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. Hen. 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 brow.
You have good leave to leave us; when we need
Your use and counsel we shall send for you.-
[Exit WOR.
You were about to speak.
[To NORTH.
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 denied
As was 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,
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 in snuff: and still he smil'd and talk'd;
And as the soldiers bore 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

He question'd me; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold,

To be so pester'd with a popinjay,
Out of my grief and my impatience
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or 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 sovreign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowe's 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 unjoint'd chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not this report
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 re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What he then said, so he unsay it now.

K Her Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners;

| But with proviso, and exception,
That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straigh
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, in 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 married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with feres,
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!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war;-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;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base 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. Hen. 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 thou not asham'd? 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 HENRY, BLUNT, ana
Train.

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, Although it be with hazard of my head. North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause awhile; Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter WORCESTER

Hot. Speak of Mortimer ? 'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul Want mercy, if I do not join with him: In his behalf I'll empty all these veins, And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust, But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer As high i' the air as this unthankful king As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke. North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad. [To WORCESTER Wor. Who struck 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 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 murthered.

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

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

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:-

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 murtherous 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, if 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 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 unto 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 adventurous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot. If he fall in, good night:--or sink or swim:--

Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple; - the blood more stir
To rouse a lion than to start a hare.

North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
Hot. 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 co-rival, all her dignities:
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

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, 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 with a pot of ale.

Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you, When you are better temper'd to attend. North. Why, what a wasp-tongued 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 d'ye call the place?—
A plague upon't-it is in Gloucestershire;--
Twas where the madcap duke his uncle kept;
His uncle York;-where I first bowed my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg
North. At Berkley Castle.