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    Act 3. Scene I

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    Chapter 8
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    SCENE I. Bangor. The Archdeacon's house.

    Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER
    MORTIMER
    These promises are fair, the parties sure,
    And our induction full of prosperous hope.

    HOTSPUR
    Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower,
    Will you sit down?
    And uncle Worcester: a plague upon it!
    I have forgot the map.

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    And you in hell, as oft as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.

    GLENDOWER
    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
    Shaked like a coward.

    HOTSPUR
    Why, so it would have done at the same season, if
    your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself
    had never been born.

    GLENDOWER
    I say the earth did shake when I was born.

    HOTSPUR
    And I say the earth was not of my mind,
    If you suppose as fearing you it shook.

    GLENDOWER
    The heavens were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

    HOTSPUR
    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 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.

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    I think there's no man speaks better Welsh.
    I'll to dinner.

    MORTIMER
    Peace, cousin Percy; you will make him mad.

    GLENDOWER
    I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

    HOTSPUR
    Why, so can I, or so can any man;
    But will they come when you do call for them?

    GLENDOWER
    Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command
    The devil.

    HOTSPUR
    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!

    MORTIMER
    Come, come, no more of this unprofitable chat.

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
    How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name?

    GLENDOWER
    Come, here's the map: shall we divide our right
    According to our threefold order ta'en?

    MORTIMER
    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 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.
    My father Glendower is not ready yet,
    Not shall we need his help these fourteen days.
    Within that space you may have drawn together
    Your tenants, friends and neighbouring gentlemen.

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    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.

    GLENDOWER
    Not wind? it shall, it must; you see it doth.

    MORTIMER
    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.

    EARL OF WORCESTER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    I'll have it so: a little charge will do it.

    GLENDOWER
    I'll not have it alter'd.

    HOTSPUR
    Will not you?

    GLENDOWER
    No, nor you shall not.

    HOTSPUR
    Who shall say me nay?

    GLENDOWER
    Why, that will I.

    HOTSPUR
    Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh.

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    Marry,
    And I am 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 axle-tree;
    And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
    Nothing so much as mincing poetry:
    'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.

    GLENDOWER
    Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.

    HOTSPUR
    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?

    GLENDOWER
    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 GLENDOWER

    MORTIMER
    Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father!

    HOTSPUR
    I cannot choose: sometime he angers me
    With telling me of the mouldwarp 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 least nine hours
    In reckoning up the several devils' names
    That were his lackeys: I cried 'hum,' and 'well, go to,'
    But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
    As 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.

    MORTIMER
    In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,
    Exceedingly well read, and profited
    In strange concealments, valiant as a lion
    And as 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 come '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.

    EARL OF WORCESTER
    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.

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

    Re-enter GLENDOWER with the ladies

    MORTIMER
    This is the deadly spite that angers me;
    My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.

    GLENDOWER
    My daughter weeps: she will not part with you;
    She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars.

    MORTIMER
    Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy
    Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

    Glendower speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same

    GLENDOWER
    She is desperate here; a peevish self-wind harlotry,
    one that no persuasion can do good upon.

    The lady speaks in Welsh

    MORTIMER
    I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh
    Which thou pour'st down from these swelling heavens
    I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
    In such a parley should I answer thee.

    The lady speaks again in Welsh

    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 penn'd,
    Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
    With ravishing division, to her lute.

    GLENDOWER
    Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.

    The lady speaks again in Welsh

    MORTIMER
    O, I am ignorance itself in this!

    GLENDOWER
    She bids you on 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-harness'd team
    Begins his golden progress in the east.

    MORTIMER
    With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing:
    By that time will our book, I think, be drawn

    GLENDOWER
    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.

    HOTSPUR
    Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: come,
    quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap.

    LADY PERCY
    Go, ye giddy goose.

    The music plays

    HOTSPUR
    Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh;
    And 'tis no marvel he is so humorous.
    By'r lady, he is a good musician.

    LADY PERCY
    Then should you be nothing but musical for you are
    altogether governed by humours. Lie still, ye thief,
    and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

    HOTSPUR
    I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish.

    LADY PERCY
    Wouldst thou have thy head broken?

    HOTSPUR
    No.

    LADY PERCY
    Then be still.

    HOTSPUR
    Neither;'tis a woman's fault.

    LADY PERCY
    Now God help thee!

    HOTSPUR
    To the Welsh lady's bed.

    LADY PERCY
    What's that?

    HOTSPUR
    Peace! she sings.

    Here the lady sings a Welsh song

    HOTSPUR
    Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.

    LADY PERCY
    Not mine, in good sooth.

    HOTSPUR
    Not yours, in good sooth! Heart! you swear like a
    comfit-maker's wife. 'Not you, in good sooth,' and
    'as true as I live,' and 'as God shall mend me,' and
    'as sure as day,'
    And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths,
    As if thou never walk'st further than Finsbury.
    Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
    A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,'
    And such protest of pepper-gingerbread,
    To velvet-guards and Sunday-citizens.
    Come, sing.

    LADY PERCY
    I will not sing.

    HOTSPUR
    'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be red-breast
    teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away
    within these two hours; and so, come in when ye will.

    Exit

    GLENDOWER
    Come, come, Lord Mortimer; you are as slow
    As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
    By this our book is drawn; we'll but seal,
    And then to horse immediately.

    MORTIMER
    With all my heart.

    Exeunt
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