold your Honour more precise and nice
With others, than with him. Let them alone:
The Marshal and the Archbishop are strong.
Had my sweet Harry had but half their Number,
To day might I (hanging on Hot-spur's Neck)
Have talk'd of Monmouth's Grave.

North.
Beshrew your Heart,
Fair Daughter, you do draw my Spirits from me,
With new lamenting ancient Over-sights.
But I must go, and meet with danger there;
Or it will seek me in another place,
And find me worse provided.

L. North.
O fly to Scotland,
'Till that the Nobles, and the armed Commons,
Have of their Puissance made a little taste.

L. Percy.
If they get Ground, and 'vantage of the King,
Then join you with them, like a Rib of Steel,
To make Strength stronger. But, for all our loves,
First let them try themselves. So did your Son,
He was so suffer'd; so came I a Widow:
And never shall have length of Life enough,
To rain upon Remembrance with mine Eyes,
That it may grow and sprout, as high as Heaven,
For Recordation to my Noble Husband.

North.
Come, come, go in with me: 'tis with my Mind
As with the Tyde, swell'd up unto his height,
That makes a still-stand, running neither way.
Fain would I go to meet the Archbishop,
But many a thousand Reasons hold me back:
I will resolve for Scotland; there am I,
'Till Time and Vantage crave my Company. [Exeunt.

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