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Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.
North. He was; I heard the proclamation : And then it was, when the unhappy king (Whose wrongs in us God pardon !) did set forth Upon his Irish expedition ; From whence he, intercepted, did return, To be deposed, and, shortly, murdered. Wor. And for whose death, we, in the world's
wide mouth, Live scandalised, and foully spoken of. Hot. But, soft, I pray you. Did king Richard
He did; myself did hear it.
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
them both in an unjust behalf,—
Peace, cousin; say no more : And now I will unclasp a secret book, And to your quick-conceiving discontents I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; As full of peril and adventurous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. Hot. If he fall in, good night!-or sink or And let them grapple.—0! the blood more stirs, To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.
swim :Send Danger from the east unto the west, So Honor cross it from the north to south,
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 Honor from the pale-faced moon ; Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned Honor 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 1 here,
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Those same noble Scots,
I'll keep them all :
You start away,
Nay, I will; that 's flat :-
1 Shapes created by his imagination.
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
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 Wales. But that I think his father loves him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would have him poison'd with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you, When you are better temper'd 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 whipp'd and scourged
with rods, Nettled and stung with pismires, 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 Glostershire ;'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,
North. At Berkley castle.
Hot. You say true. Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me ! Look,— When his infant fortune came to age,'— And,-' gentle Harry Percy,'—and, kind cousin,'O, the devil take such cozeners ! -God forgive
Wor. Nay, if you have not, to 't again ;
I have done, i' faith.
[to Northumberland, Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd, Shall secretly into the bosom creep Of that same noble prelate, well beloved, The archbishop.
Hot. Of York, is 't not?
Wor. True; who bears hard