Enter HOTSPURalone, reading a letter
But, for mine own part, my lord, I could be well contented to
be there, in respect of the love I bear your house. He could
be contented; why is he not, then? In respect of the love he
bears our house—he shows in this he loves his own barn
better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The
purpose you undertake is dangerous. Why, that’s certain.
'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you,
my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower,
safety. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends
you have named uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your
whole plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an
opposition. Say you so, say you so? I say unto you again, you
are a shallow, cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lack-brain
is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid,
our friends true and constant—a good plot, good friends,
and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends.
What a frosty-spirited rogue is this! Why, my Lord of York
commends the plot and the general course of the action.
Zounds, an I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with
his lady’s fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself?
Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen
Glendower? Is there not besides the Douglas? Have I not all
their letters to meet me in arms by the ninth of the next
month, and are they not some of them set forward already?
What a pagan rascal is this—an infidel! Ha, you shall see
now in very sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the
King and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide
myself and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skim
milk with so honorable an action! Hang him, let him tell the
King. We are prepared. I will set forward tonight.