Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whofe daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately marry'd. Shall our coffers then
Be empty'd, to redeem a traitor home?

Shall we buy treafon ? and indent with fears,
When they have loft and forfeited themselves?
No; on the barren mountains let him ftarve;
For I fhall never hold that man my friend,
fhall ask me for one penny coft

Whose tongue

To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer?

He never did fall off, my fovereign 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 fedgy bank,
In fingle oppofition, 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 fwift Severn's flood;
Who then affrighted with their bloody looks,
Kan fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp'd head in the hollow bank,
Blood-ftained with thefe valiant Combatants.
Never did base and rotten Policy

Colour her working with fuch deadly wounds;
Nor ever could the noble Mortimer
Receive fo many, and all willingly.

Then let him not be flander'd with Revolt.

K. Henry. Thou doft belie him, Percy, thou belieft

him;

He never did encounter with Glendower;

He durft as well have met the Devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art not afham'd? but, firrah, from this hour
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer.

Send

Send me your prifoners with the speedieft means,
Or you fhall hear in fuch a kind from me
As will displease you-My Lord Northumberland,
We licence your departure with your fon.
Send us your prifoners, or you'll hear of it.
[Exit K. Henry.
Hot. And if the Devil come and roar for them,
I will not fend them. I will after strait,
And tell him fo; for I will ease my

heart, Although it be with hazard of my head.

North. What, drunk with choler? ftay, and pause a while;

Enter Worcester.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

Yes, I will speak of him; and let my foul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him.
In his behalf, I'll empty all thefe veins,
And fhed my dear blood drop by drop in duft,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer

As high i'th' Air as this unthankful King,
As this ingrate and cankred Bolingbroke.

mad.

North. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew [To Worcester. Wor. Who ftrook this heat up, after I was gone? Hot. He will, forfooth, have all my prifoners: And when I urg'd the ranfom 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 ev'n 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 (Whofe wrongs in us, God pardon!) did fet forth Upon his Irish expedition;

From

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and shortly murdered.

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

Live fcandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot. But foft, I pray you;-did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Mortimer

Heir to the Crown?

North. He did; myfelf did hear it.

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his coufin King. That wifh'd him on the barren mountains ftarv'd. But fhall it be, that you, that fet the Crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his fake wear the detefted blot Of murderous Subornation? fhall it be, That you a world of curfes undergo, Being the agents or base second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? (O pardon me, that I defcend fo low, To fhew the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this fubtle King) Shall it for fhame be spoken in these days, Or fill up Chronicles in time to come, That men of your Nobility and Power Ingag'd them Both in an unjuft behalf; (As Both of you, God pardon it! have done:) Το put down Richard, that fweet lovely Rofe, And plant this Thorn, this Canker Bolingbroke? And hall it in more fhame be further spoken, That you are fool'd, difcarded, and fhook off By him, for whom these shames ye underwent? No; yet time ferves, wherein you may redeem Your banish'd Honours, and reftore yourselves Into the good thoughts of the world again. Revenge the jeering and difdain'd contempt Of this proud King, who studies day and night To answer all the debt he owes unto you, Ev'n with the bloody payments of your deaths: Therefore, I fay

Wor.

Wor. Peace, Coufin, fay no more.
And now I will unclafp a fecret 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 unfteadfaft footing of a fpear.

Hot. If he fall in, good night. Or fink or fwim,
Send Danger from the east unto the weft,
So Honour crofs it from the north to fouth;
And let them grapple.-O! the blood more ftirs
To rouze a Lion, than to ftart a Hare.

North. Imagination of fome great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. By heav'n, methinks, it were an eafy 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 Corrival all her Dignities.

But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend. Good Coufin, give me audience for a while, Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor, Thofe fame noble Scots,

That are your prifoners

Hot. I'll keep them all.

By heav'n, he fhall not have a Scot of them:
No, if a Scot would fave his foul, he shall not;
I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You ftart away,

And lend no ear unto my purposes;
Those prifoners you fhall keep.

Hot. I will; that's flat:

He said, he would not ransom Mortimer :
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer:

But

But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his car I'll holla, Mortimer!
Nay, I will have a Starling taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger ftill in motion.

Wor. Hear you, coufin, a word.

Hot. All Studies here I folemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke:
And that fame fword 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. Farewel, my kinfman; I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.

North. Why, what a wasp-tongu'd 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 whipt and fcourg'd with rods,

Nettled, and ftung with pifmires, 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 Glo'ftershire-
'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 fay true:

Why, what a deal of candied Courtesy

This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look, when his infant fortune came to age,

And gentle Harry Percy—and kind coufin

The Devil take fuch couzeners- -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.