WORCESTER.
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
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.
HOTSPUR.
If we 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. O, the blood more stirs
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.
HOTSPUR.
By Heaven, methinks it were an easy leap
To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced 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-faced fellowship!
WORCESTER.
He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.—
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.
HOTSPUR.
I cry you mercy.
WORCESTER.
Those same noble Scots
That are your prisoners—
HOTSPUR.
I’ll keep them all;
By God, he shall not have a Scot of them,
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not.
I’ll keep them, by this hand!
WORCESTER.
You start away,
And lend no ear unto my purposes:
Those prisoners you shall keep—
HOTSPUR.
Nay, I will: that’s flat.
He said he would not ransom Mortimer,
Forbade 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.