Cousin: of many men
I doe not beare these Crossings: Giue me leaue
To tell you once againe, that at my Birth
The front of Heauen was full of fierie shapes,
The Goates ranne from the Mountaines, and the Heards
Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:
These signes haue markt me extraordinarie,
And all the courses of my Life doe shew,
I am not in the Roll of common men.
Where is the Liuing, clipt in with the Sea,
That chides the Bankes of England, Scotland, and Wales,
Which calls me Pupill, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but Womans Sonne,
Can trace me in the tedious wayes of Art,
And hold me pace in deepe experiments
Hotsp. I thinke there's no man speakes better Welsh:
Ile to Dinner
Mort. Peace cousin Percy, you will make him mad
Glend. I can call Spirits from the vastie Deepe
Hotsp. Why so can I, or so can any man:
But will they come, when you doe call for them?
Glend. Why, I can teach thee, Cousin, to command the
Deuill
Hotsp. And I can teach thee, Cousin, to shame the Deuil,
By telling truth. Tell truth, and shame the Deuill.
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