Chapter: Scoena Tertia.


Enter the King, Northumberland, Worcester, Hotspurre, Sir Walter
Blunt,
and others.

  King. My blood hath beene too cold and temperate,
Vnapt to stirre at these indignities,
And you haue found me; for accordingly,
You tread vpon my patience: But be sure,
I will from henceforth rather be my Selfe,
Mighty, and to be fear'd, then my condition
Which hath beene smooth as Oyle, soft as yong Downe,
And therefore lost that Title of respect,
Which the proud soule ne're payes, but to the proud

   Wor. Our house (my Soueraigne Liege) little deserues
The scourge of greatnesse to be vsed on it,
And that same greatnesse too, which our owne hands
Haue holpe to make so portly

   Nor. My Lord

   King. Worcester get thee gone: for I do see
Danger and disobedience in thine eye.
O sir, your presence is too bold and peremptory,
And Maiestie might neuer yet endure
The moody Frontier of a seruant brow,
You haue good leaue to leaue vs. When we need
Your vse and counsell, we shall send for you.
You were about to speake

   North. Yea, my good Lord.
Those Prisoners in your Highnesse demanded,
Which Harry Percy heere at Holmedon tooke,
Were (as he sayes) not with such strength denied
As was deliuered to your Maiesty:
Who either through enuy, or misprision,
Was guilty of this fault; and not my Sonne

   Hot. My Liege, I did deny no Prisoners.
But, I remember when the fight was done,
When I was dry with Rage, and extreame Toyle,
Breathlesse, and Faint, leaning vpon my Sword,
Came there a certaine Lord, neat and trimly drest;
Fresh as a Bride-groome, and his Chin new reapt,
Shew'd like a stubble Land at Haruest home.
He was perfumed like a Milliner,
And 'twixt his Finger and his Thumbe, he held
A Pouncet-box: which euer and anon
He gaue his Nose, and took't away againe:
Who therewith angry, when it next came there,
Tooke it in Snuffe. And still he smil'd and talk'd:
And as the Souldiers bare dead bodies by,
He call'd them vntaught Knaues, Vnmannerly,
To bring a slouenly vnhandsome Coarse
Betwixt the Winde, and his Nobility.
With many Holiday and Lady tearme
He question'd me: Among the rest, demanded
My Prisoners, in your Maiesties behalfe.
I then, all-smarting, with my wounds being cold,
(To be so pestered with a Popingay)
Out of my Greefe, 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 briske, and smell so sweet,
And talke so like a Waiting-Gentlewoman,
Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke;
And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth
Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:
And that it was great pitty, so it was,
That villanous Salt-peter should be digg'd
Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth,
Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd
So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes,
He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier.
This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord)
Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)
And I beseech you, let not this report
Come currant for an Accusation,
Betwixt my Loue, and your high Maiesty

   Blunt. The circumstance considered, good my Lord,
What euer Harry Percie then had said,
To such a person, and in such a place,
At such a time, with all the rest retold,
May reasonably dye, and neuer rise
To do him wrong, or any way impeach
What then he said, so he vnsay it now

   King. Why yet doth deny his Prisoners,
But with Prouiso and Exception,
That we at our owne charge, shall ransome straight
His Brother-in-Law, the foolish Mortimer,
Who (in my soule) hath wilfully betraid
The liues of those, that he did leade to Fight,
Against the great Magitian, damn'd Glendower:
Whose daughter (as we heare) the Earle of March
Hath lately married. Shall our Coffers then,
Be emptied, to redeeme a Traitor home?
Shall we buy Treason? and indent with Feares,
When they haue lost and forfeyted themselues.
No: on the barren Mountaine let him sterue:
For I shall neuer hold that man my Friend,
Whose tongue shall aske me for one peny cost
To ransome home reuolted Mortimer

   Hot. Reuolted Mortimer?
He neuer did fall off, my Soueraigne Liege,
But by the chance of Warre: to proue that true,
Needs no more but one tongue. For all those Wounds,
Those mouthed Wounds, which valiantly he tooke,
When on the gentle Seuernes siedgie banke,
In single Opposition hand to hand,
He did confound the best part of an houre
In changing hardiment with great Glendower:
Three times they breath'd, and three times did they drink
Vpon agreement, of swift Seuernes flood;
Who then affrighted with their bloody lookes,
Ran fearefully among the trembling Reeds,
And hid his crispe-head in the hollow banke,
Blood-stained with these Valiant Combatants.
Neuer did base and rotten Policy
Colour her working with such deadly wounds;
Nor neuer could the Noble Mortimer
Receiue so many, and all willingly:
Then let him not be sland'red with Reuolt

   King. Thou do'st bely him Percy, thou dost bely him;
He neuer did encounter with Glendower:
I tell thee, he durst as well haue met the diuell alone,
As Owen Glendower for an enemy.
Art thou not asham'd? But Sirrah, henceforth
Let me not heare you speake of Mortimer.
Send me your Prisoners with the speediest meanes,
Or you shall heare in such a kinde from me
As will displease ye. My Lord Northumberland,
We License your departure with your sonne,
Send vs your Prisoners, or you'l heare of it.

Exit King.

  Hot. And if the diuell come and roare 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

   Nor. What? drunke with choller? stay & pause awhile,
Heere comes your Vnckle.
Enter Worcester.

  Hot. Speake of Mortimer?
Yes, I will speake of him, and let my soule
Want mercy, if I do not ioyne with him.
In his behalfe, Ile empty all these Veines,
And shed my deere blood drop by drop i'th dust,
But I will lift the downfall Mortimer
As high i'th Ayre, as this Vnthankfull King,
As this Ingrate and Cankred Bullingbrooke

   Nor. Brother, the King hath made your Nephew mad
  Wor. Who strooke this heate vp after I was gone?
  Hot. He will (forsooth) haue all my Prisoners:
And when I vrg'd the ransom once againe
Of my Wiues Brother, then his cheeke look'd pale,
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death,
Trembling euen at the name of Mortimer

   Wor. I cannot blame him: was he not proclaim'd
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood?
  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 murthered

   Wor. And for whose death, we in the worlds wide mouth
Liue scandaliz'd, and fouly spoken of

   Hot. But soft I pray you; did King Richard then
Proclaime my brother Mortimer,
Heyre to the Crowne?
  Nor. He did, my selfe did heare it

   Hot. Nay then I cannot blame his Cousin King,
That wish'd him on the barren Mountaines staru'd.
But shall it be, that you that set the Crowne
Vpon the head of this forgetfull man,
And for his sake, wore the detested blot
Of murtherous subornation? Shall it be,
That you a world of curses vndergoe,
Being the Agents, or base second meanes,
The Cords, the Ladder, or the Hangman rather?
O pardon, if that I descend so low,
To shew the Line, and the Predicament
Wherein you range vnder this subtill King.
Shall it for shame, be spoken in these dayes,
Or fill vp Chronicles 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 sweet louely Rose,
And plant this Thorne, this Canker Bullingbrooke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded, and shooke off
By him, for whom these shames ye vnderwent?
No: yet time serues, wherein you may redeeme
Your banish'd Honors, and restore your selues
Into the good Thoughts of the world againe.
Reuenge the geering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud King, who studies day and night
To answer all the Debt he owes vnto you,
Euen with the bloody Payment of your deaths:
Therefore I say-
  Wor. Peace Cousin, say no more.
And now I will vnclaspe a Secret booke,
And to your quicke conceyuing Discontents,
Ile reade you Matter, deepe and dangerous,
As full of perill and aduenturous Spirit,
As to o're-walke a Current, roaring loud
On the vnstedfast footing of a Speare

   Hot. If he fall in, good night, or sinke or swimme:
Send danger from the East vnto the West,
So Honor crosse it from the North to South,
And let them grapple: The blood more stirres
To rowze a Lyon, then to start a Hare

   Nor. Imagination of some great exploit,
Driues him beyond the bounds of Patience

   Hot. By heauen, me thinkes it were an easie leap,
To plucke 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 plucke vp drowned Honor by the Lockes:
So he that doth redeeme her thence, might weare
Without Co-riuall, all her Dignities:
But out vpon this halfe-fac'd Fellowship

   Wor. He apprehends a World of Figures here,
But not the forme of what he should attend:
Good Cousin giue me audience for a-while,
And list to me

   Hot. I cry you mercy

   Wor. Those same Noble Scottes
That are your Prisoners

   Hot. Ile keepe them all.
By heauen, he shall not haue a Scot of them:
No, if a Scot would saue his Soule, he shall 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 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

 King Henry meets with the Percy family and tells them he's been acting too soft lately because the Percys are totally out of control. From here on out, though, Henry's putting the kibosh on their insubordination. Worcester mouths off to Henry and reminds him that his family helped him become king. King Henry tells Worcester to shut his face and get out of his sight before he lays a smack down on him. Henry will let him know when he's allowed to talk. Worcester leaves in a huff and Northumberland tries to smooth things over for his kid. He doesn't deny that Hotspur refused to give the king his war prisoners but he says it's not as bad as it sounds. The whole thing is just a big misunderstanding. Hotspur, who can hardly contain himself, chimes in and comes up with an excuse for disrespecting the king. He says he didn't deny the prisoners to the king, per se, but he did yell at the guy who came to collect them. This guy, a "certain lord," ticked him off because he showed up on Hotspur's battlefield "fresh as a bridegroom," clean shaven, smelling like perfume, and acting all haughty at the sight of dead bodies scattered around. The guy also talked like a woman and complained about the smell of the corpses, which got on Hotspur's nerves. Hotspur admits he wasn't thinking when he told the guy to scram - he says didn't mean any disrespect to the king. Sir Walter Blunt tries to help smooth things over too, but King Henry isn't having it. He points out that Hotspur still refuses to give up his prisoners unless the king agrees to pay for Mortimer's ransom. Henry says he won't ransom Mortimer because the guy's a traitor to England - Henry claims that Mortimer let the Welsh army slaughter 1,000 English soldiers on purpose. Henry also points out that Mortimer has since married a Welsh woman, the daughter of the rebel leader Glendower. There's no way Henry's going to pay Mortimer's ransom. Hotspur's outraged at the king's accusation that Mortimer's a traitor. According to Hotspur, Mortimer is a war hero and was wounded in battle against Glendower when he fought in man-to-man combat for over an hour. Mortimer's wounds are proof that he's not a traitor and it's totally not cool for the king to slander him this way. King Henry says Hotspur's full of bologna - according to Henry, Mortimer never fought Glendower. Henry forbids Hotspur from uttering Mortimer's name ever again. And another thing, says Henry, hand over the war prisoner, pronto. After the king leaves the room, Hotspur tells his dad he'll never give the king his prisoners. Northumberland says Hotspur's out of his mind but the young Percy insists that he'd die for Mortimer. He calls the king an "ingrate." Worcester reenters and says that when King Richard II was alive, he named Mortimer as the heir to the throne. Northumberland says it's true - he heard it with his own ears, but later, when Richard was returning to England from fighting in Ireland, Henry intercepted him and seized the crown. He then had Richard murdered. Worcester says the Percy family has been blamed and scandalized for Richard's death and repeats that he heard Richard say Mortimer should be the heir to the throne. Hotspur seems not to have known that Richard II named Mortimer heir to the throne before he died. It's no wonder, he says, King Henry doesn't want to ransom Mortimer from the Welsh. As long as Mortimer's out of the picture, there's no immediate threat to the legitimacy of Henry's reign. Hotspur delivers a long speech about how the Percys have been dishonored by helping to depose King Richard II and place an inferior king on the throne. Now, said king is making the Percys look like a bunch of chumps. They should try to redeem their honor. Worcester cuts off Hotspur and says he's got a plan, but Hotspur is all fired up and keeps interrupting to talk about honor. Worcester threatens to leave since Hotspur won't pipe down and listen. Northumberland tells his son that he's a hothead and acts like a mouthy woman in a bad mood who won't listen to anyone. Hotspur says he can't help it - the two-faced king has him all riled up. The king was nice when he needed their help but now he's a jerk. Worcester reveals a plan - Hotspur will immediately release his prisoners without any ransom, but he'll keep one, who will be used to bargain with the Scots, who they want on their side. Worcester will send Hotspur a letter with specific instructions. Meanwhile, Northumberland will talk to the Archbishop of York, Richard Scroop about joining forces to overthrow King Henry. Worcester says the Archbishop will be down with the rebellion because Henry killed his brother for being one of King Richard's favorites. Eventually, the men agree, Worcester will also hook up with Glendower and Mortimer to raise a massive army against Henry's forces. In the meantime, they'll play it cool and pretend to be loyal subjects so the king doesn't get suspicious. Hotspur says he can't wait to get his battle on. He lives for war.

