Page 730 - Shakespeare - Vol. 2

GLENDOWER

The moon shines fair; you may away by night. [140]
I’ll haste the writer, and withal
Break with your wives of your departure hence.

I am afraid my daughter will run mad,
So much she doteth on her Mortimer.
Exit.

MORTIMER
Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! [145]

HOTSPUR
I cannot choose. Sometimes he angers me
With telling me of the moldwarp and the ant,

Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies,
And of a dragon and a finless fish,
A clip-winged griffin and a moulten raven, [150]

A couching lion and a ramping cat,
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what −
He held me last night at least nine hours
In reckoning up the several devils’ names [155]

That were his lackeys. I cried ‘hum,’ and ‘well, go to!’
But marked him not a word. O, he is as tedious
As a tired horse, a railing wife;

Worse than a smoky house. I had rather live
With cheese and garlic in a windmill far [160]
Than feed on cates and have him talk to me
In any summer house in Christendom.

MORTIMER
In faith, he is a worthy gentleman,

Exceedingly well read, and profited
In strange concealments, valiant as a lion, [165]
And wondrous affable, and as bountiful
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin?

He holds your temper in a high respect
And curbs himself even of his natural scope