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 his daughter in Welsh, and she answers him in the same. Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish self-will'd harlotry, One 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 hea vens, 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, But I will never be a truant, love, Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue 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 *Guard, escorte. A compliment to queen Elizabeth. Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear her sing: By that time will our book*, I think, be drawn. And those musicians that shall play to you, 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 musick 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 humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my bracht, 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! * Our paper of conditions. + Hound. Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. Lady P. What's that? Hot. Peace! she sings. A Welsh SONG sung by Lady M. Hot. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. 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, A good mouth-filling oath; and leave in sooth, To velvet-guards†, and Sunday-citizens. Lady P. I will not sing. Hot. 'Tis the next way to turn tajlor, or be redbreast teacher. An the indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will. [Exit. Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you are as slow, As hot lord Percy is on fire to go. By this our book's drawn: we'll but seal, and then To horse immediately. Mort. In Moorfields. With all my heart. [Exeunt. + Laced velvet, the finery of cockneys. 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, Make me believe,-that thou art only mark'd Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean at tempts*, Such barren pleasures, rude society, As thou art match'd withal, and grafted to, P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would, I could Quit all offences with as clear excuse, As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,- Unworthy undertakings. + Officious parasites. Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, Find pardon on my true submission. K. Hen. God pardon thee!-yet let me wonder, Harry, At thy affections, which do hold a wing That men would tell their children, This is he: And dress'd myself in such humility, That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state, True to him that had then possession of the crown. + Brushwood. |