North. He did; myself did hear it.
Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin king,
That wish'd him on the barren mountains starve.[2166]
But shall it be, that you, that set the crown160
Upon the head of this forgetful man
And for his sake wear the detested blot[2167]
Of murderous subornation, shall it be,[2168]
That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second means,165
The cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather?[2169]
O, pardon me that I descend so low,[2170]
To show the line and the predicament
Wherein you range under this subtle king;
Shall it for shame be spoken in these days,170
Or fill up chronicles in time to come,
That men of your nobility and power
Did gage them both in an unjust behalf,[2171]
As both of you—God pardon it!—have done,
To put down Richard, that sweet lovely rose,175
And plant this thorn, this canker, Bolingbroke?
And shall it in more shame be further spoken,
That you are fool'd, discarded and shook off
By him for whom these shames ye underwent?
No; yet time serves wherein you may redeem180
Your banish'd honours and restore yourselves[2172]
Into the good thoughts of the world again,
Revenge the jeering and disdain'd contempt
Of this proud king, who studies day and night
To answer all the debt he owes to you[2173]185
Even with the bloody payment of your deaths:[2174]
Therefore, I say,—
Wor. Peace, cousin, say no more:
And now I will unclasp a secret book,[2175]
And to your quick-conceiving discontents[2176]
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,[2177]190
As full of peril and adventurous spirit
As to o'er-walk a current roaring loud[2178]
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear.[2179]
Hot. If he fall in, good night! or sink or swim:[2180]
Send danger from the east unto the west,195
So honour cross it from the north to south,[2181]
And let them grapple: O, the blood more stirs[2182]
To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
North. Imagination of some great exploit
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience.200
Hot. By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap,[2183]
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;205
So he that doth redeem her thence might wear
Without corrival all her dignities:[2184]
But out upon this half-faced fellowship!
Wor. He apprehends a world of figures here,
But not the form of what he should attend.[2185]210
Good cousin, give me audience for a while.[2186]
Hot. I cry you mercy.
Wor. Those same noble Scots[2187]
That are your prisoners,—[2187]
Hot. I'll keep them all;
By God, he shall not have a Scot of them;[2188]
No, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not:215
I'll keep them, by this hand.