« PreviousContinue »
P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath : Search his pockets. [Poins searches.] What hast thou found?
Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord.
Poins. Item, A capon, 2 s. 2 d.
P. Hen. O monstrous ! but one halfpenny-worth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack !-What there is else, keep close; we'll read it at more advantage: there let him sleep till day. I'll to the court in the morning : we must all to the wars, and thy place shall be honourable. I'll procure this fat rogue a charge of foot; and, I know, his death will be a march of twelve-score. The money shall be paid back again with advantage. Be with me betimes in the morning; and so good morrow, Poins.
Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. Exeunt.
SCENE I.-Bangor. A Room in the Archdeacon's
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, MORTIMER, and GLEN
Hot. Lord Mortimer,—and cousin Glendower,
Glend. No, here it is.
Hot. And you in hell, as often as he hears
Glend. I cannot blame him : at my nativity,
Hot. Why, so it would have done
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: oft the teeming earth Is with a kind of colick 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.
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 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,
And 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. 0, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.
Mort. Come, come,
Hot. Home without boots, and in foul weather too!
Mort. The archdeacon hath divided it
To Owen Glendower :-and, dear coz, to you
Glend. A shorter time shall send me to you, lords,
Hot. Methinks, my moiety, north from Burton here,
Glend. Not wind ? it shall, it must; you see, it doth,