For there will be a world of water shed, Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here, See, how this river comes me cranking in, 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 the 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 straight and even. Hot. I'll have it so: a little charge will do it. 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. 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 same metre ballad-mongers: I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag. Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. I do not care. I'll give thrice so much land to any well-deserving friend; 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 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. A clip-wing'd griffin, and a moulten raven, In reckoning up the several devils' names, [Exit. That were his lackeys: I cried, "humph," and "well, go to," But mark'd him not a word. O! he's as tedious As a tired horse, a railing wife; Worse than a smoky house: I had rather live Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; In strange concealments; valiant as a lion And wondrous affable, and as bountiful Might so have tempted him as you have done, But do not use it oft, let me entreat you. Wor. 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: Beguiling them of commendation. Hot. 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. Mort. This is the deadly spite that angers me, My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh. Glend. My daughter weeps: she will not part with you, She 'll be a soldier too; she 'll to the wars. Mort. 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. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry, one That no persuasion can do good upon. [She speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh. Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens, I am too perfect in; and, but for shame, In such a parley would I answer thee. I understand thy kisses, and thou mine, But I will never be a truant, love, Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue [She speaks again. Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. Mort. O! I am ignorance itself in this. [She speaks again. Glend. 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, Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing: And those musicians that shall play to you, Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence; Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down: [The Music Plays. Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands Welsh; Lady P. 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. Hot. I had rather hear, lady, my brach, howl in Irish. Hot. No. Lady P. Then be still. Hot. Neither; 't is a woman's fault. Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. Hot. Peace! she sings. [A Welsh Song by Lady M. Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. Hot. 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 giv'st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths, As if thou never walk'dst farther than Finsbury. To velvet-guards, and Sunday-citizens. Come, sing. Lady P. I will not sing. Hot. '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. Glend. 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. [Exit. Mort. With all my heart. [Exeunt. |