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and steer'd

Bade the rough waves subside in peace,
Your shatter'd vessel safe into the harbour.

You may despise, perhaps, that useless aid,
Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend deserves a foe.

Edw. Know too, reproach for benefits receiv'd
Pays ev'ry debt, and cancels obligation.

War. Why that indeed is frugal honesty;
A thrifty, saving knowledge: when the debt
Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharg'd,
sponge will wipe out all, and cost you nothing.


Edw. When you have counted o'er the num'rous train Of mighty gifts your bounty lavish'd on me,

You may remember next the injuries,

Which I have done you; let me know them all,

And I will make you ample satisfaction.

War. Thou canst not thou hast robb'd me of a jewel

It is not in thy power to restore;

I was the first, shall future annals say,

That broke the sacred bond of public trust,
And mutual confidence; ambassadors
In after times, mere instruments perhaps
Of venal statesmen, shall recal my name,
To witness that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt, to sanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves,

That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick,
To be the shameless herald of a lie?

Edw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me? If I have broke my faith, and stain'd the name

Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels,

That urg'd me to it, and extorted from me

A cold consent to what my heart abhorr'd.
War. I've been abus'd, insulted, and betray'd;
My injur'd honcur cries aloud for vengeance!
Her wounds will never close.

Edw. These gusts of passion
Will but inflame them.

If I have been right
Inform'd, my lord, beside these dang'rous scars
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal; such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can curc.

War. Elizabeth!

Edw. Nay, start not; I have cause
To wonder most: I little thought indeed,
When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me:

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Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy fruitless base endeavours to supplant me.

Edw. I scorn it, Sir-Elizabeth hath charms,
And I have equal right with you t'admire them;
Nor see I ought so godlike in the form,
So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the charms
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

War. By Heav'n, 'tis false!

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You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,
While I was busied in the noble office
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,
To bribe her passions high, and basely steal
A treasure, which your kingdom could not purchase.
How know you that?
But be it as it may,

I had a right; nor will I tamely yield

My claim to happiness, the privilege

To choose the partner of my throne and bed;

It is a branch of my prerogative.

War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants ! A borrow'd jewel, glitt'ring in the crown

With specious lustre, lent but to betray :

You had it, Sir, and hold it-from the people.

Edw. And therefore do I prize it: I would guard
Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine;
But when proud Faction, and her rebel crew,
nsult their sov'reign, trample on his laws,
And bid defiance to his pow'r, the people,
In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.

War. Go to your darling people, then; for soon,
If I mistake not, 'twill be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them
Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause,
If I forbid them.

Edw. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long,
And you have rul'd me with a rod of iron;

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master,
And will be so the king who delegates

His pow'r to others' hands but ill deserves
The crown he wears.


Look well then to your own;

It sits but loosely on your head; for know,
The man who injur'd Warwick never pass'd
Unpunish❜d yet.

Edw. Nor he who threaten'd Edward-
You may repent it, Sir-my guards there-seize
This traitor, and convey him to the Tow'r;
There let him learn obedience.




Glen. SIT, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur ;

For by that name as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale! and with

A risen sigh, he wisheth you in Heav'n.

Hot. And you in Hell, as often as he hears

Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glen. I blame him not at my nativity The front of Heav'n was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets; know, that at my birth The frame and the foundation of the earth Shook like a coward.

Hot. So it would have done

At the same season, if your mother's cat

Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glen. I say, the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. I say, the earth then was not of my mind,
If you suppose, as fearing you it shook.

BOOK VI. Glen. The Heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the Heav'ns on fire! And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth

In strange eruptions; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd,
By the impris'ning of unruly wind

Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down
High tow'rs and moss-grown steeples. At your birth,
Our grandam earth with this distemperature
In passion shook.


Cousin, of many men

I do not bear these crossings: give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of Heav'n was full of fiery shapes;
The goats ran from the mountains; and the herds
Were strangely clam'rous in the frighted fields:
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show,

I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the sea

That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?

And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,

Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh. Glen. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you; For I was train'd up in the English court,

Where, being young, 1 framed to the harp

Many an English ditty lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;

A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart;

I'd rather be a kitten, and cry mew!

Than one of these same metre-balladmongers!

I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,

Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,

And that would nothing set my teeth on edge,

Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
"Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.-
Glen. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hot. Why so can I, or so can any man;
But will they come, when you do call for them?
Glen. Why, I can teach thee to command the devil.
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,
By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.-
If thou hast pow'r to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn I've pow'r to drive him bence.
O, while you live, Tell truth, and shame the devil.

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Bur for my own part, my Lord, I could be well con"tented to be there in respect of the love I bear your "house." He could be contented to be there; why is he not then? "In respect of the love he bears our house?" He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. "The pur


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pose you undertake is dangerous." Why, that is certain: it is 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 this is! Why, my lord of York commends the plot, and the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Are there not my father, my uncle, and myself, lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, and

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