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. (L.) Our house, my sovereign liege, little de-

serves

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. (R. second from front.) My lord,

K. Hen. (Hastily rising.) Worcester, get thee gone; for I do see

Danger and disobedience in thine eye:

O, sir,

Your presence is too bold and peremptory;
And majesty might never yet endure

The bloody frontier of a servant brow.

You have good leave to leave us: when we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you. (Sits.)

You were about to speak.

North. Yea, my good lord.

[Exit Worcester, L. [Turning 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.

Hot. (R.) 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,
Show'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, which ever and anon

He gave his nose, and took't away again;

And still he smil'd, 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 hoyday 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,
Out of my grief and my impatience,

To be so pester'd with a poppinjay,

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, (Heaven 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. (L.) 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 he then said, so he unsay it now.

K. Hen. 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 Glendow'r:
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. (R.) Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,

But by the chance of war: [Nearer to the King.] 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,

He did confound the best part of an hour

In changing hardiment with great Glendower : Three times they breath'd, [Returns to the R.] and three times they did drink,

Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;

Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And 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, [Rising] thou dost belie him,

He never did encounter with Glendower;

I tell thee, [Advancing c.]

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 will license your departure with your son:

Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.

[Going L.

[Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.-Exeunt all but Northumberland and Hotspur, L.

Hot. (L. C.) And, if the devil come and roar for them, I will not send them:-[North. stands R.] I will after

straight,

And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,

Although it be with hazard of my head.

[Going L.

North, [Following.] What, drunk with choler? Stay

and pause awhile;

Here comes your uncle.

Enter WORCEster, L.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

Yes, I will speak of him; and let my soul
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.

Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? Hot. (R.) 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. (L.) I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd, By Richard that is dead, the next of blood?

North. (R.) 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. (c.) But, soft, I pray you: did King Richard

then

Proclaim my brother, Edward 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,
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 unthankful 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 conceiving 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 :-O! the blood more stirs,
To rouse a lion, than to start a hare.

[Crosses to R. North. (c.) Imagination of some great exploit

Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. (R.) 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,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So be, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:-

But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. (R.) 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 your mercy.

Wor. Those same noble Scots,

That are your prisoners

Hot. (c.) 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. (L.) 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;
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer;