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 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, and topples down
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. 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.
These signs have mark'd me extraordinary;
And all the courses of my life do show,

I am not in the roll of common men.

Where is he living,-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,

And 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.

• Tumbles.

Hot. Why, so can 1; or so can any man:

But will they come, when you do call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach you, consin, 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.

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 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 three-fold 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 tripartitet 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.

Unsuccessful.

+ Three copies.

+ Force.

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,

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 cantlet 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.

Speak it in Welsh.

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,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry;

'Tis like the forc'd 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 writert, 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. Fy, cousin Percy! how you cross my fa.

ther!

Hot. I cannot choose: sometimes he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

A clip-wing'd griffiu, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,

Candlestick.

Break the matter.

The writer of the articles.

§ Mole.

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,

That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,-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 profited

In strange concealments t; 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.