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 he's so humorous.
By'r Lady, he's a good musician.
LADY P.
Then should you be nothing but musical; for you are
altogether governed 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.
(An Rí Anraí IV, Cuid a hAon, Shakespeare)