Let me not understand you, then; speak it in Welsh. I can speak English, lord, as well as you; For I was train'd up in the English court; Where, being but young, I framed to the harp Many an English ditty lovely well And gave the tongue a helpful ornament, A virtue that was never seen in you. Marry, And I am glad of it with all my heart: I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd, Or a dry wheel grate on the axle-tree; And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry: 'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. Come, you shall have Trent turn'd. I do not care: I'll give thrice so much land To any well-deserving friend; But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. Are the indentures drawn? shall we be gone? The moon shines fair; you may away by night: 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. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross my father! I cannot choose: sometime he angers me With telling me of the mouldwarp and the ant, Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies, And of a dragon and a finless fish, A clip-wing'd griffin and a moulten raven, 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 That were his lackeys: I cried 'hum,' and 'well, go to,' But mark'd 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, Than feed on cates and have him talk to me In any summer-house in Christendom. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman, Exceedingly well read, and profited In strange concealments, valiant as a lion And as 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 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