So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:

But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!

Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.-
Good coufin, give me audience for a while.
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor.

That are your prisoners,—

Hot.

Thofe fame noble Scots,

I'll keep them all;

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them :
No, if a Scot would fave his foul, he shall not:
I'll keep them, by this hand.

You ftart away,

Wor.
And lend no ear unto my purposes.-

Those prisoners you shall keep.

Nay, I will; that's flat:

Hot.
He faid, he would not ransom Mortimer;
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer;
But I will find him when he lies afleep,
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.

Coufin; a word.

Hear you,

Hot. All ftudies here I folemnly defy,

Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke:

And that fame fword-and-buckler prince of Wales,-
But that I think his father loves him not,

And would be glad he met with fome mifchance,

I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.

Wl'or.

Wor. Farewell, kinfman! 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?

Hot. Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods,

Nettled, and ftung with pifmires, 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 Glocestershire ;-
'Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept;
His uncle York ;—where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of fmiles, this Bolingbroke,
When you and he came back from Ravenfpurg.
North. At Berkley castle.

Hot. You fay 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 coufin,-

*

O, the devil take fuch 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' fon your only mean
For powers in Scotland; which,-for divers reasons,
Which I fhall fend you written,-be assur'd,

Will eafily be granted.-You, my lord,—

[TO NORTHUMBERLAND. C 2

Your

Your fon in Scotland being thus employ'd,—
Shall fecretly into the bofom creep

Of that fame noble prelate, well belov'd,

The archbishop.

Hot. Of York, is't not?

Wor. True; who bears hard

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 occafion that fhall bring it on.

Hot. I fmell it; upon my life, it will do well.
North. Before the game's afoot, thou ftill let'ft flip.
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 fo they fhall.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.
Wor. And 'tis no little reafon bids us speed,
To fave 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 unfatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
And fee already, how he doth begin
To make us ftrangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him.
Wor. Coufin, farewell :-No further go in this,
Than I by letters fhall direct your course.
When time is ripe, (which will be fuddenly,)
I'll fteal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer;
Where you and Douglas, and our powers at once,
(As I will fashion it,) fhall happily meet,

Το

To bear our fortunes in our own ftrong arms,
Which now we hold at much uncertainty.

North. Farewell, good brother: We shall thrive, I trust.
Hot. Uncle, adieu :-O, let the hours be short,
Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport!

[Exeunt.

Enter a Carrier, with a lantern in his hand.

1 Car. Haigh ho! An't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd: Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horfe not pack'd. What, oftler!

Oft. [Within.] Anon, anon.

1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cut's faddle, put a few flocks in the point; the poor jade is wrung in the withers out of all cefs.

Enter another Carrier.

2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this houfe is turn'd upfide down, fince Robin oftler died.

1 Car. Poor fellow! never joy'd fince the price of oats rofe; it was the death of him.

2 Car. I think, this be the most villainous house in all London road for fleas : I am ftung like a tench.

1 Car. Like a tench? by the mafs, there is ne'er a king in Chriftendom could be better bit than I have been fince the firft cock.

2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a loach.

1 Car. What, oftler! come away, and be hang'd,come away. 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to be delivered as far as Charing-crofs.