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, 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.
[head
Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke inade
Against my power: 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. The 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 [To Glendower], 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 cranking 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. 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.

Glend. No, nor you shall not.

Hot.

Glend. Why, that will I.
Hot.

Speak it in Welsh.

Will not you?

Who shall say me nay?

Let me not understand you then,

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you;
For I was train'd up in the English court:
Where, being but 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 metre ballad-mongers:
I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd,

1

Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;
'Tis like the forced gait 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 choose: sometimes he angers me,

With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin, and his prophesies;
And of a dragon, and a finless fish,
A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten 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, but last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names, [go to,-
That were his lackeys: I cried humph, and well,-
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 garlic, 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; 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 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 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, 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.

[speed!

Hot. Well, I am school'd; good manners be your

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

She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.

[you,

Mort. Good father, tell her,-that she, and my aunt

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[Percy,

[Glendower speaks to his Daughter in Welsh,

and she answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harOne no persuasion can do good upon.

[lotry,

[Lady M. 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 parley would I answer thee. [Lady M. speaks.

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

D

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.

[Lady M. speaks again.

Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.
Glend. She bids you

Upon 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 eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
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, 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 straight 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. Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose.

[Glendower speaks some Welsh words, and then 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 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. Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
Hot. No.

Lady P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.

Lady P. Now God help thee!