And, uncle Worcester-A plague upon it!
I have forgot the map.

Glend. No, here it is;

Sit, coufin Percy, fit, good coufin Hot Spur:
For by that name, as oft as Lancaster

Doth fpeak of you, his cheek looks pale; and with
A rifing figh, he witheth 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 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 yourfelf had ne'er been born.
Glend. I fay, the earth did fhake when I was born.
Hot. I fay, the earth then was not of my mind;
If you fuppofe, as fearing you, it hook.

Glend. The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did tremble. Hot. O, then the earth fhook to see the heav'ns on fire, And not in fear of your nativity.

Difeafed nature oftentimes breaks forth

In ftrange eruptions; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of cholick pinch'd and vext,
By the imprifoning of unruly wind

Within her womb; which, for enlargement ftriving,
Shakes the old beldam earth and topples down
High tow'rs and mofs-grown fteeples. At your birth,
Our grandam earth, with this diftemperature,

In paffion fhock.

Glend. Coufin, of many men

I do not bear thefe croffings: give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of heav'n was full of fiery fhapes,
The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
Were frangely clam'rous in the frighted fields:
Thefe figns have mark'd me extraordinary,..
And all the courfes of my life do fhew,
I am not in the roll of common men..

Where

Where is he living clipt in with the fea

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 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 fpirits from the vasty deep. Hot. Why, fo can I, or fo 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 fhame 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. 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 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?

Glend. Come, here's the map: fhall we divide our right, According to our threefold order ta'en?

Mort. Th' Archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally :

England, from Trent, and Severn hitherto,
By fouth and eaft, is to my part affign'd;
All weftward, Wales, beyond the Severn fhore,
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 fealed interchangeably,
(A bufinefs, that this night may execute)
To-morrow, coufin Percy, you and I,

And

And my good Lard 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 fhall we need his help thefe fourteen days:
Within that space, you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
Glend. A fhorter time fhall fend me to you, Lords:
And in my conduct fhall your Ladies come,

From whom you now muft fteal and take no leave ;
For there will be a world of water fhed,
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 monftrous cantle out.
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up:
And here the fmug and filver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly:

It fhall not wind with such a deep indent,
To rob me of fo rich a bottom here.

Glend. Not wind? it fhall, it must; you fee, it doth. Mort. But mark, he bears his courfe, and runs me up With like advantage on the other fide,

Gelding th' oppofed continent as much,

As on the other fide it takes from you.

Wor. Yes, but a little charge will trench him here, And on this north-fide win this cape of land,

And then he runs ftrait and even.

Hot. I'll have it fo, 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 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,

For I was train'd up

in the English court:

Where,

Where, being 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 fame meeter-ballad-mongers;
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
And that would nothing fet my teeth on edge,
Nothing fo'much as mincing poetry;
'Tis like the forc'd gate of a fhuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

Hot. I do not care; I'll give thrice so much land

To any well-deferving 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 fhines fair, you may away by night:

(I'll hate the writer) and withal,

Break with your wives of your departure hence:

crofs my

[Exit.

father

I am afraid, my daughter will run mad;
So much the doteth on her Mortimer.
Mort. Fy, coufin Percy, how you
Hot. I cannot chufe; fometime he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of dreamer Merlin, and his prophecies;
And of a dragon, and a finless fish,

A clipt-wing griffin, and a moulting raven;
A couching lion, and a ramping cat ;
And fuch a deal of skimble-fkamble stuff,
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,
He held me the last night at least nine hours,
In reck'ning up the feveral devils names,
That were his lackeys: I cry'd, hum,-and well,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As a tir'd horfe, or as a railing wife:
Worse than a fmoaky houfe. I'd rather live
With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far;
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,

In

In any fummer-house in chriftendom.
Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman ;
Exceedingly well read, and profited

In ftrange concealments; valiant as a lion ;
And wond'rous affable; as bountiful
As mines of India: fhall I tell you, coufin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself, even of his natural scope,
When you do crofs his humour; 'faith, he does.
I warrant you, that man is not alive

Might fo have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof.

But do not use it oft, let me intreat you.

Wor. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilful-blame, And, fince your coming here, have done enough

To put him quite befides his patience":

You must needs learn, Lord, to amend this fault;
Though fometimes it fhews greatnefs, courage, blood,
(And that's the deareft grace it renders you ;)
Yet oftentimes it doth prefent harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of government,
Pride, haughtinefs, opinion, and disdain:
The leaft of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Lofeth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts befides,

Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am fchool'd: good manners be your speed! Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

Mort. This is the deadly spight that angers me, My wife can speak no English, I no Welf.

Glend. My daughter weeps, fhe will not part with you, She'll be a foldier too, fhe'll to the wars.

Mort. Good father, tell her, she and my Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

aunt Percy

[Glendower Speaks to her in Welsh, and she an fwers him in the fame.

Glend.She's defp'rate here: a peevish felf-will'd harlotry,

That