Hot.

—But, for mine own part, my lord, [reading.] I could he 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 ^note of the love he bears our house:— he shews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake, [reading again.] 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 ^note this flower, safety. The purpose you undertake, [reading.] is dangerous; the friends you have ^note named, uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoize 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 lack-brain is this? By the lord, our plot is a good plot ^note, as ever was lay'd; our friends ^note 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 commends the plot, and the general course of the action. 'Zounds, an I ^note were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? lord Edmond 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 ^note, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this, an infidel ^note? 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 skim'd ^note milk with so honourable an action. Hang him! let him tell the king, we are prepar'd: I will set forward ^note to-night.—How now, Kate? Enter Lady Percy. I must leave you within these two ^note hours.

Lad.
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 stomack, pleasure, and thy golden sleep?
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the ^note earth;
And start so often, when thou sit'st alone?
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks;
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee,
To thick-ey'd musing, and curst melancholy?
In thy ^note faint slumbers, I by thee have ^note watch'd,
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; of ^note trenches, tents ^note,
Of palisadoes, frontiers ^note, parapets;
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin;
Of prisoners' ransom ^note, and of soldiers slain,
And all the 'currents ^note of a heady fight.
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war,
And thus hath ^note so bestir'd thee in thy sleep,
That beads ^note of sweat have stood ^note 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 ^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! [Enter a Servant.] is Gilliams with the packet gone?

Ser.
He is, my lord, an hour ago ^note.

Hot.
Hath Butler brought ^note those horses from the sheriff's ^note?

Ser.
One horse, my lord, he brought but even now.

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

Ser.
It is, my lord.

Hot.
That roan shall be my throne.
Well, I will back him straight: O ^note, esperance!—14Q0619
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant.

Lad.
But hear you, my lord.

Hot.
What sayest thou, my lady?

Lad.
What is it carries you away?

Hot.
Why, my horse,
My love, my horse.

Lad.
Out, you mad-headed ape!
A weazle hath not such a deal of spleen;

As you are tost with. Now, in sooth ^note, in sooth,
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: But if you go—

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

Lad.
Come, come, you paraquito, answer me
Directly to ^note this question that I ask ^note.
In faith ^note, I'll break thy little finger, Harry,
An ^note if thou wilt not tell me true ^note.

Hot.
Away,
Away, you trifler! Love? I love thee not,
I care not for thee, Kate; this is no world,
To play with mammets, and to tilt with lips:
We must have bloody noses, and crack'd crowns,
And pass them current too.—God's me, my horse!—
What ^note say'st thou, Kate? what would'st thou have with me?

Lad.
Do you ^note not love me? do you ^note 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 ^note in jest, or no.

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

Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know;
And so far will ^note I trust thee, gentle Kate.

Lad.
So ^note far?

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

Lad.
It must, of force. [Exeunt.

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