Of my wife's brother, then his cheek looked pale, And on my face he turned an eye of death, Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. Wor. I cannot blame him. Was he not pro- By Richard that dead is, the next of blood? From whence he, intercepted, did return Wor. And for whose death, we in the wide world's mouth Live scandalised and foully spoken of. Hot. But soft, I pray you: did King Richard, then, Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer North. He did: myself did hear it. Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more: Hot. If he fall in, good night: or sink or Send danger from the east unto the west, North. Imagination of some great exploit Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drownéd 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 figures here, But not the form of what he should attend.Good cousin, give me audience for awhile. Hot. I cry you mercy. Wor. Those same noble Scots That are your prisoners,— 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 "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 WalesBut that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I'd have him poisoned with a pot of ale. Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you, When you are better tempered to attend. North. Why, what a wasp-tongue 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 whipped and scourged with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear Deliver them up without their ransom straight, [To NORTHUMBERLAND. Hot. Of York, is 't not? Wor. True: who bears hard His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop. As what I think might be, but what I know Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aimed. Wor. And 't is 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 unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already how he doth begin To make 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 :-O, let the hours be short, Till fields and blows and groans applaud our sport! [Exeunt. 1st Car. Poor fellow! never joyed since the price of oats rose: it was the death of him. 2nd Car. I think this be the most villanous house in all London road for fleas : I am stung like a tench. 1st Car. Like a tench? by the mass, there is ne'er a king in Christendom could be better bit than I have been since the first cock. 2nd Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds flees like a loach. 1st Car. What, ostler! come away and be hanged, come away. 2nd Car. I have a gammon of bacon and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing cross. 1 Car. 'Od's body! the turkeys in my pannier SCENE III.-Warkworth. 4 Room in the Castle. Enter HOTSPUR, reading a letter. -"But for mine own part, my lord, I could be weil contented to be there, in respect of the love I bear your house." He could be contented; why is he not then? In respect 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 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 this flower, safety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous; the friends you have named uncertain; the time itself unsorted; and your whole plot too light for the counterpoise 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 lackbrain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends 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 were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself; Lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and Owen Glendower? is there not, beside, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next month; and are they not, some of them, set forward already? What a pagan rascal is this: an infidel! Ha, you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, he will to the King and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action! Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared: I will set forward to-night. Enter LADY PERCY. How now, Kate? I must leave you within these two hours. Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus alone: For what offence have this fortnight been A banished woman from my Harry's bed? Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thec Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth, And start so often when thou sitt'st alone? Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy checks, And given my treasures and my rights of thec Of sallies and retires; of trenches, tents, Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, Enter Servant. Serv. He is, my lord, an hour ago. the sheriff? Serv. One horse, my lord, he brought even now. Hot. That roan shall be my throne.Well, I will back him straight.-Esperancé!— Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. [Exit Servant. A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen Hot. So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. thee not; I care not for thee, Kate. This is no world |