Mor.
These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our ^{2 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: ^{3 note}at my nativity,
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets^{4 note}

^note house in Bishopsgate street.” Again, in the Stately Moral of the Three Lords of London, 1590:

The cresset-lights were lights fixed on a moveable frame or cross, like a turnstile, and were carried on poles, in processions. I have seen them represented in an ancient print from Van Velde. Steevens.

Hot.
Why, so it would have done

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.
^{5 note}Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth
In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of cholic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth^{6 note}

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.9Q0692
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 living9Q0693,—clipp'd in with the sea,
That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales,—
Which 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 will 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, cousin, to command
The devil.

Hot.
And I can teach thee, cousin, to shame the devil,
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,9Q0694
Booteless home^{7 note}, 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 three-fold order taken?

Mort.
The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally:
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,9Q0695
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. [To Glendower.

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,9Q0696
In quantity equals not one of yours:
See, how this river comes me cranking in^{8 note}
,

And cuts me, from the best of all my land,
A huge half-moon, a monstrous cantle^{9 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,
Speak it in Welsh.

Glend.
I can speak English, lord, as well as you;

For I was train'd up in the English court^{1 note}:
Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,
And gave ^{2 note}the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot.
Marry, and I'm glad on't with all my heart;9Q0697
I had rather be a kitten, and cry—mew,
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear ^{3 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:

^{4 note}

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

Hot.
I cannot chuse: sometimes he angers me,
With telling me ^{5 note}

That were his lacqueys: I cry'd, hum,—and well,—go to,—
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:—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 ^{8 note}
profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wond'rous 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 ^{9 note}
too wilful-blame;
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 shew 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. Re-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 desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry, one
That no persuasion can do good upon. [Lady speaks to Mortimer in Welsh.

Mort.
I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh
Which thou pourest down from these 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,
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 you melt, then will she run mad. [The lady speaks again in Welsh.

Mort.
O, I am ignorance itself in this^{1 note}

.

Glend.
She bids you,
^{2 note}

Mort.
With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing:
By that time will ^{5 note}our book, I think, be drawn.

Glend.
Do so;
^{6 note}

Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
Yet straight they shall be here9Q0699: 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.
Go, ye giddy goose. [The music plays.

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.

Then should 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.
^{7 note}