Mortimer.
These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosp'rous hope.

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 Hot-spur:
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 heav'n.

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

Glend.
I blame him not: at my Nativity,
The front of heav'n was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning Cressets; know, that, at my birth,
The frame and the foundation of the earth
Shook like a coward.

Hot.
So it wou'd have done
At the same season, if your mother's cat
Had kitten'd, though your self had ne'er been born.

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

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

Glend.
The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hot.
O, then the earth shook to see the heav'ns on fire,
And not in fear of your Nativity.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vext,
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down
High tow'rs and moss-grown steeples. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, with 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 heav'n was full of fiery shapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were strangely clam'rous in the frighted fields:
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do shew,
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
Or 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 thee to command the devil.

Hot.
And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the devil.—
If thou hast pow'r to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be sworn, I've pow'r to shame him hence.
Oh, 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 Pow'r; thrice from the banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent
Him bootless home, and weather-beaten back.

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 threefold order ta'en?

Mort.
Th' Archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Severn hitherto,
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, 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,
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this river comes me crankling in,
And cuts me, from the best of all my Land,
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle out.

I'll have the Current in this place damm'd up:
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly:
It shall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of so rich a bottom here.

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

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

Wor.
Yes, but a little charge will trench him here,
And on this north-side win this cape of land,
And then he runs strait 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,
Speak it in Welsh.

Glend.
I can speak English, lord, as well as you,
For I was train'd up in the English Court:
Where, being young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue, that was never seen in you.

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 meeter-ballad-mongers;
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
And that would nothing set my teeth on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing Poetry;
'Tis like the forc'd gate of a shuffling nag.

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 haste the writer) and withal,
Break with your wives of your departure hence:
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad;
So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit.

Mort.
Fie, cousin Percy, how you cross my father?

Hot.
I cannot chuse; sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarp and the Ant,
Of dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a finless fish,
A clipt-wing Griffin, and a moulting Raven;
A couching Lion, and a ramping Cat;
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff,
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me the last night at least nine hours,
In reck'ning up the several devils names,
That were his lackeys: I cry'd, hum,—and well,—
But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As a tir'd horse, or as a railing wife:
Worse than a smoaky house. I'd rather live
With cheese and garlick, in a windmil, 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; valiant as a Lion;
And wond'rous affable; 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 intreat you.

Wor.
In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame,
And, since your coming here, have done enough
To put him quite besides his patience:
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault;

Though sometimes it shews 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, 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. Enter Glendower, with the ladies.

Mort.
This is the deadly spight 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, she and my aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct speedily. [Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same.

Glend.
She's desp'rate here: a peevish self-will'd harlotry,
That no persuasion can do good upon. [The Lady speaks in Welsh.

Mort.
I understand thy looks; that pretty Welsh,
Which thou pow'r'st down from those two swelling heavens,
I am too perfect in: and, but for shame,
In such a parly should I answer thee. [The Lady again in Welsh.
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,(18) ^note

And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
'Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair Queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division to her lute.

Glend.
Nay, if thou melt, then will she run mad. [The Lady speaks again in Welsh.

Mort.
O, I am ignorance it self in this.

Glend.
She bids you,
All on the wanton rushes lay you down,
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the God of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such diff'rence betwixt wake and sleep,
As is the diff'rence betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heav'nly-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, I think, be drawn.

Glend.
Do so;
And those musicians, that shall play to you,
Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet strait they shall be here; sit, and attend.

Hot.

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

Lad.

Go, ye giddy goose.

Hot.

Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh, and 'tis no marvel, he is so humourous: by'rlady, he's a good musician.

Lady.

Then would you be nothing but musical, for you are altogether govern'd 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.

Would'st have thy head broken?

Hot.

No.

Lady.

Then be still.

Hot.

Neither, 'tis a woman's fault.

Lady.

Now God help thee!

Hot.

To the Welsh lady's bed.

Lady.

What's that?

Hot.

Peace, she sings. [Here the Lady sings a Welsh song. Come, I'll have your song too.

Lady.

Not mine, in good sooth.

Hot.

Not yours, in good sooth! 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: and givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, as if thou never walk'd'st further than Finsbury.

Lady.

I will not sing.

Hot.

'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be Robin-Red-Breast teacher: if the indentures be drawn, I'll 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 is drawn: we will but seal,
And then to horse immediately.

Mort.
With all my heart. [Exeunt.

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