be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot, and, I know, his death will be a march of twelvefcore. The mony fhall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and fo good morrow, Peto.

Peto. Good morrow, good my lord.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I:

The Archdeacon of Bangor's House in Wales.

Enter Hot-fpur, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, and

T

5

Owen Glendower.

MORTIMER.

HESE promifes are fair, the parties fure, And our Induction full of profp'rous hope. Hot. Lord Mortimer, and coufin Glendower, Will you fit down?

And, uncle Worcester

I have forgot the map.

Glend. No, here it is.

-a plague upon it!"

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

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale; and with
A rifing figh, he wifheth 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,

4

I know, his death will be a march of twelvese›re.] i. e. It will kill him to march fo far

as twelvefcore yards.

5 -induction] That is, entrance; beginning.

The

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 your felf 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.

Hot. O, then the earth fhook to fee 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 colick pinch'd and vext,
By the imprisoning of unruly wind

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

Glend. Coufin, of many men

I do not bear these 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 ftrangely clam'rous in the frighted fields.
Thefe figns have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do fhew,
I am not in the roll of common men.
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?

Difeofed Nature] The poet has here taken, from the perverfenefs and contrarioufnefs of Hotfur's temper, an oppor

tunity of raifing his character, by a very rational and philofophical confutation of fuperftitious errour.

And

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, cousin Percy; you will make him mad. Glend. I can call Spirits 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 shame the devil,
By telling truth; Tell truth and fame the devil.-
If thou haft pow'r to raise him, bring him hither,
And I'll be fworn, I've pow'r to shame him hence.
Oh, while you live, tell truth, and fhame 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 sent

Him bootless home, and weather-beaten back.

Hot. Home, without boots, and in foul weather too! How 'scapes 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. 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

To morrow, coufin Percy, you and I,
And my good lord of Wor'fter, 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 these fourteen days.
-Within that space, you may have drawn together
Your tenants, friends, and neighbouring gentlemen.
[To Glendower.
Glend. A fhorter time fhall fend me to you, lords,
And in my conduct fhall 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 crankling 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 fmug and filver Trent shall run
In a new channel, fair and evenly;

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

Glend. Not wind? it fhall, it muft; 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 ftraight and even.

7 Methinks, my moiety,] Hotspur is here juft fuch a divider as the Irishman who made three halves: Therefore, for the

honour of Shakespeare, I will fuppofe, with the Oxford Editor, that he wrote portion. WARB.

I will not fuppofe it.

Hot.

Hot. I'll have it fe, 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 Welb.

Glend. I can fpeak English, lord, as well as you, For I was train'd up in the English Court, 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 feen 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 fo 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;

8 (I'll hate 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.

The tongue.] The English language.

[Exit.