And, uncle Worcester-A plague upon it! Glend. No, here it is; Sit, coufin Percy, fit, good coufin Hot Spur: Doth fpeak of you, his cheek looks pale; and with Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of. Glend. I blame him not: at my nativity, 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. 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 Within her womb; which, for enlargement ftriving, In paffion fhock. Glend. Coufin, of many men I do not bear thefe croffings: give me leave 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 England, from Trent, and Severn hitherto, And And my good Lard of Worcester, will set forth, My father Glendower is not ready yet, Nor fhall we need his help thefe fourteen days: From whom you now muft fteal and take no leave ; Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here, In quantity equals not one of yours: See, how this river comes me crankling in,. It fhall not wind with such a deep indent, 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. 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 Hot. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart, Than one of these fame meeter-ballad-mongers; 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; A clipt-wing griffin, and a moulting raven; In In any fummer-house in chriftendom. In ftrange concealments; valiant as a lion ; Might fo have tempted him as you have done, 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; 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 |