477Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then

478Proclaime my brother Mortimer,

479Heyre to the Crowne?

480Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it.

481Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,

482That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd.

483But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne

484Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,

485And for his sake, wore the detested blot

486Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,

487That you a world of curses vndergoe,

488Being the Agents, or base second meanes,

489The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather?

490O pardon, if that I descend so low,

491To shew the Line, and the Predicament

492Wherein you range vnder this subtill King.

493Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes,

494Or fill vp Chronicles in time to come,

495That men of your Nobility and Power,

496Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe

497(As Both of you, God pardon it, haue done)

498To put downe Richard, that sweet louely Rose,

499And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?

500And shall it in more shame be further spoken,

501That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off

502By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?

503No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme

504Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues

505Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.

506Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt

507Of this proud King, who studies day and night

508To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,

509Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths:

510Therefore I say---

511Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.

512And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,

513And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents,

514Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,

515As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit,

516As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud

517On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare.

518Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme:

519Send danger from the East vnto the West,

520So Honor crosse it from the North to South,

521And let them grapple: The blood more stirres

522To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare.

523Nor. Imagination of some great exploit,

524Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience.

525Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap,

526To plucke bright Honor from the pale-fac'd Moone,

527Or diue into the bottome of the deepe,

528Where Fadome-line could neuer touch the ground,

529And plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes:

530So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare

531Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:

532But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship.

533Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here,

534But not the forme of what he should attend:

535Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while,

536And list to me.

537Hot. I cry you mercy.

538Wor. Those same Noble Scottes

539That are your Prisoners.

540Hot. Ile keepe them all.

541By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them:

542No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall not.

543Ile keepe them, by this Hand.

544Wor. You start away,

545And lend no eare vnto my purposes.

546Those Prisoners you shall keepe.

547Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:

548He said, he would not ransome Mortimer:

549Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer.

550But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe,

551And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer.

552Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake

553Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him,

554To keepe his anger still in motion.

555Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word.

556Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie,

557Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke,

558And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales.

559But that I thinke his Father loues him not,

560And would be glad he met with some mischance,

561I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale.

562Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you

563When you are better temper'd to attend.

564Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole

565Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood,

566Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?

567Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods,

568Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare

569Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke.

570In Richards time: What de'ye call the place?

571A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire:

572'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept,

573His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee

574Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke:

575When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh.

576Nor. At Barkley Castle.

577Hot. You say true:

578Why what a caudie deale of curtesie,

579This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me.

580Looke when his infant Fortune came to age,

581And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin:

582O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me,

583Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done.

584Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe,

585Wee'l stay your leysure.

586Hot. I haue done insooth.

587Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners.

588Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight,

589And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane

590For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons

591Which I shall send you written, be assur'd

592Will easily be granted you, my Lord.

593Your Sonne in Scotland being thus impl y'd,

594Shall secretly into the bosome creepe

595Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd,

596The Archbishop.

597Hot. Of Yorke, is't not?

598Wor. True, who beares hard

599His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope.

600I speake not this in estimation,

601As what I thinke might be, but what I know

602Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe,

603And onely stayes but to behold the face

604Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

605Hot. I smell it:

606Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well.

607Nor. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip.

608Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a Noble plot,