King. Worcester get thee gone, for I do fee Danger and difobedience in thine eye,
Ofir your prefence is too bold and peremptory,
And maieftic might neuer yet endure
The moody frontier of a feruant * brow,
You haue good leaue to leaue vs: when we need
Your vfe and counfel, we fhall fend for you.
You were about to fpeake.
Nort. Yea my good lord,
Thofe prifoners in your highneffe name demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Helmedon tooke,
Were as he fayes, not with fuch strength denied,
As he deliuered to your maiefty.
Either enuy therefore, or misprision
Is guilty of this fault, and not my fonne.
Hotf. My liege, I did deny no prifoners,
But I remember when the fight was done,
When I was drie with rage and extreame toyle,
Breathles and faint, leaning vpon my sword,
Came there a certaine lord, neat and trimly dreft,
Fresh as a bridgroome, and his chin new reapt,
Shewd like a ftubble land at harueft home:
He was perfumed like a milliner,
And twix his finger and his thum he helde,
A pouncet boxe, which euer and anon
He gaue his nofe, and tookt away againe,
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Tookt it in fnuffe, and still he fmilde and talkte,
And as the fouldiers bore dead bodies by,
He calde them vntaught knaues, vnmannerly,
To bring a flouenly vnhand-fome coarse,
Betwixt the wind and his nobility,
With many holy day and lady tearmes.
He questioned me: among the reft demanded,
My prifoners in your maiefties behalfe.
I then, all fmarting with my wounds being cold,
To be so pestered with a popingay,
Out of my griefe and my impatience,
Answered neglectingly, I know not what,
He should, or he should not, for he made me mad,
To fee him fhine fo brifke, and smell fo fweet,
And talke fo like a waiting gentlewoman,
Of guns and drums, and wounds, God faue the marke: And telling me, the foueraigneft thing on earth;
Was parmacity for an inward bruse,
And that it was great pitty, fo it was,
This villanous faltpeter fhould be digd.
Out of the bowels of the harmeles earth;
Which many a good tall fellow had destroyd
So cowardly and but for these vile guns,
He would haue been himfelfe a fouldiour.
This bald vnioynted chat of his (my lord)
I anfwered indirectely (as I fayd)
And I beseech you, let not this report
Come currant for an accufation,
Betwixt my loue, and your high maiesty.
Blunt. The circumftance confidered, good my lord
What er'e Harrie Percie then had faid
To fuch a person, and in fuch a place,
At fuch a time, with all the rest retold,
May refonablie die, and neuer rife,
To doe him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he faid, fo he vnfay it now.
King. Why yet he doth deny his prifoners,
But with prouifo and exception,
That we at our owne charge fhall ransome straight
His brother in law, the folish Mortimer,
Who in my foule hath wilfully betraide,
The liues of those, that he did lead to fight,
Against the great magitian, damned Glendower,
Whofe daughter as we heare, the earle of March,
Hath lately married? fhall our coffers then,
Be emptied to redeeme a traitor home?
Shall we buy treafon? and indent with feares,
When they haue loft and forfeited themfelues.
No, on the barren mountaine let him fterue,
For I shall neuer hold that man my friend,
Whose tongue shall afke me for one penny cost,
To ransome home reuolted Mortimer.
Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?
He neuer did fall off, my foueraigne liege,
But by the chance of warre! to proue that true,
Needs no more but one tongue: for all those wounds,
Those mouthed woundes which valiantly he tooke
When on the gentle Sauerns fiedgie banke
In fingle oppofition hand to hand,
He did confound the beft part of an houre
In changing hardiment with great Glendower,
Three times they breath'd, and three times they did drinke,
Vpon agreement of swift Seuerns floud
Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes,
Ran fearefully among the trembling reedes,
And hid his crifpe-head in the hollow banke,
Bloud-ftained with thefe valiant combatans,
Neuer did bare and rotten policy
Colour her working with fuch deadly wounds,
Nor neuer could the noble Mortimer
Receiue fo many, and all willingly:
Then let not him be flandered with reuolt.
King. Thou doft bely him Percy, thou dost bely him, He neuer did encounter with Glendower,
I tell thee, he durft as well haue met the diuell alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not afham'd? but firra, henceforth
Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer,
Send me your prifoners with the fpeedieft meanes,
Or you shall heare in fuch a kind from me,
As will displease you. My lord Northumberland,
We licence your departure with your fonne,
Send vs your prifoners, or you will heare of it.
Hot. And if the diuell come and roare for them,
I will not fend them: I will after straight
And tell him fo, for I will eafe my heart,
Albeit I make a hazard of my head.
Nor. What? drunke with choler? ftay and paufe a while, Here comes your vncle. *
Hot. Speake of Mortimer?
Zounds I will fpeake of him, and let my foule
Want mercy if I do not ioyne with him:
Yea on his part, Ile empty all these † veines.
And shead my deare bloud, drop by drop i'th duft;
But I will lift the downe-trod Mortimer,
As high in'th ayre as this vnthankfull king,
As this ingrate and cankred Bullingbrooke.
Nor. Brother the king hath made your nephew mad.
Wor. Who ftrooke this heate vp after I was gone?
Hot. He will forfooth haue all my prifoners:
And when I vrg'd the ranfome once againe
Of my wiues brother, then his cheeke lookt pale;
And on my face he turnd an eye of death,
Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer.
Wor. I cannot blame him, was not he procliamd By Richard that dead is, the next of bloud?
Nor. He was; I heard the proclamation, And then it was, when the vnhappy king,
(Whose wrongs in vs God pardon) did set forth Vpon his Irish expedition;
From whence he intercepted, did returne
To be depos'd and shortly murdered.
Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide-mouth,
Liue fcandaliz'd and fouly fpoken off.
Hot. But foft I pray you, did king Richard then Proclame my brother Mortimer,
Heire to the crowne?
Nor. He did, my felfe did heare it.
Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his coofin king,
That wiht him on the barren mountaines starue.
But fhall it be that you that fet the crowne
Vpon the head of this forgetfull-man,
And for his fake weare the detested blot
Of murtherous fubornation? fhall it be
That you a world of curfes vndergo,
Being the agents, or base second meanes,
The cordes, the laddar, or the hangman rather?
O pardon if that 1* defcend fo low,
To fhew the line and the predicament,
Wherein you range vnder this fubtil king.
Shall it for fhame be spoken in these dayes,
Or fill vp cronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did gage them both in an vniust behalfe,
(As both of you God pardon it, haue done)
To put downe Richard that fweet louely rofe,
And plant this thorne, this canker Bullingbrooke?
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