Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners; Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale: 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 To be depos'd, and shortly, murdered. Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide mouth Live scandaliz'd, and foully spoken of. Hot. But, soft, I pray you; Did King Richard then Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer Heir to the crown? North. He did; myself did hear it. Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, That you a world of curses undergo; Wherein you range under this subtle king.- Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more : Hot. If he fall in, good night :-or sink 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, North. Imagination of some great exploit Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. Hot. By heaven, 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, But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship! Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he should attend.Good cousin, give me audience for a while. Hot. I cry you mercy. Wor. Those same noble Scots, That are your prisoners, Hot. I'll keep them all; By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them: Wor. You start away, And lend no ear unto my purposes.― Those prisoners you shall keep. Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat: He said, he would not ransome Mortimer; Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak Wor. Hear you, Cousin; a word. Hot. All studies here I solemnly defy, Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: And that same sword-and-buckler prince of Wales,— And would be glad he met with some mischance,- Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you, North. Why, what a wasp-stung 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 whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear In Richard's time,-What do you call the place ?— Hot. You say true: Why, what a candy deal of courtesy This fawning greyhound then did proffer me! O, the devil take such cozeners!God forgive me!→ 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. Deliver them up without their ransome straight, And make the Douglas' son your only mean For powers in Scotland; which,-for divers reasons, Which I shall send you written,-be assur'd, Will easily be granted.-You, my lord,— [To NORTHUMBERLAND. Your son in Scotland being thus employ'd,→ Of that same noble prelate, well belov❜d, Hot. Of 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 And only stays but to behold the face Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well. North. Before the game's a-foot, thou still let'st slip. Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot :And then the power of Scotland, and of York,To join with Mortimer, ha? Wor. And so they shall. Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. |