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KING HENRY IV.-PART I.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING HENRY IV. Appears, Act I. sc. 1; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 2. sc. 4; sc. 5.

Act V. sc. 1;

HENRY PRINCE OF WALES, son to the King. Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act II. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act III. sc. 2; sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 2. Act V. sc. 1; sc.3; sc. 4; sc. 5. PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, son to the King. Appears, Act V. sc. 1; sc. 4; sc. 5.

EARL OF WESTMORELAND, friend to the King. Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. 2. Act V. sc. 4; sc. 5 SIR WALTER BLUNT, friend to the King. Appears, Act I. sc. 1; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 3. Act V. sc. 1; sc. 3.

THOMAS PERCY, Earl of Worcester.
Appears, Act 1. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. 1; sc. 3.
Act V. sc. 1; sc. 2; sc. 5.

HENRY PERCY, Earl of Northumberland.
Appears, Act I. sc. 3.

HENRY PERCY, surnamed Hotspur, son to the Earl of Northumberland.

Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV.
sc. 1; sc. 3. Act V. sc. 2; sc. 3; sc. 4.
EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March.
Appears, Act III. sc. 1.

SCROOP, Archbishop of York.
Appears, Act IV. sc. 4.

SIR MICHAEL, a friend of the Archbishop.
Appears, Act IV. sc. 4.

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SCENE, ENGLAND.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace.

The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife,

Enter King HENRY, WESTMORELAND, SIR WALTER No more shall cut his master. Therefore, friends,

BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant, And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenc'd in stronds a afar remote. No more the thirsty entrance of this soil Shall daub her lips with her own children's blood; No more shall trenching war channel her fields, Nor bruise her flowrets with the armed hoofs Of hostile paces: those opposed eyes, Which, like the meteors of a troubled heaven, All of one nature, of one substance bred, Did lately meet in the intestine shock And furious close of civil butchery, Shall in mutual well-beseeming ranks, March all one way; and be no more oppos'd Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies:

now,

As far as to the sepulchre of Christ,
(Whose soldier now, under whose blessed cross
We are impressed and engag'd to fight,)
Forthwith a power of English shall we levy;
Whose arms were moulded in their mothers' womb
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields,
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet,
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, were nail'd,
For our advantage, on the bitter cross.
But this our purpose is a twelvemonth old,
And bootless 't is to tell you-we will go;
Therefore we meet not now:"-Then let me hear
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland,
What yesternight our council did decree,
In forwarding this dear expedience.

West. My liege, this haste was hot in question, And many limits of the charge set down But yesternight: when, all athwart, there came post from Wales, loaden with heavy news; Entrance. In the variorum editions of Shakspere we have Whose worst was, that the noble Mortimer,

Stronds-strands, shores.

the following correction of the text:

'No more the thirsty Erinnys of this soil."

The original text is somewhat obscure; but the obscurity is perfectly in the manner of Shakspere, and in great part arises from the boldness of the metaphor. Entrance is put for mouth; and if we were to read, "No more the thirsty mouth of this earth shall daub her lips with the blood of her own children," we should find little difficulty.

A

Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight
Against the irregular and wild Glendower,
Was by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,

a Therefore we meet not now. We do not meet now on that

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And a thousand of his people butchered:
Upon whose dead corpses there was such misuse,
Such beastly, shameless transformation,
By those Welshwomen done, as may not be,
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of.

K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings of this broil
Brake off our business for the Holy Land.

West. This, match'd with other like, my gracious lord.
For more uneven and unwelcome news
Came from the north, and thus it did report:
On Holy-rood day, the gallant Hotspur there,
Young Harry Percy, and brave Archibald,
That ever-valiant and approved Scot,
At Holmedon met,

Where they did spend a sad and bloody hour;
As by discharge of their artillery,

And shape of likelihood, the news was told;
For he that brought them, in the very heat
And pride of their contention did take horse,
Uncertain of the issue any way.

K. Hen. Here is a dear and true-industrious friend,
Sir Walter Blunt, new lighted from his horse,
Stain'd with the variation of each soil

Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours;
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome news:
The earl of Douglas is discomfited;

Ten thousand bold Scots, two-and-twenty knights,
Balk'd in their own blood, did sir Walter see
On Holmedon's plains: Of prisoners, Hotspur took
Mordake earl of Fife, and eldest son

To beaten Douglas; and the earl of Athol,
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith.

And is not this an honourable spoil?

A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not?
West. In faith,

It is a conquest for a prince to boast of.

P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with drinking of old sack, and unbuttoning thee after supper, and sleeping upon benches after noon, that thou hast forgotten to demand that truly which thou wouldst truly know. What a devil hast thou to do with the time of the day? unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffata; I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.

Fal. Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not by Phœbus,-he, that wandering knight so fair And, I prithee, sweet wag, when thou art king,—as, God save thy grace, (majesty, I should say; for grace thou wilt have none,)

P. Hen. What! none?

Fal. No, by my troth; not so much as will serve to be prologue to an egg and butter.

P. Hen. Well, how then? come, roundly, roundly. Fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou art king, let not us that are squires of the night's body be called thieves of the day's beauty;" let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon: And let men say, we be men of good government; being governed as the sea is, by our noble and chaste mistress the moon, under whose countenance we steal.

P. Hen. Thou say'st well; and it holds well too: for the fortune of us, that are the moon's men, doth ebb and flow like the sea; being governed as the sea is, by the moon. As for proof. Now, a purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night, and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning; got with swearing -lay by; and spent with crying-bring in: now, in as low an ebb as the foot of the ladder: and, by and by,

K. Hen. Yea, there thou mak`st me sad, and mak'st in as high a flow as the ridge of the gallows.

me sin

In envy that my lord Northumberland
Should be the father of so bless'd a son:

A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue;
Amongst a grove, the very straightest plant;
Who is sweet Fortune's minion, and her pride:
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him,
See riot and dishonour stain the brow

Of my young Harry. O, that it could be prov'd,
That some night-tripping fairy had exchang'd
In cradle-clothes our children where they lay,
And call'd mine Percy, his Plantagenet!
Then would I have his Harry, and he mine.
But let him from my thoughts:-What think you, coz',
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners,
Which he in this adventure hath surpris'd,
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word,

I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife.
West. This is his uncle's teaching, this is Worcester,
Malevolent to you in all aspects;

Which makes him prune himself, and bristle up
The crest of youth against your dignity.

K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer this:
And, for this cause, awhile we must neglect
Our holy purpose to Jerusalem.

Cousin, on Wednesday next our council we
Will hold at Windsor; and so inform the lords;
But come yourself with speed to us again;
For more is to be said, and to be done,
Than out of anger can be uttered.
West. I will, my liege.

Fal. Thou say'st true, lad. And is not my hostess of the tavern a most sweet wench?

P. Hen. As the honey of Hybla, my old lad of the castle. And is not a buff jerkin a most sweet robe of durance ?d

Fal. How now, how now, mad wag? what, in thy quips and thy quiddities? what a plague have I to do with a buff jerkin?

P. Hen. Why, what a pox have I to do with my hostess of the tavern?

Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoning many a time and oft.

P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy part? Fal. No; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast paid all there.

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my coin would stretch; and where it would not I have used my credit.

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not here apparent that thou art heir apparent,-But, I prithee, sweet wag, shall there be gallows standing in England when thou art king? and resolution thus fobbed as it is with the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. P. Hen. No; thou shalt.

Fal. Shall I O rare! I'll be a brave judge.

P. Hen. Thou judgest false already; I mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the thieves, and so become a rare hangman.

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps
Day's beauty. Perhaps beauty is meant to be pronounced

[Exeunt. booty, as it is sometimes provincially.
bLay by-stop.

SCENE II.-The same. Another Room in the Palace.

Enter HENRY PRINCE OF WALES, and FALSTAFF.
Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad?
Balk'd. To halk is to raise into ridges.

Bring in-the call to the drawers for more wine.

d Robe of durance. The buff jerkin, the coat of ox-skin (baru), was worn by sheriffs' officers. It was a robe of durance, an "everlasting garment," as in The Comedy of Errors ;'-but it was also a robe of "durance in a sense that would not furnish an agreeable association to one who was always in debt and danger, as Falstaff was.

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with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you.

P. Hen. For obtaining of suits?

Fal Yea, for obtaining of suits: whereof the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. I am as melancholy as a gib cat, or a lugged bear.

P. Hen. Or an old lion; or a lover's lute. Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire bagpipe. P. Hen. What say'st thou to a hare, or the melancholy of Mour-ditch?

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; and art, indeed, the most comparative, rascallest, sweet young rince. But Hal, I prithee trouble me no more with nity. I would thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought! An old lord of the council rated me the other day in the street about you, sir; but I marked him not: and yet he talked very wisely; but I regarded him not: and yet he talked wisely, and in the street too.

P. Hen. Thou didst well; for wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.

Fal. O, thou hast damnable iteration: and art, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast done much harm unto me, Hal,-God forgive thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew nothing; and now I am, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. I must give over this life, and I will give it over; an I do not, I am a villain; I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to-morrow, Jack?

Fal. Where thou wilt, lad, I 'll make one; an I do not, call me villain and baffle me.

P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in thee; from praying to purse-taking.

Enter POINS, at a distance.

Fal. Why, Hal, 't is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. Poins!-Now stall we know if Gadshill have set a watch. O, if men were to be saved by merit, what hole in hell were hot enough for him? This is the most omnipotent villain that ever cried Stand, to a true man.

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned.

P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by my faitu. Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of the blood royal, if thou darest not stand for ten shillings."

P. Hen. Well, then, once in my days, I'll be a madcap.

Fal. Why, that 's well said.

P. Hen. Well, come what will, I'll tarry at home.
Fal. I'll be a traitor, then, when thou art king.
P. Hen. I care not.

Poins. Sir John, I prithee, leave the prince and me alone; I will lay him down such reasons for this adventure that he shall go.

Fal. Well, mayst thou have the spirit of persuasion and he the ears of profiting, that what thou speakest may move and what he hears may be believed, that the true prince may (for recreation sake) prove a false thief; for the poor abuses of the time want countenance. Farewell: You shall find me in Eastcheap.

P. Hen. Farewell, the latter spring! Farewell, Allhallown summer!b

[Exit FAL. Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord, ride with us to-morrow; I have a jest to execute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those men that we have already waylaid; yourself and I will not be there: and when they have the booty, if you and I do not rob them, cut this head from my shoulders.

P. Hen. But how shall we part with them in setting forth?

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or after them, and appoint them a place of meeting, wherein it is at our pleasure to fail: and then will they adventure upon the exploit themselves: which they shall have no sooner achieved, but we 'll set upon them.

P. Hen. Ay, but 't is like that they will know us, by our horses, by our habits, and by every other appointment, to be ourselves.

Poins. Tut! our horses they shall not see, I'll tie them in the wood; our visors we will change, after we leave them; and, sirrah, I have cases of buckram for the nonce,d to immask our noted outward garments.

P. Hen. But, I doubt they will be too hard for us. Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back; and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees reason I'll forswear arms. The virtue of this jest will be, the incompre

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. What says monnieur Remorse? What says sir John Sack-and-Sugar? Jack, how agrees the devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on Good-Friday last, for a cup of Ma-hensible lies that this fat rogue will tell us, when we deira and a cold capon's leg?

P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word,-the devil shall have his bargain; for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs, he will give the devil his due.

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping thy word

with the devil.

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for cozening the levil.

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with rich offerings, and traders riding to London with fat purses: I have visors for you all, you have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies tonight in Rochester; I have bespoke supper to-morrow in Eastcheap; we may do it as secure as sleep: If you will go, I will stuff your purses full of crowns; if you will not, tarry at bome and be hanged.

Fal. Hear ye, Yedward; if I tarry at home and go not, I'll hang yon for going.

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Poins. You will, chops?

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one?

* Gib cat. Gib and Tib were old English names for a male

Iteration-repetition-not mere citation, as some have honght. Falstaff does not complain only of Hal's quoting a stural text, but that he has been retorting and distorting the Lening of his words throughout the scene.

meet at supper: how thirty, at least, he fought with; what wards, what blows, what extremities he endured: and in the reproof of this lies the jest.

P. Hen. Well, I'll go with thee; provide us all things necessary and meet me. To-morrow night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Exit POINS. P. Hen. I know you all, and will awhile uphold The unyok'd humour of your idleness; Yet herein will I imitate the sun, Who doth permit the base contagious clouds To smother up his beauty from the world, That when he please again to be himself, Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, By breaking through the foul and ugly mists Of vapours that did seem to strangle him. If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work;

Ten shilings was the value of the royal. Hence Falstaff's quibble.

b All-hallown summer-summer in November, on the first of which month is the feast of All hallows, or All Saints.

e Sirrah, in this and other passages, is used familiarly, and even sharply, but not contemptuously. The word is supposed to have meant, originally, Sir, ha!

For the nunce is simply for the once-for the one thing in question, whatever it be.

2 A

But when they seldom come they wish'd-for come,
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off,
And pay the debt I never promised,
By how much better than my word I am
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;"
And like bright metal on a sullen ground,
My reformation, glittering o'er my fault,
Shall show more goodly and attract more eyes
Than that which hath no foil to set it off.
I'll so offend to make offence a skill;
Redeeming time when men think least I will.

SCENE III.-The same. Another Room in the
Palace.

I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold,
To be so pester'd with a popinjay,

Out of my grief and my impatience
Answer'd neglectingly, I know not what;

He should, or should not;-for he made me mad,
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet,
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the marɛ !)
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti for an inward bruise;
And that it was great pity, so it was,
[Exit. That villainous saltpetre should be digg'd
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth,
Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd
So cowardly; and but for these vile guns
He would himself have been a soldier.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my lord,
I answer'd indirectly, as I said;
And, I beseech you, let not this report
Come current for an accusation,
Betwixt my love and your high majesty.

Enter KING HENRY, NORTHUMBERLAND, WORCESTER, HOTSPUR, SIR WALTER BLUNT, and others.

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and temperate, Unapt to stir at these indignities,

And you have found me; for, accordingly,
You tread upon my patience: but, be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be myself,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, than my condition;b
Which hath been smooth as oil, soft as young down,
And therefore lost that title of respect

Which the proud soul ne'er pays but to the proud.
Wor. Our house, my sovereign liege, little deserves
The scourge of greatness to be used on it;

And that same greatness too which our own hands
Have holp to make so portly.

North. My lord,

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, for I do see Danger and disobedience in thine eye :

O, sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And majesty might never yet endure
The moody frontier of a servant brow.
You have good leave to leave us; when we need
Your use and counsel we shall send for you.-

[Exit WoR. [TO NORTH. Yea, my good lord.

You were about to speak.
North.
Those prisoners in your highness' name demanded,
Which Harry Percy here at Holmedon took,
Were, as he says, not with such strength denied
As was deliver'd to your majesty :
Either envy, therefore, or misprision,
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son.

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners.
But, I remember, when the fight was done,
When I was dry with rage and extreme toil,
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword,
Came there a certain lord, neat and trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd,
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon

He gave his nose, and took 't away again;
Who, therewith angry, when it next came there,
Took it in snuff:d and still he smil'd and talk'd
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by

He call'd them untaught knaves, unmannerly,
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse
Betwixt the wind and his nobility.

With many holiday and lady terms

He question'd me; among the rest, demanded
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf.

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Blunt. The circumstance consider'd, good my lord, Whatever Harry Percy then had said To such a person, and in such a place, At such a time, with all the rest re-told, May reasonably die, and never rise To do him wrong, or any way impeach What then he said, so he unsay it now.

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prisoners:
But with proviso, and exception,

That we, at our own charge, shall ransom straight
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer;
Who, in my soul, hath wilfully betray'd
The lives of those that he did lead to fight
Against the great magician, damn'd Glendower;
Whose daughter, as we hear, the earl of March
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then
Be emptied, to redeem a traitor home?
Shall we buy treason? and indent with feres,"
When they have lost and forfeited themselves?
No, on the barren mountains let him starve;
For I shall never hold that man my friend
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost
To ransom home revolted Mortimer.

Hot. Revolted Mortimer!

He never did fall off, my sovereign liege,
But by the chance of war ;-To prove that true
Needs no more but one tongue for all those wounds,
Those mouthed wounds, which valiantly he took,
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank,

In single opposition, hand to hand,

He did confound the best part of an hour

In changing hardiment with great Glendower:

Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink,
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood;
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds,

And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants.
Never did base and rotten policy

Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor never could the noble Mortimer
Receive so many, and all willingly:

Then let him not be slander'd with revolt.

K. Hen. Thou dost belie him, Percy, thou dost belie

him;

He never did encounter with Glendower:

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Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer:

Send me your prisoners with the speediest means,
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me
As will displease you.-My lord Northumberland
We license your departure with your son :-
Send us your prisoners, or you 'll hear of it.

[Exeunt KING HENRY, BLUNT, and Train.
Hot. And if the devil come and roar for them
I will not send them :-I will after straight,
And tell him so; for I will ease my heart,

Although it be with hazard of my head.

Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king; who studies, day and night,
To answer all the debt he owes unto you,
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths.
Therefore, I say,-

Wor.

Peace, cousin, say no more

And now I will unclasp a secret book,
And to your quick-conceiving discontents
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril, and adventurous spirit,
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud,

North What, drunk with choler? stay, and panse On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.

awhile;

Here comes your uncle.

Hot.

Re-enter WORCESTER.

Speak of Mortimer?

Zounds, I will speak of him; and let my soul
Want mercy, if I do not join with him:

In his behalf I'll empty all these veins,

And shed my dear blood drop by drop i' the dust,
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer
As high i' the air as this unthankful king,
As this ingrate and canker'd Bolingbroke.
North. Brother, the king hath made your nephew
[TO WORCESTER.
Wor. Who struck this heat up, after I was gone?
Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my prisoners;
And when I urg'd the ransom once again

mad.

Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale;
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer.

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 murthered.

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;-the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare.

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,
And pluck up drowned honour by the locks;
So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear,
Without corrival, all her dignities:
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,
And list to me.

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And lend no ear unto my purposes.

Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's wide Those prisoners you shall keep.

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He did; myself did hear it.

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king, That wish'd him on the barren mountains starv'd. But shall it be that you, that set the crown

Upon the head of this forgetful man,

And, for his sake, wear the detested blot
Of murtherous subornation, shall it be,

up

That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second means,
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?
Q, pardon, if that I descend so low,
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtle king.
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days,
fill chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did 'gage them both in an unjust behalf,—
As both of you, God pardon it! have done,—
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,
And plant this thorn, this canker," Bolingbroke?
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken,
you are fool'd, discarded, and shook off
By him for whom these shames ye underwent?
No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem
Your banish'd honours, and restore yourselves
Into the good thoughts of the world again:

That

This enker. The canker is the dog-rose-the rose of the heage, not of the garden.

Hot.

Nay, I will; that's flat-
He said he would not ransom Mortimer;
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer
But I will find him when he lies asleep,
And in his ear I'll holla-Mortimer!

Nay, I'll have a starling shall be taught to speak
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him,

To keep his anger still in motion.

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,

But that I think his father loves him not,

And would be glad he met with some mischance,
I'd have him poison'd with a pot of ale.

Wor. Farewell, kinsman! I will talk to you,
When you are better temper'd to attend.

North. Why, what a wasp-tongued and impatient

fool

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