K. H.
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,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;14Q0611
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title ^note of respect,
Which the proud soul ^note 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 ^note to make so portly.

Nor.
My lord,— [to the King.

K. H.
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
The moody frontier 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 Worcester.
You were about to speak. [to Nor.

Nor.
Yea, 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 deny'd
As is deliver'd ^note to your majesty:
Either envy ^note, therefore, or misprision
Is guilty ^note 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 extream toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, and trim drest ^note,
Fresh as a bride-groom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Shew'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 in snuff ^note:—and still he smil'd, 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; among ^note the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold ^note,
Out of my grief14Q0612 and my impatience
To be so pester'd with a popin-jay,
Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what,
He should,—he ^note should ^note 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 thing on earth
Was parmacity, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous ^note salt-petre should be dig'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 indirectly ^note, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not his ^note report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Blu.
The circumstance consider'd, good my lord,
Whatever ^note Harry ^note 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
To do him wrong, or any way impeach;
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. H.
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 the great ^note magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, that earl ^note of March
Hath lately marry'd. Shall our coffers then
Be empty'd, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
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 the chance of war;—14Q0613To 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;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow ^note bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base and ^note 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 ^note be slander'd with revolt.

K. H.
Thou dost bely him, Percy, thou dost bely him,
He never did encounter with Glendower;
He ^note durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy:
Art not ^note asham'd to say't? 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. [Exeunt King, Blunt, and Train.

Hot.
An 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,
Although it be with hazard ^note of my head.

Nor.
What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause a while;
Here comes your uncle. Re-enter Worcester.

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

Nor.
Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.

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 an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

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

Nor.
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) murthered.

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

Hot.
But, soft, I pray you; Did king Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmond ^note Mortimer
Heir to the crown?

Nor.
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 ^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 murtherous 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 rather?—
O, pardon me, that ^note 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, 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 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 ^note of your deaths. ^note
Therefore, I say,—

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

Hot.
If he fall in,14Q0614 good night:—or sink, or swim ^note:—
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from ^note the north to south,
And let them grapple;—O, ^note the blood more stirs,
To rouze a lion, than to start a hare.

Nor.
Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. ^note
By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap,
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 of her ^note dignities:
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

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

Hot.
I cry you mercy.

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

Hot.
I'll keep them all,
By heaven ^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, 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 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,
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'd have him poison'd ^note with a pot of ale.

Wor.
Fare you well, kinsman; I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.

Nor.
Why, what a wasp-tongue ^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 whip'd and scourg'd with rods,
Nettl'd, 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'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,—'Sblood ^note!
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.

Nor.
At Berkley castle.

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

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

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

Hot.
Of York, is't not?

Wor.
True; who bears hard
His brother's death at Bristol, 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.
I smell't; upon my life, it will do well. ^note

Nor.
Before the game's afoot, thou still let'st slip.

Hot.
Why, it cannot choose 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 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 ourselves unsatisfy'd,
'Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
And see already, how he doth ^note begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.

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 ^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.

Nor.
Farewel, 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.

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