wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and, in the reproof of this, lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my Lord. [Exit Poiss. P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold

The unyok'd humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun;
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds.
To smother up bis beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for

come,

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time, when men think least I will.

[Exit.

The same.

SCENE. III.

Another Room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and Others.

K. Hen. 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, he sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young
down,

And therefore lost that title of respect,

Which the proud soul 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 to make so portly.

North. My Lord,

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger

And disobedience in thine eye: 0, 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.

You were about to speak.

--

[Exit WORCESTER.

[To NORTHUMBERLAND.

North. Yea, my good Lord.

Those prisoners in your Highness' name der manded,

Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As is 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 he should not;

mad,

for he made me

To see him shine so brisk, aud smell so sweet,

And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,
Of guns, and drums, aud wounds, (God save the
maik!)

And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was spermaceti, for a inward bruise;
And that is was great pity, so it was,
That villainous 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 a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my Lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;

And, I beseech you, let not his 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 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. Hen. Why, yet he 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 my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those, that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damu'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers them
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?

No,

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 bare 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 helie him, Percy, thon
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 not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak O Motimer:
Send me your prisoners with the speediest
means,

VOL. IX.