Chapter: Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.


Enter Hotspurre, Worcester, Lord Mortimer, Owen Glendower.

  Mort. These promises are faire, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope

   Hotsp. Lord Mortimer, and Cousin Glendower,
Will you sit downe?
And Vnckle Worcester; a plague vpon it,
I haue forgot the Mappe

   Glend. No, here it is:
Sit Cousin Percy, sit good Cousin Hotspurre:
For by that Name, as oft as Lancaster doth speake of you,
His Cheekes looke pale, and with a rising sigh,
He wisheth you in Heauen

   Hotsp. And you in Hell, as oft as he heares Owen Glendower
spoke of

   Glend. I cannot blame him: At my Natiuitie,
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
Of burning Cressets: and at my Birth,
The frame and foundation of the Earth
Shak'd like a Coward

   Hotsp. Why so it would haue done at the same season,
if your Mothers Cat had but kitten'd, though your selfe
had neuer beene borne

   Glend. I say the Earth did shake when I was borne

   Hotsp. And I say the Earth was not of my minde,
If you suppose, as fearing you, it shooke

   Glend. The heauens were all on fire, the Earth did
tremble

   Hotsp. Oh, then the Earth shooke
To see the Heauens on fire,
And not in feare of your Natiuitie.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breakes forth
In strange eruptions; and the teeming Earth
Is with a kinde of Collick pincht and vext,
By the imprisoning of vnruly Winde
Within her Wombe: which for enlargement striuing,
Shakes the old Beldame Earth, and tombles downe
Steeples, and mosse-growne Towers. At your Birth,
Our Grandam Earth, hauing this distemperature,
In passion shooke

   Glend. Cousin: of many men
I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments

   Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
Ile to Dinner

   Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad

   Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe

   Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:
But will they come, when you doe call for them?
  Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
Deuill

   Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
If thou haue power to rayse him, bring him hither,
And Ile be sworne, I haue power to shame him hence.
Oh, while you liue, tell truth, and shame the Deuill

   Mort. Come, come, no more of this vnprofitable
Chat

   Glend. Three times hath Henry Bullingbrooke made head
Against my Power: thrice from the Banks of Wye,
And sandy-bottom'd Seuerne, haue I hent him
Bootlesse home, and Weather-beaten backe

   Hotsp. Home without Bootes,
And in foule Weather too,
How scapes he Agues in the Deuils name?
  Glend. Come, heere's the Mappe:
Shall wee diuide our Right,
According to our three-fold order ta'ne?
  Mort. The Arch-Deacon hath diuided it
Into three Limits, very equally:
England, from Trent, and Seuerne. hitherto,
By South and East, is to my part assign'd:
All Westward, Wales, beyond the Seuerne shore,
And all the fertile Land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower: And deare Couze, to you
The remnant Northward, lying off from Trent.
And our Indentures Tripartite are drawne:
Which being sealed enterchangeably,
(A Businesse that this Night may execute)
To morrow, Cousin Percy, you and I,
And my good Lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meete your Father, and the Scottish Power,
As is appointed vs at Shrewsbury.
My Father Glendower is not readie yet,
Nor shall wee neede his helpe these foureteene dayes:
Within that space, you may haue drawne 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 steale, and take no leaue,
For there will be a World of Water shed,
Vpon the parting of your Wiues and you

   Hotsp. Me thinks my Moity, North from Burton here,
In quantitie equals not one of yours:
See, how this Riuer comes me cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my Land,
A huge halfe Moone, a monstrous Cantle out.
Ile haue the Currant in this place damn'd vp,
And here the smug and Siluer Trent shall runne,
In a new Channell, faire and euenly:
It shall not winde with such a deepe indent,
To rob me of so rich a Bottome here

   Glend. Not winde? it shall, it must, you see it doth

   Mort. Yea, but marke how he beares his course,
And runnes me vp, with like aduantage on the other side,
Gelding the opposed Continent as much,
As on the other side it takes from you

   Worc. Yea, but a little Charge will trench him here,
And on this North side winne this Cape of Land,
And then he runnes straight and euen

   Hotsp. Ile haue it so, a little Charge will doe it

   Glend. Ile not haue it alter'd

   Hotsp. Will not you?
  Glend. No, nor you shall not

   Hotsp. Who shall say me nay?
  Glend. Why, that will I

   Hotsp. let me not vnderstand you then, speake it in
Welsh

   Glend. I can speake English, Lord, as well as you:
For I was trayn'd vp in the English Court;
Where, being but young, I framed to the Harpe
Many an English Dittie, louely well,
And gaue the Tongue a helpefull Ornament;
A Vertue that was neuer seene in you

   Hotsp. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a Kitten, and cry mew,
Then one of these same Meeter Ballad-mongers:
I had rather heare a Brazen Candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry Wheele grate on the Axle-tree,
And that would set my teeth nothing an edge,
Nothing so much, as mincing Poetrie;
'Tis like the forc't gate of a shuffling Nagge

   Glend. Come, you shall haue Trent turn'd

   Hotsp. I doe not care: Ile giue thrice so much Land
To any well-deseruing friend;
But in the way of Bargaine, marke ye me,
Ile cauill on the ninth part of a hayre.
Are the Indentures drawne? shall we be gone?
  Glend. The Moone shines faire,
You may away by Night:
Ile haste the Writer; and withall,
Breake with your Wiues, of your departure hence:
I am afraid my Daughter will runne madde,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Enter.

  Mort. Fie, Cousin Percy, how you crosse my Father

   Hotsp. I cannot chuse: sometime he angers me,
With telling me of the Moldwarpe and the Ant,
Of the Dreamer Merlin, and his Prophecies;
And of a Dragon, and a finne-lesse Fish,
A clip-wing'd Griffin, and a moulten Rauen,
A couching Lyon, and a ramping Cat,
And such a deale of skimble-skamble Stuffe,
As puts me from my Faith. I tell you what,
He held me last Night, at least, nine howres,
In reckning vp the seuerall Deuils Names,
That were his Lacqueyes:
I cry'd hum, and well, goe too,
But mark'd him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tyred Horse, a rayling Wife,
Worse then a smoakie House. I had rather liue
With Cheese and Garlick in a Windmill farre,
Then feede on Cates, and haue him talke to me,
In any Summer-House in Christendome

   Mort. In faith he was a worthy Gentleman,
Exceeding well read, and profited,
In strange Concealements:
Valiant as a Lyon, and wondrous affable,
And as Bountifull, as Mynes of India.
Shall I tell you, Cousin,
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbes himselfe, euen of his naturall scope,
When you doe crosse his humor: 'faith he does.
I warrant you, that man is not aliue,
Might so haue tempted him, as you haue done,
Without the taste of danger, and reproofe:
But doe not vse it oft, let me entreat you

   Worc. In faith, my Lord, you are too wilfull blame,
And since your comming hither, haue done enough,
To put him quite besides his patience.
You must needes learne, Lord, to amend this fault:
Though sometimes it shew Greatnesse, Courage, Blood,
And that's the dearest grace it renders you;
Yet oftentimes it doth present harsh Rage,
Defect of Manners, want of Gouernment,
Pride, Haughtinesse, Opinion, and Disdaine:
The least of which, haunting a Nobleman,
Loseth mens hearts, and leaues behinde a stayne
Vpon the beautie of all parts besides,
Beguiling them of commendation

   Hotsp. Well, I am school'd:
Good-manners be your speede;
Heere come your Wiues, and let vs take our leaue.
Enter Glendower, with the Ladies.

  Mort. This is the deadly spight, that angers me,
My Wife can speake no English, I no Welsh

   Glend. My Daughter weepes, shee'le not part with you,
Shee'le be a Souldier too, shee'le to the Warres

   Mort. Good Father tell her, that she and my Aunt Percy
Shall follow in your Conduct speedily.

Glendower speakes to her in Welsh, and she answeres him in the
same.

  Glend. Shee is desperate heere:
A peeuish selfe-will'd Harlotry,
One that no perswasion can doe good vpon.

The Lady speakes in Welsh.

  Mort. I vnderstand thy Lookes: that pretty Welsh
Which thou powr'st down from these swelling Heauens,
I am too perfect in: and but for shame,
In such a parley should I answere thee.

The Lady againe in welsh.

  Mort. I vnderstand thy Kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will neuer be a Truant, Loue,
Till I haue learn'd thy Language: for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as Ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a faire Queene in a Summers Bowre,
With rauishing Diuision to her Lute

   Glend. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne madde.

The Lady speakes againe in Welsh.

  Mort. O, I am Ignorance it selfe in this

   Glend. She bids you,
On the wanton Rushes lay you downe,
And rest your gentle Head vpon her Lappe,
And she will sing the Song that pleaseth you,
And on your Eye-lids Crowne the God of Sleepe,
Charming your blood with pleasing heauinesse;
Making such difference betwixt Wake and Sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt Day and Night,
The houre before the Heauenly Harneis'd Teeme
Begins his Golden Progresse in the East

   Mort. With all my heart Ile sit, and heare her sing:
By that time will our Booke, I thinke, be drawne

   Glend. Doe so:
And those Musitians that shall play to you,
Hang in the Ayre a thousand Leagues from thence;
And straight they shall be here: sit, and attend

   Hotsp. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe:
Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my Head in thy
Lappe

   Lady. Goe, ye giddy-Goose.

The Musicke playes.

  Hotsp. Now I perceiue the Deuill vnderstands Welsh,
And 'tis no maruell he is so humorous:
Byrlady hee's a good Musitian

   Lady. Then would you be nothing but Musicall,
For you are altogether gouerned by humors:
Lye still ye Theefe, and heare the Lady sing in Welsh

   Hotsp. I had rather heare (Lady) my Brach howle in
Irish

   Lady. Would'st haue thy Head broken?
  Hotsp. No

   Lady. Then be still

   Hotsp. Neyther, 'tis a Womans fault

   Lady. Now God helpe thee

   Hotsp. To the Welsh Ladies Bed

   Lady. What's that?
  Hotsp. Peace, shee sings.

Heere the Lady sings a Welsh Song.

  Hotsp. Come, Ile haue your Song too

   Lady. Not mine, in good sooth

   Hotsp. Not yours, in good sooth?
You sweare like a Comfit-makers Wife:
Not you, in good sooth; and, as true as I liue;
And, as God shall mend me; and, as sure as day:
And giuest such Sarcenet suretie for thy Oathes,
As if thou neuer walk'st further then Finsbury.
Sweare me, Kate, like a Lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling Oath: and leaue in sooth,
And such protest of Pepper Ginger-bread,
To Veluet-Guards, and Sunday-Citizens.
Come, sing

   Lady. I will not sing

   Hotsp. 'Tis the next way to turne Taylor, or be Redbrest
teacher: and the Indentures be drawne, Ile away
within these two howres: and so come in, when yee
will.
Enter.

  Glend. Come, come, Lord Mortimer, you are as slow,
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to goe.
By this our Booke is drawne: wee'le but seale,
And then to Horse immediately

   Mort. With all my heart.

Exeunt.

 Hotspur, Worcester, Glendower, and Mortimer meet in Wales to finalize their plans. When Glendower remarks that the king fears him because his birth was attended by strange signs in the heavens, Hotspur, who does not believe in magic or omens, mocks him, and the two have a brief argument. Mortimer stops them and proceeds to show them a map of England with the intended division of the land after Henry is deposed. Hotspur is not satisfied with his share and further baits Glendower, who, not wanting to argue further, agrees to a minor change. Glendower, their host, exits to fetch Mortimer's and Hotspur's wives, so that the couples may say their farewells. When he is gone, Mortimer chides Hotspur for his rudeness to his father-in- law and Hotspur replies that he is sick of hearing Glendower's constant talk of magic. Mortimer defends Glendower's wisdom and bravery and warns Hotspur that he is not a man to be casually crossed. Worcester tells his nephew to control his temper and watch his manners, for although he is brave, his lack of control makes him look ill bred. Glendower returns with Lady Percy and Lady Mortimer. Lady Mortimer knows no English, and Mortimer knows no Welsh, but with Glendower acting as an interpreter, the couple express their love and longing for each other. Lady Mortimer then sings a song in Welsh. Hotspur mocks her singing to his wife and two spar playfully before he leaves to attend to business. Glendower then tells Mortimer to hurry and they, too, exit.

