And, for because the world is populous,
And here is not a creature but myself,
I cannot do it ;-yet I'll hammer it out.
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul;
My soul, the father: and these two beget
A generation of still-breeding thoughts,

And these same thoughts people this little world;
In humours, like the people of this world,

For no thought is contented. The better sort-
As thoughts of things divine-are intermix'd
With scruples, and do set the word itself
Against the word:

As thus,-"Come, little ones;" and then again,—
"It is as hard to come, as for a camel
To thread the postern of a needle's eye."
Thoughts tending to ambition, they do plot
Unlikely wonders: how these vain weak nails
May tear a passage through the flinty ribs
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls;
And, for they cannot, die in their own pride.
Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves,
Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggars,
Who, sitting in the stocks, refuge their shame,
That many have, and others must sit there:
And in this thought they find a kind of ease,
Bearing their own misfortune on the back
Of such as have before endured the like.
Thus play I, in one persoa, many people,
And none contented: sometimes am I king;
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar,
And so I am: then crushing penury
Persuades me I was better when a king;
Then am I king'd again; and by and by
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke,
And straight am nothing-but whate'er I am,
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is,
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased
With being nothing.-Music do I hear?
Ha, ha! keep time:-how sour sweet music is
When time is broke, and no proportion kept!
So is it in the music of men's lives.
And here have I the daintiness of ear,
To check time broke in a disorder'd string;
But, for the concord of my state and time,
Had not an ear to hear my true time broke.
I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;
For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock:
My thoughts are minutes; and, with sighs, they jar
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outward watch,
Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,

[Music

Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.
Now, Sir, the sounds that tell what hour it is
Are clamorous groans, that strike upon my heart,
Which is the bell: so sighs, and tears, and groans,
Shew minutes, times, and hours:-but my time
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy,
While I stand fooling here, his Jack o' the clock.
This music mads me; let it sound no more;
For though it have nolp madmen to their wits,
In me, it seems, it will make wise men mad.
Yet blessing on his heart that gives it me!
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard
Is a strange brooch in this all-hating world.

Enter Groom.

Groom. Hail, royal prince!
K. Rich. Thanks, noble peer;

The cheapest of us is ten groats too dear.

What art thou? and how comest thou hither,

Where no man ever comes, but that sad dog

That brings me food to make misfortune live?

Groom. I was a poor groom of thy stable, king, When thou wert king; who, travelling towards York, With much ado, at length have gotten leave To look upon my sometimes master's face. O, how it yearn'd my heart, when I beheld, In London streets, that coronation-day, When Bolingbroke rode on roan Barbary! That horse that thou so often hast bestrid; That horce that I so carefully have dress'd!

K. Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me, gentle friend, How went he under him?

Groom. So proudly, as if he disdain'd the ground. K. Rich. So proud that Bolingbroke was on his back! That jade hath eat bread from my royal hand; This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall down, (Since pride must have a fall.) and break the neck Of that proud man that did usurp his back? Forgiveness, horse! why do I rail on thee,

Since thou, created to be awed by man,
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse;
And yet I bear a burden like an ass,
Spur-gall'd, and tired, by jauncing Bolingbroke.
Enter Keeper, with a dish.

Keep. Fellow, give place; here is no longer stay. [To the Groom. K. Rich. If thou love me, 'tis time thou wert away. Groom. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. [Exit.

Keep. My lord, will't please you to fall to? K. Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont to do. Keep. My lord, I dare not; Sir Pierce of Exton, who Lately came from the king, commands the contrary.

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lancaster and thee! Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. [Beats the Keeper. Keep. Help, help, help!

Enter EXTON, and Servants, armed.

K. Rich. How now? what means death in this rude [assault? Villain, thy own hand yields thy death's instrument. [Snatching a weapon, and killing one. Go thou, and fill another room in hell.

[He kills another, then EXTON strikes him down. That hand shall burn in never-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person.-Exton, thy fierce hand Hath with the king's blood stain'd the king's own land. Mount, mount, my soul! thy seat is up on high; Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward here to die. [Dies. Exton. As full of valour, as of royal blood: Both have I spilt; 0, would the deed were good! For now the devil, that told me I did well,

Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.

This dead king to the living king I'll bear ;-
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-WINDSOR. A Room in the Castle. Flourish. Enter BOLINGBROKE and YORK, with Lords and Attendants.

Boling. Kind uncle York, the latest news we hear Is that the rebels have consumed with fire

Our town of Cicester in Glostershire;

But whether they be ta'en, or slain, we hear not.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

Welcome, my lord: what is the news?

North. First, to thy sacred state wish I all happiness. The next news is,-I have to London sent

The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent:
The manner of their taking may appear
At large discoursèd in this paper here.

[Presenting a paper. Boling. We thank thee, gentle Percy, for thy pains; And to thy worth will add right worthy gains.

Enter FITZWATER.

Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to London The heads of Brocas and Sir Bennet Seely; Two of the dangerous consorted traitors, That sought at Oxford thy dire overthrow. Boling. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not be forgot; Right noble is thy merit, well I wot.

Enter PERCY, with the BISHOP OF CARLISLE. Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot of Westminster, With clog of conscience and sour melancholy, Hath yielded up his body to the grave;

But here is Carlisle living, to abide

Thy kingly doom and sentence of his pride.
Boling. Carlisle, this is your doom :-

Choose out some secret place, some reverend room,
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life;
So, as thou liv'st in peace, die free from strife:
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been,
High sparks of honour in thee have I seen.

Enter EXTON, with Attendants bearing a coffin.
Exton. Great king, within this coffin I present

Thy burled fear: herein all breathless lies

The mightiest of thy greatest enemies,
Richard of Bourdeaux, by me hither brought.

Boling. Exton, I thank thee not; for thou hast wrought

A deed of slander, with thy fatal hand, Upon my head, and all this famous land.

deed.

Exton. From your own mouth, my lord, did I this Boling. They love not poison that do poison need, Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,

I hate the murderer, love him murdered.

The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,

But neither my good word, nor princely favour:

ACT L

SIR JOHN FALSTAFF.
POINS.
GADSHILL.
PETO.

BARDOLPH.

LADY PERCY, Wife to HOTSPUR, and Sister to MORTIMER. LADY MORTIMER, Daughter to GLENDOWER, and Wife to MORTIMER.

MRS QUICKLY, Hostess of a Tavern in Eastcheap.

Lords, Officers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers, and Attendants.

SCENE I.-LONDON. A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING HENRY, WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER
BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care,
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant,
And breathe short-winded accents of new broils
To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
No more the thirsty Erinnys of this soil

Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood;
No more shall trenching war channel her fields,
Nor bruise her flow'rets with the armed hoofs
Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes,
Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven,
All of one nature, of one substance bred,-
Did lately meet in the intestine shock
And furious close of civil butchery,
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks,
March all one way, and be no more opposed
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,
As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engaged to fight,)
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy ;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd
For our advantage on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootless 'tis to tell you-we will go;
Therefore we meet not now.-Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question,
And many limits of the charge set down
But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came
A post from Wales loaden with heavy news;
Whose worst was,-that the noble Mortimer,
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,
And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corse there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be
Without much shame re-told or spoken of.

K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

West. This, match'd with other, did, my gracious For more uneven and unwelcome news

[lord;

Came from the north, and thus it did import.
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news.
The earl of Douglas is discomfited;

Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did Sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains: of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son

To beaten Douglas; and the earls of Athol,

Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.
And is not this an honourable spoil?
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.
K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st
In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so blest a son:

[me sin

A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow
Of my young Harry. O, that it could be proved,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged
In cradle clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts.-What think you, coz,
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surprised,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,

I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspécts;
Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this;
And, for this cause, a while we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.
Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor, so inform the lords:
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,

Than out of anger can be uttered. West. I will, my liege.

SCENE II.-The same.

[Exeunt.

Another Room in the Palace. Enter HENRY, Prince of Wales, and FALSTAFF. Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad? P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the i signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colour'd taffeta,-I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me now, Hal; for we that take purses go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phoebus,-he, "that wandering knight so fair." And, I pray thee, sweet wag, when thou art king,-as, God save thy grace (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)

P. Hen. What, none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us, that are squires of the night's body, be called thieves of the day's beauty; let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: and let men say, we be men of good government: being governed, as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed, as the sea is, by the moon. As, for proof, now: a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing"lay by;" and spent with crying-"bring in:" now in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder, and by and by in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows. Fal. By the Lord, thou say'st true, lad. my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench? P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance?

And is not

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and, where it would not, I have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-but, I pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed, as it is, with the rusty curb of old father antic, the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief.

P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fol. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be a brave judge.

P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell

you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'Sblood, I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.

P. Hen. Or an old lion, or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What sayest thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Moor-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes, and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascalliest,-sweet young prince; but, Hal, I pr'ythee, trouble me no more with vanity. I would to God, thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street

about you, Sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not; and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration, and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm upon me, Hal,-God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; an I do not, call me villain, and baffle me.

P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee: from praying to purse-taking.

Enter POINS, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal; 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-Now shall we know if Gadshill have set a match. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried "Stand!" to a true man.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal.-What says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a cup of Madeira and a cold capon's leg?

P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs-he will give the devil his due.

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word with the devil.

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the devil.

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill! There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester; I have bespoke supper to-morrow night in Eastcheap; we may do it as secure as sleep. If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at home, and be hanged.

Fal. Hear me, Yedward; if I tarry at home, and go not, I'll hang you for going.

Poins. You will, chops?

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

P. Hen Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faith. Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the bloodroyal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings.

P. Hen. Well, then once in my days I'll be a madcap. Fal. Why, that's well said.

P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home. Fal. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, when thou art king.

P. Hen. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure, that he shall go.

Fal. Well, mayst thon have the spirit of persuasion and he the cars of profiting, that what thou speakest may move, and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: you shall find me in Eastcheap. P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Farewell, Allhallown summer! [Exit FALSTAFF. Pons. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setting

forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail; and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we'll set upon them.

P. Hen. Ay, but 'tis like that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves,

R

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see,-I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce, to immask our noted outward garments.

P. Hen. But I doubt they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason, I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this same fat rogue will tell us, when we meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured; and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eastcheap; there I'll sup. Farewell.

Poins. Farewell, my lord.

[Exit POINS.

P. Hen. I know you all, and will a while uphold
The unyoked humour of your idleness:
Yet herein will I imitate the sun;

Who doth permit the base contagious clouds
To smother up his beauty from the world,
That, when he please again to be himself,
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at,
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him.
If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;

But when they seldom come, they wish'd-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am,
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;
And, like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall shew more goodly, and attract more eyes,
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time, when men think least I will.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The same. Another Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, Sir WALTER BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities,

And you have found me; for accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: but, be sure,

I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect,

Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud

Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves The scourge of greatness to be used on it;

And that same greatness, too, which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I see danger And disobedience in thine eye: 0, Sir,

Your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.

You have good leave to leave us: when we need
Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.-
[Exit WORCESTER.

You were about to speak.

North. Yea, my good lord.

[TO NORTH.

Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,

Were, as he says, not with such strength denied,

As is deliver'd to your majesty:

Either envy, therefore, or misprision,

Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Shew'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;

And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, whichever and anon
He gave his nose, and took 't away again;-
Who, herewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff:-and still he smiled and talk'd;
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse

Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
With many holiday and lady terms

He question'd me; among the rest demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,
Out of my grief and my impatience,

Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or he should not;-for he made me mad
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the mark!)
And telling me the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
That villanous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns,
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not his report

Come current for an accusation,

Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said,

To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest re-told,
May reasonably die, and never rise

To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Lien. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners;
But with proviso and exception,-

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;

Who, on my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers, then,
Be emptied to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign 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 sedgy bank,

In single opposition, hand to hand,

[drink,

He did confound the best part of an hour
In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
Three times they breathed, and three times did they
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base and rotten policy

Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly:
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie
He never did encounter with Glendower;
I tell thee,

He durst as well have met the devil alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth
Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer:
Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you.-My lord Northumberland,
We license your departure with your son:-
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

[him;

[Exeunt KING HENRY, BLUNT, and train. Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them:-I will after straight, And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head. North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and panse Here comes your uncle.

Re-enter WORCESTER.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer!

'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul

[a while;

Want mercy, if I do not join with him:
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins,
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i' the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew
mad.
[To WORCESTER.

Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;
And when I urged 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 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

Live scandalised, and foully spoken of.

[mouth

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 starved.
Fut shall it be, that you, that set the crown
Upon the head of this forgetful man,
And for his sake wear the detested blot
Of murd'rous subornation,-shall it be,

That you a world of curses undergo;
Being the agents, or base second means,

The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?

O, pardon me, that I descend so low,

To shew the line, and the predicament,
Wherein you range under this subtle king.-
Shall it, 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, God pardon it! have done,-
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him, for whom these shames ye underwent?
No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again:
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
To answer all the debt he owes to you,

Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say,--

Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conce.ving 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 unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot. If he fall in, good night:-or sink or swim:
Send danger from the east unto the west,
So honour cross it from the north to south,
And let them grapple;-0, 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-faced 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-faced 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 merc.

Wor. Those same no le Scots,

That are your prisoners

Hot. I'll keep them all;

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them:

No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away,

And lend no ear unto my purposes.-
Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:-
He said he would not ransom Mortimer;
Forbade my tougue to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla-" Mortimer!"
Nay,

I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer," and give it him,
To keep his anger 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'd 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-stung and impatient fool Art thou, to break into this woman's mood; Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own!

[rods,

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with 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,
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.
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 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. I have done, i' faith.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Deliver them up without their ransom straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers in Scotland; which, for divers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assured, Will easily be granted.-You, my lord, 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

[TO NORTH.

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

Is ruminated, plotted, and set down;

And only stays but to behold the face.

Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well.

North. Before the game's afoot, thou still let'st lip. Hot. Why, it cannot choos: 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 aith, it is exceedingly well ain't. Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, To save 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 think ourselves unsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay us home. And see already how he doth begin To make us strangers to his looks of love. Hot. He does, he does; we'll be revenged on him. Wor. Cousin, farewell:-No further go in this, Than I by letters shall direct your course. When time is ripe, (which will be suddenly,) I'll steal to Glendower and lord Mort mer; Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once, (As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arias, Which now we hold at much uncerti nty.

North. Farewell, good brother: we shall thrive, I

trust.

Hot. Uncle, adieu:-0, let the hours be short, Till flelds, and blows, and groans applaud our sport! [Exeunt.