Hot. Lord Mortimer, and coufin Glendower, And, uncle Worcester a plague upon it! Glend. No, here it is; Sit, coufin Percy; fit, good cousin Hot-spur: Doth fpeak of you, his cheek looks pale; and with 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 fhapes, Of burning Creffets; 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 fame feason, if your mother's cat Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. Glend. I fay, the earth did shake when I was born. Hot. I fay, the earth then was not of my mind; If you fuppofe, as fearing you, it fhook. Glend. The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did tremble. [fire, Hot. O, then the earth shook to fee the heav'ns on And not in fear of your nativity. Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In ftrange eruptions; and the teeming earth By the imprisoning of unruly wind Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, Glend. Coufin, of many men I do not bear these croffings: give me leave The The front of heav'n was full of fiery shapes; I am not in the roll of common men. That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland, And bring him out, that is but woman's fon, Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, Or hold me pace in deep experiments. Hot. I think, there is no man fpeaks better Welsh. I'll to dinner Mort. Peace, coufin 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. Het. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth and fhame the devil.If thou haft pow'r to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be fworn, I've pow'r to fhame him hence. Oh, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil. Mort. Gome, come! No more of this unprofitable chat. [head Glend. Three times hath Henry Bolingbroke made Againft my pow'r; thrice from the banks of Wye, And fandy-bottom'd Severn, have I fent Him bootlefs home, and weather-beaten back. Hot. Home, without boots, and in foul weather too! How 'fcapes he agues, in the devil's name? [Right, Glend. Come, here's the Map: Shall we divide our According to our threefold order ta'en? Mort. Th' Archdeacon hath divided it England, from Trent, and Severn hitherto, D 2 All All weftward, Wales, beyond the Severn fhore, And my good lord of Worcester, will fet forth, My father Glendower is not ready yet, Nor fhall we need his help these fourteen days: Within that space, you may have drawn together Your tenants, friends, and neigbouring gentlemen. Glend. A fhorter 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 fhed, Upon the parting of your wives and you. [here, Hot. Methinks, my portion, north from Burton In quantity equals not one of yours: It fhall not wind with such a deep indent, Glend. Not wind? it fhall, it must; you fee, 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, Wor. Yes, but a little charge will trench him here, Hot. Hot. I'll have it fo, a little charge will do it. Hot. Will not you? Glend. No, nor you fhall not. Hot. Who fhall fay me nay? Glend. Why, that will I. Hot. Let me not understand you then, Speak it in Welsh. Glend. I can fpeak English, lord, as well as you, And gave the tongue a helpful ornament; Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart, I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew! Than one of thefe fame meeter-ballad-mongers; Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree, 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag. 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? fhall we be gone? Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away by night: (I'll hafte the writer) and withal, Break with your Wives of your departure hence: I am afraid my daughter will run mad; So much the doteth on her Mortimer. SCENE [Exit. II. Mort. Hot. I cannot chufe; fometime he a D 3 father? angers me, With With telling of the Moldwarp and the Ant, A clipt-wing Griffin, and a moulting raven; That were his lackeys: I cry'd, hum,—and well,— As a tir'd horse, or as a railing wife: Worfe than a fmoky house. I'd rather live Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; In flrange concealments; valiant as a Lion; Might fo have tempted him as you have done, But do not use it oft, let me intreat you. 1 Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame, You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault; Lofeth |