Mort.
These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction^{7 note}

Hot.
Lord Mortimer,—and cousin Glendower,—
Will you sit down?—
And, uncle Worcester:—A plague upon it!
I have forgot the map.

Glend.
No, here it is.
Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur:
For by that name as oft as Lancaster
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale; and, with
A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.

Hot.
And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend.
I cannot blame him: at my nativity^{8 note}

Of burning cressets^{9 note}

Hot.
Why, so it would have done^{1 note}
At the same season, if your mother's cat had
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glend.
I say, the earth did shake when I was born.

Hot.
And I say the earth was not of my mind,
If you suppose, as fearing you it shook.

Glend.
The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hot.
O, then the earth shook to see the heavens on fire,
And not in fear of your nativity.
Diseased nature^{2 note} oftentimes breaks forth

In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth^{3 note}

Steeples, and moss-grown towers^{4 note}

. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, having this distemperature,
In passion shook.

Glend.
Cousin, of many men
I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave
To tell you once again,—that at my birth,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes;
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields^{5 note}

And hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot.
I think, there is no man speaks better Welsh:—
I'll to dinner.

Mort.
Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.

Glend.
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

Hot.
Why, so can I; or so can any man:
But will they come, when you do call for them?

Glend.
Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command the devil.

Hot.
And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil^{6 note},
By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.—
If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence.
O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.

Mort.
Come, come,
No more of this unprofitable chat.

Glend.
Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made head
Against my power: thrice from the banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him,
Bootless^{7 note}

Hot.
Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?

Glend.
Come, here's the map; Shall we divide our right,
According to our three-fold order ta'en?

Mort.
The archdeacon hath divided it^{8 note}

Into three limits, very equally:
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto^{9 note},
By south and east is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower:—and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn:
Which being sealed interchangeably,
(A business that this night may execute,)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,
As is appointed, us, at Shrewsbury.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:—
Within that space, [To Glend.] you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.

Glend.
A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
And in my conduct shall your ladies come:
From whom you now must steal, and take no leave;
For there will be a world of water shed,
Upon the parting of your wives and you.

Hot.
Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here^{1 note},

In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this river comes me cranking in^{2 note}

Glend.
Not wind? it shall, it must; you see, it doth.

Mort.
Yea,
But mark, how he bears his course, and runs me up
With like advantage on the other side;
Gelding the opposed continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you.

Wor.
Yea, but a little charge will trench him here,
And on this north side win this cape of land;
And then he runs straight and even.

Hot.
I'll have it so; a little charge will do it.

Glend.
I will not have it alter'd.

Hot.
Will not you?

Glend.
No, nor you shall not.

Hot.
Who shall say me nay?

Glend.
Why that will I.

Hot.
Let me not understand you then^{4 note},
Speak it in Welsh.

Glend.
I can speak English, lord, as well as you;
For I was train'd up in the English court^{5 note}

Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue^{6 note}

Hot.
Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart;
I had rather be a kitten, and cry—mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd^{7 note}

Glend.
Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

Hot.
I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend;

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair.
Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone?

Glend.
The moon shines fair, you may away by night:
I'll in and haste the writer^{8 note}

Mort.
Fye, cousin Percy! how you cross my father!

Hot.
I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant^{9 note}

Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies; ^note

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;
Worse than a smoky house^{5 note}



:—I had rather live
With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort.
In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments^{6 note}
; valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; 'faith, he does:
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;
But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor.
In faith, my lord, you are too wilfulblame^{7 note}

And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, blood,
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,)
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtiness, opinion^{8 note}, and disdain:
The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot.
Well, I am school'd; good manners be your speed!
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. Re-enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort.
This is the deadly spite that angers me,—
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.

Glend.
My daughter weeps; she will not part with you,
She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.

Mort.
Good father, tell her,—that she, and my aunt Percy,
Shall follow in your conduct speedily. [Glendower speaks to his Daughter in Welsh, and she answers him in the same.

Glend.
She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry^{9 note}
,
One that no persuasion^{1 note} can do good upon. [Lady M. speaks to Mortimer in Welsh.

Mort.
I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh
Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens^{2 note}

Glend.
Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad^{6 note}
. [Lady M. speaks again.

Mort.
O, I am ignorance itself in this^{7 note}

.

Glend.
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down^{8 note}

Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep^{1 note},
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort.
With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing:
By that time will our book^{2 note}, I think, be drawn.

Glend.
Do so;
And those musicians that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
And straight they shall be here^{3 note}

: sit, and attend.

Hot.

Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap.

Lady P.

Go, ye giddy goose.

Hot.
Now I perceive, the devil understands Welsh;
And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous.
By'r-lady, he's a good musician.

Lady P.

Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

Hot.

I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.

Lady P.

Would'st thou have thy head broken?

Hot.

No.

Lady P.

Then be still.

Hot.

Neither; 'tis a woman's fault^{4 note}

Lady P.

Now God help thee!

Hot.

To the Welsh lady's bed.

Lady P.

What's that?

Hot.

Peace! she sings.

Hot.

Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.

Lady P.

Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot.

Not yours, in good sooth! 'Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good sooth; and, As true as I live; and, As God shall mend me; and, As sure as day:

Come, sing.

Lady P.

I will not sing.

Hot.

'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-breast teacher^{8 note}

away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.

Glend.
Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow,
As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.
By this our book's drawn^{9 note}

Mort.
With all my heart. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, and Lords.

K. Hen.
Lords, give us leave; the Prince of Wales and I,
Must have some private conference: But be near at hand^{1 note},
For we shall presently have need of you.— [Exeunt Lords.
I know not whether God will have it so,
For some displeasing service^{2 note} I have done,
That in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou dost, in thy passages of life^{3 note},
Make me believe,—that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,
Could such inordinate, and low desires,
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts^{4 note}

Such barren pleasures, rude society,
As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,
And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen
So please your majesty, I would, I could
Quit all offences with as clear excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg^{5 note},
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd^{6 note},—
Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,—
By smiling pick-thanks^{7 note}

K. Hen.
God pardon thee!—yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which do hold a wing
Quite from the flight of all thy ancestors.

Thy place in council thou hast rudely lost^{8 note}

And dress'd myself in such humility,
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts^{2 note}

Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths,
Even in the presence of the crowned king.
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new;
My presence, like a robe pontifical,
Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at^{3 note}



: and so my state,
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast;
And won, by rareness, such solemnity.
The skipping king, he ambled up and down
With shallow jesters, and rash bavin wits^{4 note}

Mingled his royalty with capering fools^{6 note}

And gave his countenance, against his name^{7 note}

Of every beardless vain comparative^{9 note}

They surfeited with honey; and began
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little
More than a little is by much too much.
So, when he had occasion to be seen,
He was but as the cuckoo is in June,
Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes,
As, sick and blunted with community,
Afford no extraordinary gaze,
Such as is bent on sun-like majesty
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes:
But rather drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids down,
Slept in his face, and render'd such aspéct
As cloudy men use to their adversaries^{3 note}
;
Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd, and full.
And in that very line, Harry, standest thou^{4 note}
:
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,
With vile participation; not an eye
But is a-weary of thy common sight,
Save mine, which hath desir'd to see thee more;
Which now doth that I would not have it do,
Make blind itself with foolish tenderness.

P. Hen.
I shall hereafter, my thrice-gracious lord,
Be more myself.

K. Hen.
For all the world^{5 note}
,

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then
When I from France set foot at Ravenspurg;
And even as I was then, is Percy now.
Now by my scepter, and my soul to boot,
He hath more worthy interest to the state,
Than thou, the shadow of succession^{6 note}

Discomfited great Douglas: ta'en him once,
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him,
To fill the mouth of deep defiance up,
And shake the peace and safety of our throne.
And what say you to this? Percy, Northumberland,
The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer,
Capitulate^{7 note}

P. Hen.
Do not think so, you shall not find it so;
And God forgive them, that have so much sway'd
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me!
I will redeem all this on Percy's head,
And, in the closing of some glorious day,
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son;
When I will wear a garment all of blood,
And stain my favours in a bloody mask^{9 note}

Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it.
And that shall be the day, whene'er it lights,
That this same child of honour and renown,
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight,
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet:
For every honour sitting on his helm,
'Would they were multitudes; and on my head
My shames redoubled! for the time will come,
That I shall make this northern youth exchange
His glorious deeds for my indignities.
Percy is but my factor, good my lord,
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf;
And I will call him to so strict account,
That he shall render every glory up,
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time,
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart.
This, in the name of God, I promise here:
The which if he be pleas'd I shall perform,
I do beseech your majesty, may salve
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance:

If not, the end of life cancels all bands^{1 note}

K. Hen.
A hundred thousand rebels die in this:
Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust, herein. Enter Blunt.
How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of speed.

Blunt.
So hath the business that I come to speak of^{2 note}.
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word^{3 note},—
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met,

The eleventh of this month, at Shrewsbury:
A mghty and a fearful head they are,
If promises be kept on every hand,
As ever offer'd foul play in a state.

K. Hen.
The earl of Westmoreland set forth today;
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster;
For this advertisement is five days old:—
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set forward;
On Thursday, we ourselves will march:
Our meeting is Bridgnorth: and, Harry, you
Shall march through Glostershire; by which account,
Our business valued, some twelve days hence
Our general forces at Bridgnorth shall meet.
Our hands are full of business: let's away;
Advantage feeds him fat^{4 note}