He held me last night, at least, nine houres,
In reckning vp the feuerall diuels names.

That were his lackies: I cried hum, and well, go to,

But markt him not a word; O, he is as tedious

As a tyred horse, a rayling wife,

Worfe then a fmokie houfe. I had rather liue
With cheese and garlicke in a windmill farre,
Then feed on cates, and haue him talke to me,
In any fummer-houfe in Christendome.

*

Mor. In fayth he was a worthy gentleman,
Exceeding well read and profited

In ftrange concealements, valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable, and as bountifull
As mines of India: fhall I tell you, coofen,
He holdes your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himfelfe, euen of his naturall scope,
When you come croffe his humour, fayth he does :
I warrant you, that man is not aliue.

Might fo haue tempted him, as you haue done,
Without the tafte of danger and reproofe:

But doe not vse it oft, let me intreat you.

Wor. In fayth, my lord, you are too wilfull blame,
And fince your comming hither, haue done enough
To put him quite befides his patience:

You must needes learne, lord, to amend this fault,
Though fometimes it fhew greatneffe, courage, blood,
And thats the deareft grace it renders you :
Yet often times it doth prefent harsh rage,
Defect of manners, want of gouernment,
Pride, hautineffe, opinion, and difdaine;
The leaft of which, haunting a nobleman,
Lofeth mens heartes, and leaues behind a staine

1

Vpon the beautie of all partes befides,

Beguiling them of commendation.

Hot. Well, I am schoold, good-manners be your speed, Heere come your wiues, and let vs take our leaue.

Enter Glendower, with the ladyes.

Mor. This is the deadly fpight that angers me,

My wife can fpeake no English, I no Web.

Glen. My daughter weepes, fheele not part with you, Sheele be a fouldier too, fheele to the warres.

Mor. Good father tell her, that fhe, and my aunt Percy, Shall follow in your conduct speedily.

Glendower fpeakes to her in Welsh, and fhe anfaveres him in the fame.

Glen. She is defperat heere,

A peeuifh felfe-wild harlotry, one that no perfwafion can doe good vpon.

The lady fpeakes in Welsh.

Mor. I vnderstand thy lookes, that prety Welfb, Which thou powreft downe from these fwelling heauens,

*

I am to perfect in, and but for fhame

In fuch a parley fhould I anfwere thee.

The lady againe in Welsh.

Mor. I vnderstand thy kiffes, and thou mine,

And thats a feeling difputation:

But I will neuer be a truant loue,

Till I haue learnd thy language, for thy tongue

Makes Welb as fweet as ditties highly pend,

too.

Sung

Sung by a faire queene in a fummers bowre,
With rauishing diuifion to her lute.

Glen. Nay, if thou melt, then will she runne mad.

The lady fpeakes againe in Welsh.

Mor. O, I am ingnorance it felfe in this.

Glen. She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you downe,

And reft your gentle head vpon her lap,

And fhe will fing the fong that pleaseth you,
And on your eyelids crowne the god of sleepe,
Charming your bloud with pleafing heauineffe
Making fuch difference betwixt wake and sleepe,
As is the difference betwixt day and night,
The houre before the heauenly harnett teeme
Begins his golden progreffe in the caft.

Mor. With all my heart Ile fit and heare her fing,

By that time will our booke I thinke be drawne.

Glen. Do fo, and thofe mufitions that fhall play to you, Hang in the ayre a thoufand leagues from thence *,

And straight they fhall be here, fit and attend.

Hot. Come Kate, thou art perfect in lying downe :

Come, quicke, quicke, that I may lay my head in thy lap. La. Go, ye giddy goose.

The muficke playes.

Hot. Now I perceiue the diuell vnderstands Welshb,

And t'is no maruell he is fo humorous,

Birlady he is a good musition.

La. Then would you be nothing but musicall,

For you are altogether gouerned † by humors:

Lie ftill ye thiefe, and heare the lady fing in Welb.

Hot. I had rather heare Lady, my brach howle in Irish.

La. Would't hate ‡ thy head broken?

bence. † governed omitted.

Ff3

Ithou have.

Hot.

Hot. No.

La. Then be ftill.

Hot. Neither, t'is a womans fault.

La. Now God helpe thee.

Hot. To the Welfb ladies bed.

La. What's that?

Hot. Peace, fhe fings.

Here the lady fings a Welth fong.

Hot. Come, Ile haue your fong too.

La. Not mine in good footh.

Hot. Not yours in good footh? hart you fweare like a comfitmakers wife, not you in good footh, and as true as I liue, and as God fhall mend ine, and as fure as day: And giucft fuch farcenet furety for thy othes, As if thou neuer walkft further then Finsburie: Sweare me Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leaue in footh, And fuch protest of pepper ginger-bread,

To veluet gards, and funday-citizens.

Come, fing.

La. I will not fing.

Hot. Tis the next way to turne tayler, or be red-brest teacher; and the indentures be drawne, Ile away within thefe 2. houres, and fo come in when ye will.

Exit.

Glen. Come, come, lord Mortimer, you are flow,

As hot lord Percy is on fire to go.

By this our booke is drawne, weele but feale,

And then to horse immediatly.

Mor. With all my heart,

Exeunt.

Enter the king, prince of Wales, and other.

King. Lords, giue vs leaue, the prince of Wales and I, Muft haue fome priuate conference, but be neere at hand,

For

For we shall presently hauc need of you.
I know not whether God will haue it fo,
For fome difpleafing feruice I haue done,
That in his fecret doome, out of my blood,
Hee'le breed reuengement and a fcourge for me:
But thou doft in the paffages of life,

Make me beleeue, that thou art onely mark'd
For the hot vengeance, and the rod of heauen,
To punish my miftreadinges. Tell me elfe
Could fuch inordinate and low defires,

Exeunt lords.

Such poore, fuch bare, fuch lewd, fuch meane attempts,
Such barren pleasures, rude focietie,

As thou art matcht withall, and grafted to,
Accompany the greatnes of thy blood,

And hold their leuell with thy princely heart?
Prin. So pleafe your maieftie, I would I could
Quit all offences with as cleare excuse,
As well as I am doubtleffe I can purge
My felfe of many I am charg'd withall:
Yet fuch extenuation let me beg,

As in reproofe of many tales deuifde,

Which oft the eare of greatnes needes must heare
By fmiling pick-thankes, and bafe newes-mongers,
I may for fome things true, wherein my youth
Hath faulty wandred, and irregular

Finde pardon on my true fubmiffion.

King. God pardon thee; yet let me wonder, Harry,
At thy affections, which doe hold a wing

Quite from the flight of all thy auncestors:
Thy place in counsell thou haft rudely lost,
Which by thy younger brother is fupplide;
And art almost an alien to the heartes

Of all the court and princes of my bloud,
The hope and expectation of thy time,