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CHA P. XIV.
IT, coufin, Percy; fit, good coufin Hotspur; For, by that name, as oft as Lancaster Doth fpeak of you, his cheek looks pale! and with A rifing figh, he wifheth you in heav'n.
Hor. And you in hell, as often as he hears Owen Glendower spoke of.
GLEN. I blame him not at my nativity, The front of heaven was full of fiery fhapes, Of burning creffets: know that, at my birth, The frame and the foundation of the earth Shook like a coward.
HOT. So it would have done
At the fame season if your mother's cat
Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
GLEN. The heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did
Hor. O, then the earth fhook to fee the heav'ns on fire, And not in fear of your nativity.
Difeafed nature oftentimes breaks forth
In ftrange eruptions; and the teeming earth
Is with a kind of colick pinch'd and vex'd,
Our grandam earth, with this diftemperature,
GLEN. Coufin, of many men
I do not bear thefe croffings: give me leave
Where is he living, clipt in with the fea,
That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's fon,
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 Welch.
Hor. Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart,
I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre-ballad mongers!
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree,
GLEN. And I can call fpirits from the vafty deep.
GLEN. Why, I can teach thee to command the devil. HOT. And I can teach thee, coz, to fhame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth and shame the devil.---
If thou haft pow'r to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be fworn, I've pow'r to fhame him hence. Oh, while you live, Tell truth and fhame the devil.
CHA P. XV.
HOTSPUR READING A LETTER.
"BUT for mine own part, my Lord, I could be well
contented to be there, in refpect of the love I bear
your house." He could be contented to be there; why is he not then?" In respect of the love he bears our house!” He fhews in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our houfe. Let me fee fome more. "The purpose you un, dertake is dangerous." Why, that is certain: it is dangerous to take a cold, to fleep, to drink : but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower fafety. "The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the "friends you have named uncertain, the time itfelf unfort"ed, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoife of "fo great an oppofition." Say you fo, fay you fo? I fay unto you again, you are a fhallow cowardly hind, and you He. What a lack-brain is this? By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; our friends true and conftant: a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frofty-fpirited rogue
this is? Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, and the general courfe of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rafcal, I could brain him with his Lady's fan. Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, befides, the Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? and are there not fome of them fet forward already? What a Pagan rascal is this! an infidel. Ha! you fhall fee now, in very fincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving fuch a difh of skimmed milk with fo honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will fet forward to-night.
CHA P. VIII.
HENRY IV's SOLILOQUY ON SI.EEP.
How many thousands of my pooreft fubjects
Are at this hour afleep! O gentle Sleep, Nature's foft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eye-lids down,
Why rather, Sleep, lay'ft thou in fmoaky cribs,
And hufh'd with buzzing night-flies to thy flumber;
B b 4
A watch-cafe to a common larum-bell?
And in the vifitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monftrous heads, and hanging them
CHA P. XVII.
HENRY IV. AND PRINCE HENRY.
P. HENRY. I NEVER thought to hear you speak again. K. HENRY. Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought.
I ftay too long by thee, I weary thee.
That thou wilt needs inveft thee with my honours,
Thou feek'ft the greatness that will overwhelm thee.
Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity
Is held from falling with so weak a wind,
That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.