I am too perfect in; and, but for shame.
In such a parley would I answer thee.
The lady again in Welsh.
I understand thy kisses and thou mine, 204
And that's a feeling disputation:
But I will never be a truant, love,
Till I have learn'd thy language; for thy tongue
Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd,
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, 209
With ravishing division, to her lute.
Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run mad.
The lady speaks again in Welsh.
Mort. O! I am ignorance itself in this. 212
Glend. She bids you
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you,
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep, 217
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference between day and night 220
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
Mort. With all my heart I'll sit and hear her sing:
By that time will our book, I think, be drawn.
Glend. Do so; 225
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. 228
Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying
down: come, quick, quick, that I may lay my
head in thy lap.
205 disputation: conversation
208 highly penn'd: written in high style
210 division: modulation
214 wanton: soft, luxurious
224 book: indentures
