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Wor. Peace, Cousin, say no more.
And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you malter, deep and dangerous;
As full of peril and advent'rous spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

Hot. If he fall in, good night. Or fink or swim,
Send Danger from the east unto the west,
So Honour cross it from the north to south;
And let them grapple. O! the blood more stirs
To rouze a Lion, than to start a Hare.

North. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.

Hot. By heav'n, methinks, it were an easy leap, To pluck bright Honour from the pale-fac'd Moon; Or dive into the bottom of the Deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned Honour by the locks: So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear Without Corrival all her Dignities. But out upon this half-fac d fellow ihip!

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. Those fame noble Scots,
That are your prisoners-

Hot. I'll keep them all.
By heav'n, he shall not have a Scot of them :
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not;
I'll keep them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes ;
Those prisoners you shall keep.

Hot. I will; that's flat:
He said, he would not ransom Mortimer :
my tongue to speak of Mortimer:


But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla, Mortimer!
Nay, I will have a Starling taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,
To keep his anger still in motion.

Wor. Hear you, cousin, a word.

Hot. All Studies here I folemnly defy,
Save how to gall and pinch this Boling broke:
And that same sword-and-buckler Prince of Wales,
(But that, I think, his father loves him not,
And would be glad he met with some mischance,)
I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.

Wor. Farewel, my kinsman; I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.
North. Why, what a wasp-tongu'd 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 whipt and scourg'd

with rods, Nettled, and ftung with pismires, 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 Glo'stershire 'Twas where the mad-cap Duke his uncle keptHis uncle York—where I first bow'd


knee Unto this King of Smiles, this Bolingbroke : When


and he came back from Ravenspurg. North. At Berkley castle.

Hot. You say true :
Why, what a deal of candied Courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me !
Look, when his infant forlune came to age,
And gentle Harry Percy and kind cousin
The Devil take such couzeners-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,

[To Hot-fpur.
Deliver them without their ransom straight,
And make the Dowglas' Son your only mean
For Pow'rs in Scotland; which, for divers reasons
Which I shall send you written, be aflur'd,
Will easily be granted.--You, my lord, (To North.
Your Son in Scotland being thus employd,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble Prelate, well below'd,
Th' Arch-bishop.

Hot. 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 occasion, that shall bring it on.

Hot. I smell it: on my life, it will do well,
North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still lett'st slip.

Hot. It cannot chuse but be a noble Plot;
And then the power of Sotland, and of York
To join with Mortimer; ha!

Wor, So they shall.
Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd.

Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids us speed
To save 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 deem ourselves unsatisfy'd,
Till he hath found a time to pay us home.
And fee already, how he doth begin
To make us strangers to his looks of love.

Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him.

Wor. Coulin, farewel. No further go in this, Than I by letters shall direct your course ;


When time is ripe, which will be suddenly,
I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Mortimer,

you and Dowglas, and our Pow'rs at once, (As I will falhon it) shall happily meet, To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty. truft.

North. Farewel, good brother; we shall thrive, I

Hot. Uncle, adieu: O let the hours be short, 'Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport!




An Inn at Rochester.

Enter a Carrier with a Lanthorn in his Hand,


hang'd. Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What, oftler ?

0j. [within.] Anon, anon.

i Car. I prythee, Tom, beat Cutt's saddle, put a few flocks in the point: the poor jade is wrung in the withers, out of all cess.

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 house is turn'd upside down, fince Robin Oller dy'd.

i Car. Poor fellow never joy'd since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him.

Car. I think, this be the most villainous house in all London road for fleas: I am ftung like a Tench. i Car. Like a Tench? by th' Mass, there's ne'er a

King in Christendom could be better bit than I have been since the first cock.

2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jourdan, and then we leak in your chimney: and your chamber-lie breds fleas like a Loach.

i 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 deliver'd as far as Charing-cross.

i Car. 'Odsbody, the Turkies in my panniers are quite ftarv'd. What, oftler? a plague on thee! haft thou never an eye in thy head? canst not hear? an ’twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. Come and be hang'd, haft no faith in thee?

Enter Gads-hill. Gads. Good-morrow, carriers. What's o'clock ? Car. I think, it be two o'clock.

Gads. I pr’ythee, lend me thy lanthorn, to see my gelding in the stable.

I Car. Nay, soft, I pray ye; I know a trick-worth two of that, i'faith.

Gads. I pr’ythee, lend me thine.

2 Car. Ay, when ? canst tell? lend me thy lanthorn, quoth a! marry, I'll see thee hang'd first.

Gads, Sirrah, carrier, what time do you mean to come to London?:

2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee,

Come, neighbour Mugges, we'll call up the gentlemen ; they will along with Company, for they have great Charge. (Exeunt Carriers.


Gads. WChain. At hand,

Enter Chamberlain.
HAT, ho, chamberlain !
Cham. At hand, quoth pick-purse.


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