Laid gifts before him, proffer'd him their othes,
Gaue him their heirs, as pages followed him,
Euen at the heeles, in golden multitudes,
He prefently as greatneffe knowes it selfe,
Steps me a little higher then his vow
Made to my father, while his bloud was poore,
Vpon the naked fhore at Rauenfpurgh
And now forfooth takes on him to reforme
Some certaine edects, and some straight decrees
That lie to heauie on the common wealth,
Cries out vpon abuses, feemes to weepe
Ouer his country wrongs, and by this face,
This feeming brow of iuftice did he winne
The hearts of all that he did angle for?
Proceeded further, cut me off the heads
Of all the fauourites that the abfent king
In deputation left behind him here,
When he was perfonall in the Irish warre.
Blunt. Tut, I came not to heare this.
Hot. Then to the point.
In fhort time after, he depos'd the king,
Soone after that, depriu'd him of his life,
And in the neck of that, task't the whole state:
To make that worse, fuffered his kinfman March,
(Who is, if euery owner were † plac'd,
Indeed his king, to be ingag'd in Wales,
There without ranfome to lie forfeited,
Difgrac'd me in my happy victories,
Sought to intrap me by intelligence,
Rated my vncle from the counfell boord,
In rage difmifde my father from the court,
Broke othe on oth, committed wrong on wrong,
This head of fafetie, and withall to prie
Into his title, the which we finde
Too indirect for long continuance.
Blunt. Shall I returne this anfwere to the king?
Hot. Not fo, fir Walter. Weele withdraw a while :
Goe to the king, and let there be impaund
Some furetie for a* fafe returne againe,
And in the morning early fhall my vncle
Bring him our purpose t; and fo farewell.
Blunt. I would you would accept of grace and loue.
Hot. And may be, fo we shall.
Blunt. Pray God you doe.
Enter archbishop of Yorke, and fir Michell.
Arch. Hie, good fir Michell, beare this fealed briefe With winged hafte to the lord Marshall,
This to my coofen Scroope, and all the reft
To whom they are directed. If you knew
How much they doe import, you would make hafte.
Sir Mi. My good lord, I geffe their tenor.
Arch. Like enough you doe,
To morrow, good fir Michell, is a day
Wherein, the fortune of ten thousand men
Muft bide the touch: for fir, at Shrewsburie,
As I am truly giuen to vnderftand,
The king with mighty and quicke raysed power,
Meetes with lord Harry; and I feare, fir Michell,
What with the fickneffe of Northumberland,
Whose power was in the firft proportion;
And what Owen Glendowers abfence thence,
Who with them was rated firmely || too,
And comes not in, ouer-rulde by prophecies,
† purposes. + And't a rated fine w.
I feare the power of Percy is too weake,
To wage an inftant tryall with the king.
Sir M. Why, my good lord, you need not feare,
There is Douglas, and lord Mortimer.
Arch. No, Mortimer is not there.
Sir M. But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord Harry Percy, And there is my lord of Worcester, and a head
Of gallant warriours, noble gentlemen.
Arch. And fo there is, but yet the king hath drawne The fpeciall head of all this land togeather,
The prince of Wales, lord John of Lancaster,
The noble Weftmerland, and warlike Blunt ;
And many mo coriuales, and deare men
Of eftimation, and command in armes.
Sir M. Doubt not my lord, he fhall be well oppos'd.
Arch. I hope no leffe? yet, needfull t'is to feare,
And to preuent the worst, fir Michell, speed:
For if lord Percy thriue not ere the king
Difmiffe his power, he meanes to visit vs,
For he hath heard of our confederacie,
And, tis but wifedome to make ftrong against him:
Therefore make hafte, I must goe write againe
To other friendes, and fo farewell, fir Michell
Enter the king, prince of Wales, lord Iohn of Lancaster, earle of Weftmerland, fir Walter Blunt, and Falftalffe.
King. How bloodily the funne begins to peere,
Aboue yon bufkie hill, the day lookes pale
At his diftemperature.
Prince. The foutherne winde
Doth play the trumpet to his purposes,
And by hollow whittling in the leaues,
Foretels a tempeft and a bluftering day.
King. Then with the lofers let it fimpathize, For nothing can feeme foule to those that winne.
The trumpet foundes. Enter Worcester.
King. How now my lord of Worcester? tis not well,
That you and I should meet vpon fuch tearmes,
As now we meete. You haue deceiude our trust,
And made vs doffe our eafie robes of peace,
To crush our old * lims in vngentle steele:
This is not well, my lord, this is not well.
What fay you to it? will you againe vnknit
This churlish knot of all abhorred warre?
And moue in that obedient orbe againe,
Where you did giue a faire and naturall light,
And be no more an exhal'd meteor,
A prodigie of feare, and a portent
Of broched mifchiefe to the vnborne times?
Wor. Heare mee, my liege:
For mine owne part, I could be well content
To entertaine the lag-end of my life
With quiet houres: for I proteft,
I haue not fought the day of this diflike.
King. You haue not fought it: how comes it then?
Falf. Rebellion lay in his way, and he found it.
Prin. Peace, chewet peace.
Wor. It pleafde your maiefty to turné your lookes
Of fauour, from my felfe, and all our house:
And yet I must remember you my lord:
Wee were the first and dearest of your friendes,
For you, my staffe of office did I breake,
In Richards time, and pofted day and night,
To meete you on the way, and kiffe your hand,
When yet you were in place, and in account
Nothing fo ftrong and fortunate as I;
It was my felfe, my brother, and his fonne,
That brought you home,
The danger of the time.
And you did fweare that
and boldly did out-date
You fwore to vs,
oath at Dancaster,
That you did nothing of purpose gainst the state
Nor claime no further, then your new falne right,
The feate of Gaunt, dukedome of Lancaster,
To this, we fweare † our ayde: but in short space
It raind downe fortune showring on your head,
And fuch a floud of greatneffe fell on you.
What with our helpe, what with the abfent king,
What with the iniuries of wanton time,
The feeming fufferances that you had borne,
And the contrarious windes that helde the king
So long in the vnluckie Irish warres,
That all in England did repute him dead;
And from this fwarme of faire aduantages,
You tooke occafion to be quickly wooed,
To gripe the generall fway into your hand,
Forgot your oath to vs at Dancafter;
And being fed by vs, you vs'de vs fo,
As that vngentle gull the cuckowes bird,
Vfeth the fparrow, did oppreffe our neft,
Grew by our feeding, to fo great a bulke,
That euen our loue durft not come neere your fight
For feare of swallowing: but with nimble wing
Wee were inforst for fafety fake, to flie
Out of your fight, and raise this present head,
Whereby we stand opposed by fuch meanes
As you your felfe haue forg'd against your selfe,
By vnkind vfage, dangerous countenance,
* of omitted. +fwore. I of a.
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