North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew mad.! 1 [To WORCESTER, Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone? Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; And when I urg'd the ransome once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale; And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,2 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? From whence he, intercepted, did return To be depos'd, and shortly, murdered. V Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth Live scandaliz'd, and foully, spoken of. 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 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 show the line, and the predicament, 2 an eye of death,] That is, an eye menacing death. Wherein you range under this subtle king.- your deaths. Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more; Hot. If he fall in, good night:-or sink or swim : Send danger from the east unto the west, North. Imagination of some great exploit 3 this canker, Bolingbroke?] The canker-rose is the dogrose, the flower of the Cynosbaton. 4-disdain'd] For disdainful. 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!5 Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, Wor. That are your prisoners, Hot. Those same noble Scots, 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 I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak 5 But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!] A coat is said to be faced, when part of it, as the sleeves or bosom, is covered with something finer or more splendid than the main substance. The mantua-makers still use the word. Half-fac'd fellowship is then "partnership but half-adorned, partnership which yet wants half the show of dignities and honours." JOHNSON. 6 a world of figures here,] Figures mean shapes created by Hotspur's imagination. Wor. Cousin; a word. Hear you, Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: But that I think his father loves him not, 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; 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! " And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales,] A royster or turbulent fellow, that fought in taverns, or raised disorders in the streets, was called a Swash-buckler. In this sense sword-andbuckler is here used. Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. Hot. I have done, i'faith. Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Deliver them up without their ransome straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers in Scotland; which,-for divers rea sons, Which I shall send you written,―be assur'd, [TO NORTHUMBERLAND. Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,Shall secretly into the bosom creep 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. As what I think might be, but what I know Hot. I-smell it; upon my life, it will do well. slip. Hot. Why, it cannot choose 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. Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed, I speak not this in estimation,] Estimation for conjecture let'st slip.] To let slip, is to loose the greyhound |