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.