He would himself have been a soldier. This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord, And, I beseech you, let not his report Betwixt my love and your high majesty. Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said, K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners; But with proviso, and exception, That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight 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, He did confound the best part of an hour In changing hardiment with great Glendower: Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink, Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood; Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks, Colour her working with such deadly wounds; 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 him, He never did encounter with Glendower; I tell thee, He durst as well have met the devil alone, Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. [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, North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and pause a-while; Here comes your uncle. Hot. Re-enter Worcester. Speak of Mortimer? 'Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew [To Worcester. mad. Wor. Who struck this heat up after I was gone? Hot. 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. I cannot blame him: Was he not pro claim'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 C (Whose wrongs in us God pardon!) did set forth Upon his Irish expedition; From whence he, intercepted, did return To be depos'd, and, shortly, murdered. 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 To show the line, and the predicament, Wherein you range under this subtle king.- That you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more: And now I will unclasp a secret book, Hot. If he fall in, good night:-or sink of swim: Send danger from the east unto the west, North. Imagination of some great exploit 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, |