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.]
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 “As God shall mend me,” and “As sure as day”
And givest such sarcenet surety for thy oaths
As if thou never walk’dst further than Finsbury.
Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
A good mouth-filling oath, and leave “In sooth,”
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. An the indentures be drawn, I’ll away within these two hours; and so come in when ye will.