P. Hen. O monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning. We must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and I know his death will be a march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and good morrow, Pointz.

Poin. Good morrow, good my lord.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. Bangor. A room in the Archdeacon's house. Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER. Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure,

And our induction full of prosperous hope.

Hot. Lord Mortimer,

Will you sit down?

And uncle Worcester:

I have forgot the map.

Glend.

and cousin Glendower,

a plague upon it!

No, here it is.

Sit, cousin Percy; — sit, good cousin Hotspur,
For by that name as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale, and with
A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets; and at my birth

The frame and huge foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward.

Hot.

At the same season, if

Why, so it would have done

your mother's cat

Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glend. I say the earth did shake when I was born.
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 th' 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 colic pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind

Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldam 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'll to dinner.

Mort. Peace, cousin 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, 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've 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 scap'd 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 sealèd 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:

-

[To Glend.] Within that space 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 th' 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 straightly and evenly.

Hot. I'll have it so: a little charge will do it.
I will not have it alter'd.

Glend.

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.

Ilot. 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 the axletree;

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 in and 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.

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-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 last night at the least nine hours

In reckoning up the several devils' names

[Exit.

That were his lackeys: I cried "hum," 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 garlic in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer-house in Christendom.