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 cheeks look 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 th'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 cholick 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 have 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'Arch-deacon 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 ornaments;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot.
Marry, 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'ad rather hear a brazen candlestick tun'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 * ^notewriter) 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.

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