HOT.
Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourged with rods,
Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear
Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
In Richard's time,--what do you call the place?--
A plague upon't!--it is in Gioucestershire;--
'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle kept,
His uncle York;--where I first bow'd my knee
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke;--
When you and he came back from Ravenspurg.

NORTH.
At Berkeley-castle.

HOT.
You say true:--
Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
This fawning greyhound then did proffer me!
Look, when his infant fortune came to age,
And, Gentle Harry Percy, and kind cousin,--
O, the Devil take such cozeners!--God forgive me!--
Good uncle, tell your tale; for I have done.

WOR.
Nay, if you have not, to't again;
We'll stay your leisure.

HOT.
I have done, i'faith.