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. Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying down. Come, quick, quick, that I may lay my head in thy lap. Lady P. Go, ye giddy goose. The music plays. Hot. Now I perceive the devil understands Welsh; And 'tis no marvel, be is so humorous. By'r Lady, he is a good musician. Lady P. Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are altogether govern'd by humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the lady sing in Welsh. Hot. I had rather hear Lady, my brach, howl in Irish. Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head broken? Hot. No. Lady P. Then be still. Hot. Neither! 'Tis a woman's fault. Lady P. Now God help thee! Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. Lady P. What's that? Hot. Peace! she sings. Here the Lady sings a Welsh song. Come, Kate, I'll have your song too. Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. Hot. 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 ne'er walk'st 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 P. I will not sing. Hot. '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. Exit. Glend. 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, And then to horse immediately. Mort. With all my heart. Exeunt. Scene II. London. The Palace. Enter the King, Prince of Wales, and others.