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 cranking in,
And cuts me from the best of all my land,
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle3 out.
I'll have the current in this place dammed up;
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run,
In a new channel, fair and evenly.

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.
Glend. I will not have it altered.

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 trained up in the English court;

4

1 A moiety was frequently used by the writers of Shakspeare's age as a portion of any thing, though not divided into equal parts.

2 To crank is to crook, to turn in and out. Crankling is used by Drayton in the same sense: speaking of a river, he says that Meander

"Hath not so many turns and crankling nooks as she."

3 A cantle is a portion, a part, a corner or fragment of any thing. 4 Owen Glendower's real name was Owen ap-Gryffyth Vaughan. He took the name of Glendower from the lordship of which he was the owner.

Where, being but young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty, lovely well,

And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;1
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 canstick2 turned,
Or a dry wheel grate on an axletree;

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,
Nothing so much as mincing poetry.

'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turned.
Hot. I do not care. I'll give thrice so much land
To any well-deserving friend;

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me,

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 in and haste the writer,3 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

father!

[Exit.

how you cross my

Hot. I cannot choose; sometimes he angers me,
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies;
And of a dragon and a finless fish,

1 This disputed passage seems to mean that he gave to the language the helpful ornament of verse. Hotspur's answer shows that he took it in that

sense.

2 A very common contraction of candlestick. The noise to which Hotspur alludes is mentioned in A New Trick to cheat the Devil, 1636:— "As if you were to lodge in Lothbury,

Where they turn brazen candlesticks."

3 i. e. the writer of the articles. The old copy reads, "I'll haste the writer, &c." The two necessary words (in and) were suggested by Steevens.

4 The moldwarp is the mole; Anglo Saxon, molde and weorpan; because it warps or renders the surface of the earth uneven by its hillocks.

A clip-winged griffin, and a moulten raven,
A couching lion, and a ramping cat,

And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what,—
He held me, last night, at least nine hours,
In reckoning up the several devils' names,

That were his lackeys. I cried, Humph,-and Well,—
Go to,-

But marked him not a word. O, he's as tedious
As is a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house.-I had rather live
With cheese and garlic, in a windmill, far,
Than feed on cates, and have him talk to me,
In any summer-house in Christendom.

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Exceedingly well read, and profited

In strange concealments; valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable; and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope,
When you do cross his humor; 'faith, he does.
I warrant you, that man is not alive,
Might so 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 since your coming hither, have done enough To put him quite beside his patience.

You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault.
Though sometimes it show greatness, 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 disdain ;

1 Skilled in wonderful secrets.

2

2 Shakspeare has several compounds in which the first adjective has the power of an adverb. In King Richard III. we meet with childishfoolish, senseless-obstinate, and mortal-staring.

3 i. e. self-opinion or conceit.

The least of which, haunting a nobleman,
Loseth men's hearts, and leaves behind a stain
Upon the beauty of all parts besides,

Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am schooled; 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 conduct1 speedily.

[GLEND. speaks to his daughter in Welsh, and

she answers him in the same.

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish, self-willed harlotry,2

One that no persuasion can do good upon.

[LADY M. speaks to MORTIMER in Welsh.

Mort. I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh Which thou pourest down from these swelling heavens,3 I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,

In such a parley would I answer thee.

[LADY M. speaks.

I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that's a feeling disputation.

But I will never be a truant, love,

Till I have learned thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,

1 Guard, escort.

2 Capulet, in Romeo and Juliet, reproaches his daughter in the same words:

"A peevish, self-willed harlotry it is."

3 Mr. Douce has remarked, that her eyes swollen with tears are meant, whose language he is too perfect in, and could answer with the like if it were not for shame.

Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.1

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad. [LADY M. speaks again. Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this.

Glend. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down,2

And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness;
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing;
By that time will our book,3 I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so;

And those musicians that shall play to you,

Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence;
And straight they shall be here. Sit, 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 Speaks some Welsh words, and then the music plays.

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

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

Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether governed by humors. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.

1 Divisions, which were then uncommon in vocal music, are variations of melody upon some given fundamental harmony.

2 It has been already remarked, that it was long the custom in this country to strew the floors with rushes, as we now cover them with carpets.

3 It was usual to call any manuscript of bulk a book in ancient times. such as patents, grants, articles, covenants.