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 cantleb 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 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 alter'd.
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;
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.

Hor. Marry, and I'm glad of 't 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 canstickd turn'd,

Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree;

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge,

Nothing so much as mincing poetry;

"T is like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.

• Cranking-bending.

Cantle-a corner, according to some etymologists; a portion, or parcel, according to others. • The tongue-the English language, according to Johnson.

Canstick. So the quartos. Canstick is not an uncommon word in the old poets; but the folio has candlestick.

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 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 haste the writera 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!
HOT. I cannot choose: sometime 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 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, hum,-and well,-go to,-
But mark'd 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 humour; '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

[Exit.

I'll haste the writer. So all the old copies. The modern editors read "I'll in and haste the writer."

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 :
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 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 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,
I am too perfect in; and, but for shame,
In such a parley should I answer thee.

I understand thy kisses, 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 Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower,
With ravishing division, to her lute.

GLEND. Nay, if thou melt, then will she run mad.
MORT. O, I am ignorance itself in this.

[Lady M. speaks.

[Lady M. speaks again.

GLEND. She bids you on the wanton rushes 22 lay you down,

And rest your gentle head upon her lap,

• That no persuasion. All the old copies retain that, but they print the passage as prose.

b

All the old copies gives this as one line. Steevens reads

"She bids you

Upon the wanton rushes lay you down."

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 betwixt 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 sit and hear her sing:
By that time will our book 23, 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 't is no marvel, he 's so humorous.

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

LADY P. Then would 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.

LADY P. Wouldst have thy head broken?

HOT. No.

LADY P. Then be still.

HOT. Neither; 't is a woman's fault.

LADY P. Now God help thee!

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.

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 further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady, as thou art,

A good mouth-filling oath and leave in sooth,

HISTORIES.-VOL. I.

T

To velvet-guards 24, and Sunday-citizens.

And such protest of pepper-gingerbread",

Come, sing.

LADY P. I will not sing.

Hor. 'T is the next way to turn tailor, or be red breast teacher 25. indentures be drawn, I'll away within these two hours; and so

An the

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 is drawn; we will but seal,

And then to horse immediately.

MORT.

With all my heart.

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 private conference: But be near at hand,
For we shall presently have need of you.—

I know not whether God will have it so,

For some displeasing service I have done,
That, in his secret doom, out of my blood

He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me;

But thou dost, in thy passages of life,

Make me believe, that thou art only mark'd
For the hot vengeance and the rod of heaven,

To punish my mis-treadings. Tell me else,

Could such inordinate and low desires,

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude society,

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 excuse,
As well as, I am doubtless, I can purge
Myself of many I am charg'd withal:
Yet such extenuation let me beg,

As in reproof of many tales devis'd,

Which oft the ear of greatness needs must hear,

Pepper-gingerbread-spice-gingerbread.

• Private conference. So all the old copies. Steevens omits private.

Reproof-disproof.

[Exeunt.

[Exeunt Lords.