Page 684 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

HOTSPUR

I have done, i’ faith.

WORCESTER
Then once more to your Scottish prisoners.
Deliver them up without their ransom straight,
And make the Douglas’ son your only mean

For powers in Scotland − which, for divers reasons [260]
Which I shall send you written, be assured
Will easily be granted.
[To Northumberland]

You, my lord,
Your son in Scotland being thus employed,
Shall secretly into the bosom creep
Of that same noble prelate well-beloved, [265]

The archbishop.

HOTSPUR
Of York, is it not?

WORCESTER
True; who bears hard
His brother’s death at Bristow, the Lord Scroop.
I speak not this in estimation,

As what I think might be, but what I know [270]
Is ruminated, plotted, and set down,
And only stays but to behold the face
Of that occasion that shall bring it on.

HOTSPUR

I smell it. Upon my life, it will do well.

NORTHUMBERLAND

Before the game is afoot thou still let’st slip. [275]

HOTSPUR
Why, it cannot choose but be a noble plot.