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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 spermaceti, for an inward bruise;

And that it was great pity, so it was,

That villainous salt-petre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyed
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 retold,
May reasonably die, and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach;
What then he 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 leave 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,
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,

Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,

And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare 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 him.

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.

[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 pause

awhile;

Here comes your uncle.

Hot.

Re-enter WORCESTER.

Speak of Mortimer?

'Zounds, 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.

mad.

North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew [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 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 1,

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

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,
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 20 }
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

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