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

North. My good lord,

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

O Sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory; And Majefty might never yet endure

* The moody frontlet of a fervant brow.

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

You were about to speak.

North. Yes, my good lord.

[Exit Worcester.

[To Northumberland.

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 Majefty.

Or Envy therefore, or Misprifion,

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,
Breathlefs, 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 ftubble 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 nofe: [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 foldiers 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 moody frontier- -[We should read frontlet, i. e. Forehead.

He

He queftion'd me: amongst the reft, demanded
My prifoners, in your Majesty's behalf.

1, then all fmarting with my wounds; being gal'd To be fo pefter'd with a popinjay,

Out of my Grief, and my impatience,
Answer'd, neglectingly, I know not what;

He fhould, or fhould not; for he made me mad,
To fee him fhine fo brifk, and smell so sweet,

And talk fo like a waiting-gentlewoman,

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

And telling me, the fovereign't thing on earth
Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, fo it was,

This villainous falt petre 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 these vile guns,
He would himself have been a foldier.-
This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I faid;
And I befeech you, * let not his report
Come currant for an accufation,

Betwixt my love and your high Majefty.

Blunt. The circumftance confider'd, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said,

To fuch a perfon, and, in fuch a place,
At fuch a time, with all the reft retold,
May reasonably die; and never rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach.
What then he said, fee, he unfays it now.

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

That we at our own charge shall ransom ftraight
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

--- let not this report] We should read, his.

Against

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 treason? and indent with fears,
When they have loft and forfeited themselves?
No; on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I fhall never hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny coft
To ransom 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 those wounds, Thofe mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took, When on the gentle Severn's fedgy bank,

In fingle 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 fwift Severn's flood;
Who then affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,
And hid his crisp'd head in the hollow bank,
Blood-ftained with these valiant Combatants.
Never did bafe and rotten Policy

Colour her working with fuch deadly wounds;
Nor ever could the noble Mortimer
Receive fo many, and all willingly.

Then let him not be flander'd with Revolt.

K. Henry. Thou doft belie him, Percy, thou belieft

him;

He never did encounter with Glendower;

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 speak of Mortimer.

Send

Send me your prifoners with the speedieft 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. And if the Devil come and roar for them,
I will not fend them. I will after ftrait,

And tell him fo; 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 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.

mad.

North. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew [To Worcester. Wor. Who ftrook this heat up, after I was gone? Hot. He will, forfooth, have all my prifoners: And when I urg'd the ranfom 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.

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

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

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

Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of.

Hot. But foft, I pray you;-did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Mortimer

Heir to the Crown?

North. He did; myfelf did hear it.

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his coufin King. That wifh'd him on the barren mountains ftarv'd. But shall 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 Subornation? fhall it be, That you a world of curfes undergo, Being the agents or bafe fecond means, The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? (O pardon me, that I defcend fo low, To fhew the line and the predicament Wherein you range under this fubtle King) Shall it for fhame be fpoken in thefe days, Or fill up Chronicles in time to come, That men of your Nobility and Power Ingag'd them Both in an unjuft behalf; (As Both of you, God pardon it! have done:) To put down Richard, that fweet lovely Rose, And plant this Thorn, this Canker Bolingbroke? And fhall it in more shame be further spoken, That you are fool'd, discarded, and fhook off By him, for whom these fhames ye underwent? No; yet time ferves, wherein you may redeem Your banish'd Honours, and reftore yourfelves Into the good thoughts of the world again. Revenge the jeering and difdain'd contempt Of this proud King, who ftudies day and night To answer all the debt he owes unto you, Ev`n with the bloody payments of your deaths: Therefore, I far

Wor.