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Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my mind, If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the earth
did tremble. Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the heavens
on fire, And not in fear of your nativity. Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions: oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd By the imprisoning of unruly wiud Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving, Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples* down Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your birth, Our grandam earth, having this distemperature, In passion shook. Glend.
Cousin, of many men I do not bear these crossings. Give me leave To tell you once again,- that at my birth, The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes; The goats ran, from the mountains, and the herds Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields. These signs have mark'd me extraordinary; And all the courses of my life do show, I am not in the roll of commov inen. Where is he living,-clipp'd in with the sea That chides the banks of England, Scotland, Wales, Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? And bring him out, that is but woman's son, Can trace me in the tedious ways of art, And hold me pace in deep experiments. Hot. I think, there is no man speaks better
Hot. Why, so can l; or so can any man: But will they come, when you do call for them ? Glend. Why, I can teach you, consin, to com
mand The devil.
Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil. If thou have power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn, I have power to shame him hence. O, 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 power: thrice from the banks of Wye, And sandy-bottom'd Severn, have I sent him, Bootless* home, and weather-beaten back. Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather
too! How 'scapes he agues, in the devil's name? Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we divide our
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
+ Three copies.
My father Glendower is not ready yet,
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 steal, and take no leave; 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 cantlet out. I'll have the current in this place damm'd 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 i the opposed continent as much, As on the other side it takes from you. Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench him
Hot. I'll have it so; a little charge will do it.
Will not you?
Who shall say me nay? Glend. Why, that will I.
Let me not understand you then, Speak it in Welsh.
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, Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry; 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.
Glend. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd.
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 ine, 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 writert, 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. (Exit. Mort. Fy, cousin Percy! how you cross my fa.
ther! 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, A clip-wing'd griffiu, and a moulten raven, A couching lion, and a ramping cat,
+ The writer of the articles.
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman;
Wor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame;