And fhall it in more shame be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, difcarded, and fhooke off
By him, for whom thefe fhames ye vader-went?
No, yet times ferues, wherein you may redeeme
Your banisht honors, and reftore your felues,
Into the good thoughts of the world againe :
Reueng the ieering and difdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who ftudies day and night
To anfwere all the debt he owes you,
Euen with the bloudie payment of your deaths:
Therefore I fay.

Wor. Peace coofin, fay no more.
And now I will vnclafpe a fecret booke,
And to your quicke conceiuing discontents
Ile read your † matter deepe and dangerous,
As full of perill and aduenterous fpirit,
As to o're walke a current roring lowd,
On the unfteadfast ‡ footing of a speare.

Hot. If he fall in, good night, or finke or fwim,
Send danger from the east vnto the west,

So honor croffe it, from the north to fouth,
And let them grapple: the bloud more stirres
To rowse a lion then to start a hare.

North Immagination of fome great exploit
Driues him beyond the boundes of patience.

Hot. By heauen me thinkes it weare an easie leape,
To pluck bright honor from the pale-fac'd moone
Or diue into the bottome of the deepe,

Where fadome-line could neuer touch the ground,
And pluck vp drowned honor by the lockes,
So hee that doth redeeme her thence might weare
Without corriuall all her dignities:

But out vpon this halfe fac't fellowship.

Wor. He apprehendes a world of figures here, But not the forme of what he should attend, Good coofen giue me audience for a while.

Hot. I cry you mercy.

Wor. Those same noble Scots that are your prisoners.

Hot. Ile keepe them all.

By God he shall not haue a Scot of them,

No, if a Scot would faue his foule, he fhall not.

Ile keepe them, by this hand.

Wor. You start away,

And lend no eare vnto my purposes:
Those prisoners you shall keepe.

Hot. Nay, I will; that's flat:

He faid he would not ranfome Mortimer,
Forbade my tongue to fpeake of Mortimer :
But I will finde him when he lies a fleepe,
And in his eare Ile hallow, Mortimer:
Nay, Ile haue a starling shall be taught to speake
Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him,
To keepe his anger ftill in motion.

Wor. Heare you coofin, a word.

Hot. All ftudies heerè I folemnly defie,

Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke.
And that fame fword and buckler prince of Wales.
But that I thinke his father loues him not,
And would be glad he met with fome mifchance :
I would haue him poyfoned with a pot of ale.
Wor. Farewell kinfman, Ile talke to you

When you are better tempered to attend.

Nor. Why what a wafpe-tongue and impatient foole Art thou, to breake into this womans moode,

Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne?

Hot. Why looke you, I am whipt and fcourg'd with rods, Netled, and ftung with pifmires, when I heare

VOL. II.

Dd

OF

Of this vile polititian Bullingbrooke.

In Richards time, what doe you call the place;
A plague vpon it, it is in Glocestershire;
Twas where the mad-cap duke his vncle kept,
His vncle Yorke, where I firft bowed my knee
Vnto this king of fmiles, this Bullingbrooke:

Zbloud, when you and he came backe from Rauenfpurgh,

Nor. At Barkly caftle.

Hot. You fay true.

Why what a candie deale of curtefie,

This fawning grey-hound then did proffer me,
Looke when his infant fortune came to age,

And gentle Harry Percy, and kind coofin:
O, the diuell take fuch coofeners, God forgiue me,
Good vncle tell your tale, I haue done.

Wor. Nay, if you haue not, to it againe,

We will stay your leyfure.

Hot. I haue done yfayth.

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight,
And make the Dowglas fonne your onely meane
For powers in Scotland, which for diuers reafons
Which I fhall fend you written, be affur'd,
Will eafily be granted you, my lord.
Your fonne in Scotland being thus imployed,
Shall fecretly into the bofome creepe

Of that fame noble prelate, welbelou'd,

The archbishop.

Hot. Of Yorke, is it not?

Wor. True, who beares hard

His brothers death at Bristow the lord Scroope:

I fpeake not this in estimation,

As what I thinke might be, but what I know
Is ruminated, plotted, and fet downe,

And

And onely ftayes but to behold the face
Of that occafion that fhall bring it on.

Hot. I fmell it: vpon my life it will doe well.
Nor. Before the game's afoote, thou ftill letft flip.
Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot,
And then the power of Scotland and of Yorke,
To ioyne with Mortimer, ha.

Wor. And fo they fhall.

Hot. In fayth it is exceedingly well aymd.
War. And tis no little reafon bids vs speede,
To faue our heades, by rayfing of a head:
For, beare our felues as euen as we can,
The king will alwayes thinke him in our debt,
And thinke we thinke our felues vnsatisfied,
Till he hath found a time to pay vs home.
And fee already, how he doth begin
To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue.

Hot. He does, he does; weele be reueng'd on him.
Wor. Coofin, farewell. No further goe in this.
Then I by letters fhall direct your courfe
When time is ripe, which will be fuddenly:
Ile fteale to Glendower, and loe *, Mortimer,
Where you and Dowglas, and our powers at once,
As I will fashion it, fhall happily meete,

To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes,
Which now we hold at much vncertaintie.

Nor. Farewell good brother, we fhall thriue, I truft.
Hot. Vncle, adue: O let the houres be short,

Till fieldes, and blowes, and grones, applaud our fport.

Enter a carrier with a lanterne in his hand.

1 Car. Heigh ho, an it be not foure by the day, Ile be hangd, Charles-waine is ouer the new chimny, and yet our horfe not packt. What oftler?

Oft. Anon, anon.

1 Car. I prethee Tom, beat Cuts faddle, put a few flocks in the point, poore iade is wrung in the withers, out of all ceffe. Enter another carrier.

2 Car. Peafe and beanes are as danke heere as a dog, and that is the next way to giue poor iades the bots: this houfe is turned vpfide downe fince Robin ostler died.

1 Car, Poore fellow neuer ioyed fince the price of oates rofe, it was the death of him.

2 Car. I thinke this to be the most villanous house in all London roade for fleas, I am ftung like a tench.

1 Car. Like a tench? by the maffe there is neare a king chriften, could be better bit, the I haue bin since the first cocke.

2 Car. Why, you will allow vs nere a iordaine, and then we leake in your chimny, and your chamber-lie breedes fleas like a loach.

1 Car. What oftler, come away, and be hang'd, come away.

2 Car. I haue a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger, to be deliuered as farre as Charing-crofe.

1 Car. Gods body, the turkies in my panier are quite starued: what oftler? a plague on thee, haft thou neuer an eye in thy head? canft not heare, and t'were not as good a deed as drinke, to breake the pate of thee, I am a very villaine; come and be hangd, haft no fayth in thec:

Enter Gads-hill.

Gads-hill, Good-morrow carriers, what's a clocke ?