Wor. Peace, Coufin, fay no more. Hot. If he fall in, good night. Or fink or swim, So Honour cross it from the north to fouth; O! the blood more ftirs To rouze a Lion, than to ftart a Hare. North. Imagination of fome great exploit Drives him beyond, the bounds of patience. Hot. By heav'n, methinks, it were an eafy leap, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship! Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here, But not the form of what he fhould attend. Good Coufin, give me audience for a while, Hot. I cry you mercy. Wor. Thofe fame noble Scots, That are your prifoners Hot. I'll keep them all. By heav'n, he shall not have a Scot of them: I'll keep them, by this hand. Wor. You ftart away, And lend no ear unto my purposes; Those prisoners you fhall keep. Hot. I will; that's flat: He faid, he would not ranfom Mortimer : Forbad my tongue to fpeak of Mortimer: But But I will find him when he lies asleep, Hot. All Studies here I folemnly defy, Wor. Farewel, my kinfman; I will talk to you, When you are better temper'd to attend. North. Why, what a wafp-tongu'd and impatient fool Art thou, to break into this woman's mood, Nettled, and ftung with pifmires, when I hear In Richard's time-what do you call the place ?- Hot. You fay true: Why, what a deal of candied Courtesy -- And gentle Harry Percyand kind coufin We'll ftay your leisure. Hot. Hot. I have done, i'faith. Wor. Then once more to your Scottish prisoners. Of that fame noble Prelate, well belov'd, Hot. York, is't not? Wor. True, who bears hard His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop. As what, I think, might be; but what, I know, And only stays but to behold the face Of that occafion, that shall bring it on. Hot. I fmell it on my life, it will do well, North. Before the game's a-foot, thou ftill lett'ft flip. Hot. It cannot chufe but be a noble Plot; And then the power of Sotland, and of York To join with Mortimer; ha! Wor. So they fhall. Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. Hot. He does, he does; we'll be reveng'd on him. Than I by letters fhall direct your course; When When time is ripe, which will be suddenly, To bear our fortunes in our own ftrong arms, Which now we hold at much uncertainty. [truft. North. Farewel, good brother; we shall thrive, I Hot. Uncle, adieu: O let the hours be short, 'Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our sport! [Exeunt. АСТ II. SCENE I. An Inn at Rochester. Enter a Carrier with a Lanthorn in his Hand. I CARRIER. HEIGH ho! an't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd. Charles' wain is over the new chimney, and yet our horfe not packt. What, oftler? Oft. [within.] Anon, anon. 1 Car. I pr'ythee, Tom, beat Cutt's faddle, put a few flocks in the point: the poor jade is wrung in the withers, out of all cefs. Enter another Carrier. 2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank here as a dog, and that is the next way to give poor jades the bots: this house is turn'd upfide down, fince Robin Oftler dy'd. 1 Car. Poor fellow never joy'd fince the price of oats rofe, it was the death of him. 2 Gar. I think, this be the most villainous house in all London road for fleas : I am ftung like a Tench. 1 Car. Like a Tench? by th' Mass, there's ne'er a King in Christendom could be better bit than I have been fince the firft cock. 2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a jourdan, and then we leak in your chimney: and your chamber-lie breds fleas like a Loach. 1 Car. What, oftler, come away, and be hang'd, come away. 2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two razes of ginger to be deliver'd as far as Charing-crofs. 1 Car. 'Odfbody, the Turkies in my panniers are quite ftarv'd. What, oftler? a plague on thee! haft thou never an eye in thy head? canft not hear? an 'twere not as good a deed as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a very villain. Come and be hang'd, haft no faith in thee? Enter Gads-hill. Gads. Good-morrow, carriers. What's o'clock ? Car. I think, it be two o'clock. Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lanthorn, to fee my gelding in the stable. I Car. Nay, foft, I pray ye; I know a trick worth two of that, i'faith. Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thine. 2 Car. Ay, when? canft tell? lend me thy lanthorn, quoth a! marry, I'll fee thee hang'd firft. Gads. Sirrah, carrier, what time do you mean to come to London? 2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a Candle, I warrant thee. Come, neighbour Mugges, we'll call up the gentlemen; they will along with Company, for they have great Charge. [Exeunt Carriers. Enter Chamberlain. Gads. WCham. At hand, quoth pick-purse. 7HAT, ho, chamberlain ! Gads. |