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.

7 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 fome mifchance,
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 wafp-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 stung with pifinires, when I hear
Of this vile politician Bolingbroke.

In Richard's time-what do ye 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 cattle.

Hot. You fay true:

Why, what a deal of candy'd 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 cozeners-God forgive me-
Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done.

And that fame ford-andbuckler Prince of Wales.] A Royler, or turbulent fellow, that fought in the taverns, or railed diforders in the freets, was

called a fuah-buckler. In this fenfe fword-and-buckler is ufed

here.

Alluding to what paffed in King Richard, A&t II. Sc.

Wor. Nay, if you have not, to't again; We'll ftay your leifure.

Hot. I have done, i'faith.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.

[To Hot-fpur. Deliver them without their ransom straight,

And make the Dowglas? Son your only mean
For Pow'rs in Scotland; which, for divers reafons
Which I fhall fend you written, be affur'd,

Will eafily be granted.-You, my lord, [To North.
Your Son in Scotland being thus employ'd,
Shall fecretly into the bofom creep

Of that fame noble Prelate, well belov'd,
Th' Archbishop.

Hot. York, is't not?

Wor. True, who bears hard

His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop.
I fpeak not this in eftimation,

As what, I think, might be; but what, I know,
Is ruminated, plotted and fet down;

And only stays but to behold the face

Of that occafion, that fhall bring it on.

Hot. I fmell it. On my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still lett'ft * flip.

I speak not this in eftimation,] Eftimation for conjecture. But between this and the foregoing verse it appears there were fome lines which are now loft. For, confider the fenfe. What was it that was ruminated, plotted, and fet down? Why, as the text ftands at prefent, that the Archbishop bore his brother's death bard. It is plain then that they were fome confequences of that refentment which the speaker informed Hot-fpur of, and to which his conclufion of, I speak not this by conjecture, but on good proof, must be referred. But fome

player, I fuppofe, thinking the fpeech too long, ftruck them out.

WARBURTON.

If the Editor had, before he wrote his note, read ten lines forward, he would have seen that nothing is omitted. Worcester gives a dark hint of a confpiracy. Hot pur fmells it, that is, guesses it. Northumberland reproves him for not fuffering Worcester to tell his defign. Hot-fpur, according to the vehemence of his temper, still follows his own conjecture.

To let flip is, to loofe the greyhound.

Hot. It cannot chufe but be a noble Plot; And then the Power of Scotland and of York To join with Mortimer---ha!

Wor. So they fhall.

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. Wor. And 'tis no little reafon bids us fpeed To fave 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 deem ourselves unfatisfy'd, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And fee already, how he doth begin To make us ftrangers to his looks of love. Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him. Wor. Coufin, farewel. No further go in this, Than I by letters fhall direct your course. When time is ripe, which will be fuddenly, I'll fteal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer, Where you and Dowglas, and our Pow'rs at once, (As I will fashion it) fhall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own ftrong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty,

North. Farewel, good brother; we shall thrive, I truft.

Hot. Uncle, adieu. O let the hours be short, 'Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our fport!

A bead is a body of forces. This is a natural description of the ftate of mind between thofe that have conferred, and thofe that have received, obliga

[Exeunt.

tions too great to be fatisfied.

That this would be the event of Northumberland's disloyalty, was predicted by King Richard in the former play.

ACT

ACT II.

II. SCENE I.

An Inn at Rochefter.

Enter a Carrier with a Lanthorn in his Hand.

I CARRIER.

EIGH ho! an't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd. Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horfe not packt. What, oftler?

Oft. [within.] Anon, anon.

1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cutt's faddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers, out of all cefs.

Enter another Carrier.

2 Car. Peafe and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the 3 bots: this houfe is turn'd upfide down, fince Robin Oftler dy'd.

1 Car. Poor fellow never joy'd fince the price of oats rofe; it was the death of him.

2 Car. I think, this be the moft villianous house in all London road for fleas : I am ftung like a Tench. 1 Car. Like a Tench? by th' Mafs, there's ne'er

a King in Christendom could be better bit than I have been fince the firft cock.

2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jourden, and then we leak in your chimney and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a Loach.

1 Car. What, oftler!-Come away, and be hang'd, come away.

2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger to be deliver'd as far as Charing-crofs.

1 Car. 'Odsbody, the Turkies in my panniers are quite ftarv'd. What, oftler! a plague on thee! haft thou never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? an 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain.-Come and be hang'dhaft no faith in thee?

Enter Gads-hill.

Gads. Good-morrow, carriers. What's o'clock ? Car. I think, it be two o'clock.

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lanthorn, to fee my gelding in the ftable.

1 Car. Nay, foft, I pray ye; I know a trick worth two of that, i'faith.

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine.

2 Car. Ay, when? canft tell?-lend me thy lanthorn, quoth a!marry, I'll fee thee hang'd first.

Gads. Sirrah, carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?

2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee.-Come, neighbour Mugges, we'll call

like a Loach.] Scotch, a from the Raze mentioned here. lake. WARBURTON. The former fignifies no more than a fingle Root of it; but a Raze is the Indian Term for a

› And two Razes of Ginger.] As our Author in feveral Pallages mentions a Race of Ginger, I thought proper to distinguish it

Bale of it.

THEOBALD.

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