In strange concealments, valiant as a lion,
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 165
He holds your temper in a high respect,
And curbs himself even of his natural scope
When you come ’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.
WORCESTER (to Hotspur)
In faith, my lord, you are too wilful-blame,
And since your coming hither have done enough
To put him quite besides 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. 185
HOTSPUR
Well, I am schooled. Good manners be your speed!
Enter Glyndŵr with Lady Percy and Mortimer’s wife
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave.
Mortimer’s wife weeps, and speaks to him in Welsh⌉
MORTIMER
This is the deadly spite that angers me:
My wife can speak no English, I no Welsh.
GLYNDŴR
My daughter weeps she’ll not part with you.
She’ll be a soldier, too; she’ll to the wars.
MORTIMER
Good father, tell her that she and my aunt Percy
Shall follow in your conduct speedily.
Glyndŵr speaks to her in Welsh, and she answers him in the same
GLYNDWR
She is desperate here, a peevish self-willed harlotry,
One that no persuasion can do good upon. 195
The lady speaks in Welsh
MORTIMER
I understand thy looks. That pretty Welsh
Which thou down pourest from these swelling
heavens
I am too perfect in, and but for shame
In such a parley should I answer thee.
The lady kisses him, and speaks again in Welsh
MORTIMER
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine,
And that’s a feeling disputation;
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learnt thy language, for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penned,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer’s bower
With ravishing division, to her lute.
GLYNDŴR
Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
The lady sits on the rushes and⌉ speaks again in Welsh
MORTIMER
O, I am ignorance itself in this!
GLYNDŴR
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
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 ’twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night 215
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
MORTIMER
With all my heart, I’ll sit and hear her sing.
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
He sits, resting his head on the Welsh lady’s lap⌉
YNDWR
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.
HOTSPUR
Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down.
Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap.
LADY PERCY (sitting) Go, ye giddy goose!
Hotspur sits, resting his head on Lady Percy’s lap. The music plays
HOTSPUR
Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh;
And ’tis no marvel, he is so humorous.
By’r Lady, he’s a good musician.
LADY PERCY
Then should you be nothing but musical,
For you are altogether governed by humours.
Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh.
HOTSPUR I had rather hear Lady my brach howl in Irish.
LADY PERCY Wouldst thou have thy head broken?
HOTSPUR No.
LADY PERCY Then be still. 235
HOTSPUR Neither—’tis a woman’s fault.
LADY PERCY Now God help thee!
HOTSPUR To the Welsh lady’s bed.
LADY PERCY What’s that?
HOTSPUR Peace; she sings.
Here the lady sings a Welsh song
HOTSPUR Come, Kate, I’ll have your song too.
LADY PERCY Not mine, in good sooth.
HOTSPUR 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 245 ‘As God shall mend me!’ and ‘As sure as day!’; And giv‘st such sarcenet surety for thy oaths As if thou never walk’st further than Finsbury. Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave ’in sooth’ 250 And such protest of pepper gingerbread To velvet-guards and Sunday citizens. Come, sing.
LADY PERCY I will not sing.
HOTSPUR ’Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be redbreast teacher. (Rising) An the indentures be drawn, I’ll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.
Exit
GLYNDŴR
Come, come, Lord Mortimer. You are as slow
As hot Lord Percy is on fire to go.
By this our book is drawn. We’ll but seal, 260
And then to horse immediately.
MORTIMER (rising) With all my heart.
The ladies rise, and all exeunt
3.2 Enter King Henry, Prince Harry, and lords
KING HENRY
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.