Hot.

Let me not understand you then:

Speak it in Welsh.

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as you,
For I was trained up in the English court;
Where, being but young, I framéd 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 turned,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing, so much as mincing poetry :-
"T is like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turned.
Hot. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land
Away 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: sometime 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-winged 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, last night, at the least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names

That were his lackeys: I cried, 'Humph,' and 'Well, go to,'

But marked him not a word. O, he's as tedious As is a tired horse, a railing

Worse than a smoky house.

wife;

I had rather live

With cheese and garlic in a windmill, far,
Then 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 wondrous 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.

Hot. Well, I am schooled: good manners be

your speed!

Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.

Re-enter GLENDOWER, with Lady MORTIMER and Lady PERCY.

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 you:

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

Mort. Good father, tell her, she and my aunt Percy

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[GLENDOWER speaks to her in Welsh, and

she answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-willed

harlotry,

One no persuasion can do good upon.

[She 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 should I answer thee.

[She speaks again.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned
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.

[She 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-harnessed 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; And 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.

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