Those mouthed wounds, which, valiantly, he took, He did confound the best part of an hour Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Colour her working with such deadly wounds; Receive so many, and all willingly: Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. K. Hen. [Rises.] 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 will displease you.-My Lord Northumberland, [Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-Exeunt all Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, Although I make a hazard of my head. North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause awhile. Here comes your uncle. Enter WORCEster. Hot. Speak of Mortimer! Yes, I will speak of him; and let my soul Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, As high i' the air as this unthankful king, North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners: And when I urg'd 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 Heaven pardon!) did set forth Upon his Irish expedition; From whence he, intercepted, did return To be depos'd, and, shortly, murdered. 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 starv'd. But shall't, 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, Heaven pardon it! have done,) To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose, deaths : Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more: or swim : And let them grapple ;--Oh! 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-fac'd moon; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 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 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; Wor. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes.― Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat: He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you, 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 scourg'd with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear In Richard's time,-What do you call the place?— Hot. You say true; Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! sin," And," gentle Harry Percy,"-and, "kind cou Oh, the devil take such cozeners! me! -Heaven forgive Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. We'll stay your leisure. Hot. I have done, i'faith. Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.- Of that same noble prelate, well belov'd, 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 And only stays but to behold the face Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well. North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still lett'st slip. Hot. Why, it cannot chuse 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. |