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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 hardimentt with great Glendower:
Three times they breathed, 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 I 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 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 not ashamed ? 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, and 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.
Hot. Speak of Mortimer!
Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him:
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
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.
Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;
And when I urged 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 deposed, and shortly, murdered.
Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth Live scandalized, and foully spoken of.
Hot. But soft, I pray you; Did king Richard then
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer
Heir to the crown?
North. He did; myself did hear it.
Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starved.
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 murd'rous subordination,-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 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’dt contempt,
Of this proud king; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes to 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 advent'rous spirit,
As to o’er-walk 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 ;-0! the blood more stirs,
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-faced moon;
Or dive unto 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,* all her dignities :
But out upon this half-faced fellowship !+.
Wor. He apprehends a world of figurest here,
But not the form of what he should attend
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Those same noble Scots,
That are your prisoners,
Hot. I'll keep them all;
By heaven he shall not have a Scot of them :
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.
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;
Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla-Mortimer!
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-stung 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 scourged with rods,
Nettled and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time-What do you 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,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
North. At Berkley castle.
Hot. You say true:
Why, what a candy* deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look, when his infant fortune came to age,
And,—gentle Harry Percy,-and, kind cousin,-
0, the devil take such cozeners !- -God forgive me !
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again;
We'll stay your leisure.
Hot. I have done, i' faith.
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 assured,
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 beloved,
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 it; upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's a-foot, 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 we always think him in our debt;
And think we think ourselves unsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
And see already, how he doth begin
us strangers to his looks of love.
Hot. He does, he does; we'll be revenged on him.
Wor. Cousin, farewell :-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;
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.
North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu 0, let the hours be short,
Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport ! [Exeunt.
SCENE I.-Rochester. An Inn Yard.
Enter a CARRIER, with a Lantern in his hand. 1 Car. Heigh ho! An't-be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd: Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. What, ostler !
Ost. [within]. Anon, anon.
i Car. I pry'thee, Tom, beat Cut's saddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cess.t
Enter another CARRIER. 2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots:& this house is turned upside down, since Robin ostler died.
1 Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price of oats rose; it was the death of him.
2 Car. I think, this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas: I am stung like a tench.ll