Part 5

Hot. Nay, I will: that's flat: He said, he would not ransome Mortimer: Forbad my tongue to speake of Mortimer. But I will finde him when he lyes asleepe, And in his eare, Ile holla Mortimer. Nay, Ile haue a Starling shall be taught to speake Nothing but Mortimer, and giue it him, To keepe his anger still in motion

Wor. Heare you Cousin: a word

Hot. All studies heere I solemnly defie, Saue how to gall and pinch this Bullingbrooke, And that same Sword and Buckler Prince of Wales. But that I thinke his Father loues him not, And would be glad he met with some mischance, I would haue poyson'd him with a pot of Ale

Wor. Farewell Kinsman: Ile talke to you When you are better temper'd to attend

Nor. Why what a Waspe-tongu'd & impatient foole Art thou, to breake into this Womans mood, Tying thine eare to no tongue but thine owne? Hot. Why look you, I am whipt & scourg'd with rods, Netled, and stung with Pismires, when I heare Of this vile Politician Bullingbrooke. In Richards time: What de'ye call the place? A plague vpon't, it is in Gloustershire: 'Twas, where the madcap Duke his Vncle kept, His Vncle Yorke, where I first bow'd my knee Vnto this King of Smiles, this Bullingbrooke: When you and he came backe from Rauenspurgh

Nor. At Barkley Castle

Hot. You say true: Why what a caudie deale of curtesie, This fawning Grey-hound then did proffer me, Looke when his infant Fortune came to age, And gentle Harry Percy, and kinde Cousin: O, the Diuell take such Couzeners, God forgiue me, Good Vncle tell your tale, for I haue done

Wor. Nay, if you haue not, too't againe, Wee'l stay your leysure

Hot. I haue done insooth

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish Prisoners. Deliuer them vp without their ransome straight, And make the Dowglas sonne your onely meane For powres in Scotland: which for diuers reasons Which I shall send you written, be assur'd Will easily be granted you, my Lord. Your Sonne in Scotland being thus imploy'd, Shall secretly into the bosome creepe Of that same noble Prelate, well belou'd, The Archbishop

Hot. Of Yorke, is't not? Wor. True, who beares hard His Brothers death at Bristow, the Lord Scroope. I speake not this in estimation, As what I thinke might be, but what I know Is ruminated, plotted, and set downe, And onely stayes but to behold the face Of that occasion that shall bring it on

Hot. I smell it: Vpon my life, it will do wond'rous well

Nor. 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 Yorke To ioyne with Mortimer, Ha

Wor. And so they shall

Hot. Infaith it is exceedingly well aym'd

Wor. And 'tis no little reason bids vs speed, To saue our heads, by raising of a Head: For, beare our selues as euen as we can, The King will alwayes thinke him in our debt, And thinke, we thinke our selues vnsatisfied, Till he hath found a time to pay vs home. And see already, how he doth beginne To make vs strangers to his lookes of loue

Hot. He does, he does; wee'l be reueng'd on him

Wor. Cousin, farewell. No further go in this, Then I by Letters shall direct your course When time is ripe, which will be sodainly: Ile steale to Glendower, and loe, Mortimer, Where you, and Dowglas, and our powres at once, As I will fashion it, shall happily meete, To beare our fortunes in our owne strong armes, Which now we hold at much vncertainty

Nor. Farewell good Brother, we shall thriue, I trust

Hot. Vncle, adieu: O let the houres be short, Till fields, and blowes, and grones, applaud our sport.

Exit

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter a Carrier with a Lanterne in his hand.

1.Car. Heigh-ho, an't be not foure by the day, Ile be hang'd. Charles waine is ouer the new Chimney, and yet our horse not packt. What Ostler? Ost. Anon, anon

1.Car. I prethee Tom, beate Cuts Saddle, put a few Flockes in the point: the poore Iade is wrung in the withers, out of all cesse. Enter another Carrier.

2.Car. Pease and Beanes are as danke here as a Dog, and this is the next way to giue poore Iades the Bottes: This house is turned vpside downe since Robin the Ostler dyed

1.Car. Poore fellow neuer ioy'd since the price of oats rose, it was the death of him