P. Henry. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things neceflary, and meet me to-morrow night in Eaft-cheap, there I'll fup. Farewell.

Poins. Farewell, my Lord.

[hold

[Exit Poins. P. Henry. I know you all, and will a while upThe unyok'd humour of y your idlenes: Yet herein will I imitate the fun, Who doth permit the bafe contagious clouds To fmother up his beauty from the world; That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wondred at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours, that did feem to ftrangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To fport would be as tedious as to work; But when they feldom come, they wish'd-for come, And nothing pleafeth but raie acciden's. So, when this loose behaviour I throw off, And pay the debt I never promised; By how much better than my word I am, By fo much fhall I falfify men's hopes; And, like bright metal on a fullen ground, My reformation glitt'ring o'er my fault, Shall fhew more goodly, and attract more eyes, Than that which hath no foil to fet it off. I'll fo offend, to make offence a skill;

Redeeming time, when men think least I will. [Exit.

Changes to an Apartment in the Palace.

Enter King Henry, Northun berland, Worcester, Hotspur. Sir Walter Blunt, and others

[perate,

K. Henr. My blood hath been too cold and temUnap to ftir at these indignities; And you have found me, for accordingly You tread upon my patience: but be fure I will from henceforth rather be myself, Mighty and to be fear'd, than my condition; Which hath been imooth as oil, foft as young down, And therefore loft that title of respect,

Which the proud foul ne'er pays, but to the proud. Wor. Our house, my fovereign Liege, little deferves

The fcourge of greatnefs to be used on it;

And that fame greatness too, which our own hands Have help'd to make fo portly.

North. My good Lord,

K. Henry. Worcester, get thee gone; for I do fee Danger and difobedience in thine eye.

O Sir, your prefence is too bold and peremptory; And majefty might never yet endure

The moody frontier of a fervant brow.

You have good leave to leave us. When we need Your use and counsel, we shall send for you.

You were about to speak.

North. Yes, my good Lord.

[Exit Worcester

[To Northumberland,

Thofe prifoners, in your Highnefs' name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took, Were, as he fays, not with fuch strength deny'd As was deliver'd to your Majefty.

Or envy therefore, or mifprifion,

Is guilty of this fault, and not my fon.

Hot. 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 fword,
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly drefs'd;
Fresh as a bridegroom, and his chin, new-reap'd,
Shew'd like a stubble land at harveft-home.
He was perfumed like a millener;

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;

Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in fnuff.- And ftill he fmil'd, and talk'd
And as the foldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a flovenly, unhandsome coarfe
Betwixt the wind and his Nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms

He queftion'd me: amongst the reft, demanded

VOL. V.

B

My prifoners, in your Majefty's behalf.

I, then all finarting with my wounds being cold,
To be fo pefter'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief, and my impatience,
Anfwer'd, neglectingly, I know not what;
He fhould, or fhould not; for he made me mad,
To fee him fhine fo brifk, and fmell fo fweet,
And talk fo like a waiting-gentlewoman,

Of guns, and drums, and wounds; (God fave the mark!)

And telling me, the fovereign'ft thing on earth
Was parmacity, for an inward bruife;
And that it was great pity, fo it was,
This villainous faltpetre fhould 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 thefe vile guns,
He would himself have been a foldier..
This bald, unjointed chat of his, my Lord,
I anfwer'd indirectly, as I faid;
And I befeech you, let not this report
Come current for an accufation,
Betwixt my love and your high Majefty.

Blunt. The circumftance confider'd,
Whatever Harry Percy then had faid,
To fuch a perfon, and in fuch a place,
At fuch a time, with all the reft retold,
May reasonably die; and never rife
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he faid, fo he unfay it now.

good my

[Lord,

K. Henry. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners, But with provifo and exception,

That we at our own charge fhall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, on my foul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whofe daughter, as we hear, the Earl of March
Hath lately marry'd. Shall our coffers then
Be empty'd, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treafon? and indent with fears,
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?

No on the barren mountains let him ftarve;
For I thall never hold that man my friend,
Whole tongue thall ask me for one penny coft
To ranfom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer?

He never did fall off, my fovereign Liege,
But by the chance of war: to prove that true,
Needs no more but one tongue; for all thofe
wounds,-

Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's fedgy bank,
In fingle oppofition, 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
Upon agreement, of fwift Severn's flood; [drink,-
Who then affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crifpe head in the hollow bank,
Blood-ftained with these valiant combatants.
Never did bare and rotten policy

Colour her working with fuch deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive fo many, and all willingly;

Then let him not be flander'd with revolt.

K. Henry. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou belief He never durft encounter with Glendower; [him : He durft as well have met the devil alone,

As Owen Glendower for an enemy.

Art not afham'd? but, firrah, from this hour,
Let me not hear you fpeak of Mortimer.
Send me your prifoners with the speediest means,
Or you fhall hear in fuch a kind from me
As will displease you.-My Lord Northumberland,
We licence your departure with your fon.
-Send us your prifoners, or you'll hear of it.
[Exit K Henry.
Hot. An if the devil come and roar for them,

I will not fend them. I'll after strait,
And tell him fo; for I will eafe my heart,
Although it be with hazard of my head.

North. What, drunk with choler? ftay, and paufe Here comes your uncle.

Enter Worcefler.

Hot. Speak of Mortimer?

[a while;

Yes, I will speak of him; and let my foul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him.
In his behalf I'll empty all thefe veins,
And fhed my dear blood drop by drop in duft,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i' th' air as this unthankful King,
As this ingrate and cankred Bolingbroke.

North. Brother, the King hath made your nephew
mad.
[To Worcester.
Wor. Who ftrook this heat up, after I was gone
Hot. He will, forfooth, have all my pritoners;
And when I urg'd the raufom 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 ev'n at the name of Mortimer.

Vor. 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
(Whofe wrongs in us, God pardon!) did set forth
Upon his Frith expedition,

From whence he, intercepted, did return
To be depos'd, and fhortly murdered.

Wor. And for whofe death, we in the world's wide

Live fcandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

[mouth Hot. But foft, I pray you. Did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Mortimer

Heir to the crown?

North. He did myself did hear it.

:

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his coufin King, That wifh'd him on the barren mountains ftarv'd. But fhall it be that you, that fet the crown

Upon the head of this forgetful man,
And for his fake wear the detefted blot
Of murd'rous fubornation? fhall it be
That you a world of curfes undergo,
Being the agents or bafe fecond means,