ACT III.
Scene I. Bangor. The Archdeacon's house.
Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, and Glendower.[2590]
Mort. These promises are fair, the parties sure,
And our induction full of prosperous hope.
Hot. Lord Mortimer, and cousin Glendower,[2591]
Will you sit down?[2591]
And uncle Worcester: a plague upon it![2591]5
I have forgot the map.[2591][2592]
Glend. No, here it is.[2592]
Sit, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur,[2592]
For by that name as oft as Lancaster[2592][2593]
Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale and with[2592][2594]
A rising sigh he wisheth you in heaven.[2592][2595]10
Hot. And you in hell, as oft as lie hears Owen[2596][2597]
Glendower spoke of.[2596]
Glend. I cannot blame him: at my nativity[2598]
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
Of burning cressets; and at my birth[2599][2600]15
The frame and huge foundation of the earth[2599][2601]
Shaked like a coward.[2599][2602]
Hot. Why, so it would have done at the same season,[2603][2604]
if your mother's cat had but kittened, though yourself had[2603][2605]
never been born.[2603][2606]20