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And that same Greatness too, which our own hands Have help'd to make fo portly.
North. My good lord,
K. Henry. Worcester, get thee gone; fór I do sec
The moody frontlet of a servant brow.
[Exit Worcester. You were about to speak. To Northumberland.
North. Yes, my good lord. Those prisoners in your Highness' name demanded, Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took; Were, as he says, not with such strength deny'd As was deliver'd to your Majesty. Or Envy therefore, or Misprifion, Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.
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 sword; Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dress’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 milliner ; 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 snuff.–And still he fmil'd and talk'd; And as the soldiers bare dead bodies by, He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a flovenly, unhandsome coarse Betwixt the wind, and his Nobility. With many holiday and lady terins * The muody frontier[We should read frontlet, i. e. Forehead.
He question’d me: amongst the rest, demanded
Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord,
K. Henry. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners,
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
coft To ransom home revolted Mortimer.
Hot. Revolted Mortimer? He never did fall off, my sovereign Liege, But by the chance of war; to prove 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 Io changing hardiment with great Glendower: Three times they breath'd, and three times did they
Send me your prisoners with the speedieft means, Or
you fhall hear in such a kind from me As will displeafe you-My Lord Northumberland, We licence your departure with your fon. Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it.
[Exit K. Henry. Hot, And if the Devil come and roar for them, I will not send them. I will after strait, And tell him so; for I will ease my heart, Although it be with hazard of my head. North. What, drunk with choler? ftay, and pause
a while; Here comes your uncle.
Enter Worcester. Hot. Speak of Mortimer ? 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 these veins, And shed any 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 strook this heat up, after I was gone ?
Hot. He will, forfooth, have all my prisoners :
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
Hot. But soft, I pray you ;-did King Richard then Proclaim
brother Mortimer Heir to the Crown?
North. He did; myself did hear it. Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin King. That wifh'd him on the barren mountains stary'd. But shall it be, that you, that set the Crown Upon the head of this forgetful man, And for his fake wear the detested blot Of murd'rous Subornation? shall it be, That you a world of curfes undergo, Being the agents or bafe second means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? (O pardon me, that I defcend fo low, To thew the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this fubtle King) Shall it for shame be fpoken in these days, Or fill
Chronicles in time to come,