A couching lion, and a ramping cat,

And fuch a deal of skimble-skamble stuff

As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,-
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours,

In reckoning up the feveral devils' names,

That were his lackeys: I cried, humph,-and well,-go to,

But mark'd him not a word. O, he's as tedious

As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worfe than a smoky house:—I had rather live
With cheese and garlick, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any fummerhouse in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wond'rous affable; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, coufin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humour; 'faith, he does :
I warrant you, that man is not alive,

Might fo have tempted him as you have done,
Without the taste of danger and reproof;

But do not use it oft, let me entreat you.

Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame;
And fince your coming hither, have done enough
To put him quite beside his patience.

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault:
Though fometimes it show greatnefs, 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 difdain :

The

'The least of which, haunting a nobleman,

Lofeth men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts befides,

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 foldier too, fhe'll to the wars.

Mort. Good father, tell her,—that she, and my aunt
Percy,

Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

[GLENDOWER fpeaks to his daughter in Welch, and fbe anfwers him in the fame.

Glend. She's defperate here; a peevish felf-will'd harlotry,

One no perfuafion can do good upon.

[Lady M. fpeaks to MORTIMER in Welsh.

Mort. I understand thy looks: that pretty Welsh Which thou poureft down from these swelling heavens,

I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,

In fuch a parley would I answer thee. [Lady M. Speaks. I understand thy kiffes, and thou mine,

And that's a feeling disputation :

But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welth as fweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a fummer's bower,
With ravishing divifion, to her lute.

Glend.

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

[Lady M. fpeaks again.

Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.

Glend. She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down,
And reft your gentle head upon her lap,
And the will fing the fong that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleafing heaviness ;
Making fuch 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.

Mort. With all my heart I'll fit, and hear her fing:
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do fo;

And those musicians that shall play to you,

Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence ;
Yet ftraight they fhall be here: fit, and attend.

Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down, Come, quick, quick; that I may lay my head in thy lap. Lady. P. Go, ye giddy goose.

[GLENDOWER fpeaks fome Welth words, and then the mufick plays.

Hot. Now I perceive, the devil understands Welsh; And 'tis no marvel, he's fo humorous.

By'r-lady, he's a good musician.

Lady. P. Then should you be nothing but mufical; for you are altogether govern'd by humours. Lie still, ye

thief, and hear the lady fing in Welsh.

Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. Lady. P. Would'st thou have thy head broken?

Hot. No.

Lady. P. Then be still.

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fault.
Lady. P. Now God help thee!
Hot. To the Welch lady's bed.
Lady. P. What's that?

Hot. Peace! the fings.

A Welth SONG fung by Lady M.

Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too.
Lady. P. Not mine, in good footh.

Hot. Not yours, in good footh! 'Heart, you swear like a comfit-maker's wife! Not you, in good footh; and, As true as I live; and, As God fhall mend me; and, As fure as day :

And giv❜ft fuch farcenet furety for thy oaths,

As if thou never walk'dft further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in footh,
And fuch proteft of pepper-gingerbread,
To velvet-guards, and funday citizens.
Come, fing,

Lady. P. I will not fing.

Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreaft teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and fo come in when ye will. [Exit. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as flow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.

By this our book's drawn; we'll but feal, and then
To horse immediately.

Mort.

With all

my heart.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE II.

London. A room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY, Prince of Wales, and Lords.

K. Hen. Lords, give us leave; the prince of Wales

and I,

Must have some conference: But be near at hand,

For we shall presently have need of you.

[Exeunt Lords.

I know not whether God will have it so,
For fome difpleafing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;
But thou doft, in thy paffages of life,

Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,
To punish my mittreadings. Tell me else,
Could fuch inordinate, and low defires,

Such poor,

fuch bare, fuch lewd, fuch mean attempts, Such barren pleasures, rude fociety,

As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatness of thy blood,

And hold their level with thy princely heart?

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could
Quit all offences with as clear excufe,

As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet fuch extenuation let me beg,
As, in reproof of many tales devis'd,—

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,-
By smiling pick-thanks and base newsmongers,
I may, for fome things true, wherein my youth

Hath