ACT III. SCENE I.

Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's House.

Enter HOTSPUR, WORCESTER, MORTIMER, and GLENDOWER.

Mor. These promises are fair, the parties sure, And our induction full of prosperous hope.

Hot. Lord Mortimer,-and cousin Glendower,Will you sit down?

And, uncle Worcester :-A plague upon it!
I have forgot the map.

Glend.

No, here it is.

Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur:

For by that name as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale; and, with

A rising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven.

Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears

Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glend. I cannot blame him 56: at my nativity, The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,

Of burning cressets; and, at my birth,

The frame and the foundation of the earth
Shak'd like a coward.

Hot.

Why, so it would have done

At the same season, if your mother's cat had

But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.

Glend. I say, the earth did shake when I was born. 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 57; oft the teeming earth
Is with a kind of cholick pinch'd and vex'd
By the imprisoning of unruly wind

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.

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 common men.
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,

Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think, there is no man speaks better Welsh:

I will to dinner.

Mort. Peace, cousin Percy: you will make him mad.

Glend. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
Hot. Why, so can I; or so can any man:

But will they come, when you do call for them? Glend. Why, I can teach you, cousin, to command

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 right,

According to our threefold order ta'en?

Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
Into three limits, very equally :

England, from Trent and Severn hitherto,
By south and east, is to my part assign'd:
All westward, Wales beyond the Severn shore,
And all the fertile land within that bound,
To Owen Glendower:-and, dear coz, to you
The remnant northward, lying off from Trent.
And our indentures tripartite are drawn;
Which being sealed interchangeably,
(A business that this night may execute,)
To-morrow, cousin Percy, you, and I,
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth,
To meet your father, and the Scottish power,
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury.

My father Glendower is not ready yet,

Nor shall we need his help these fourteen days:Within that space, [To GLEND.] you may have drawn

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 cantle 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.

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.