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moreland; and this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceiv'd the first white hair on my chin: About it, you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout ! or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or the other, plays the rogue with my great

It is no matter, if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable: A good wit will make use of any thing ; I will turn diseases to 'commodity.

[Exit.

toe.

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The Archbishop of York's Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York, Lord Hastings, Thomas

Mowbray (Earl Marshal) and Lord Bardolph.
York. Thus have you heard our cause, and know our

means ;
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes
And first, lord marshal, what say you to it?

Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms;
But gladly would be better satisfied,
How,' in our means, we should advance ourselves
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the power and puissance of the king.

Haf. Our present nusters grow upon the file
To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
And our supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.

P commodity. ].my advantage.
Commodity, the bias of the world."

KING John, Vol. III. p.
VOL. III.

R9

i Faule.

Bard,

Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, ftandeth

thus ;

Whether our present five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.

Hast. With him, we may.

Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point ;
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we should not step too far
'Till we had his assistance by the hand :
For, in a theme so bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.

York. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph ; for, indeed,
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury.

Bard. It was, my lord ; who lind himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply, Flattering himself with project of a power 9 Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts: And so, with great imagination, Proper to madmen,' led his powers to death, And, winking, leap'd into destruction.

Haft. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt,
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope.

Bard. 'Yes, if this present quality of war,
Indeed the instant action (a cause on foot)
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair,
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We first survey the plot, then draw the model;

9 Much smaller]—Which eventually prorrd so.

'Yes, if this present quality of war, &c.]—Yes, such fpeculations have proved fatal, and must ever be dangerous, if relied on, under circumstances like the present, when the enterprise we are engaged in Lives (only) To in bope, &c.

And

And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection :
Which if we find outweighs ability,
What do we then, but draw anew the model
In fewer offices; or, at last, desist
To build at all? Much more, in this great work,
(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down,
And set another up) should we survey
The plot of situation, and the model ; ,
Consent upon a sure foundation ;
Question surveyers; know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,
To weigh against his opposite; or else,
We fortify in paper, and in figures,
Using the names of men instead of men :
Like one, that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
Gives o’er, and leaves his part-created cost
A naked subject to the weeping clouds,
And waste for churlish winter'd tyranny.

Haft. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth)
Should be still-born, and that we now poffess’d
The very utmost man of expectation;
I think, we are a body strong enough,
Even as we are, to equal with the king.

Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty thousand ?

Haft. To us, no more; nay, not so much, lord Bardolph. For his divisions, as the times do brawl, Are in three heads : one power against the French, And one against Glendower; perforce, a third Must take up us: So is the unfirm king In three divided ; and his coffers found With hollow poverty and emptiness. part-created coff]-unfinished edifice. Qq2

York,

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York. That he should draw his several strengths together,
And come against us in full puissance,
Need not be dreaded.

Haft. If he should do so,
He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh
Baying him at the heels : never fear that.

Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces hither ?

Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland:
Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Monmouth:
But who is substituted 'gainst the French,
I have no certain notice.

York. Let us on ;
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice,
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited :
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou would'st have him be?
And being now trimmed in thine own desires,
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him,
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up.
So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard
And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these times?
They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his

grave :
Thou, that threw'st duft upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came fighing on
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke,
Cry't now, O cartb, give us that king again,

And

And take thou this! O thoughts of men accurst !
Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, worst.

Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? :
Haft. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

[Exeunt.

A CT II.

SCENE I.

A Street in London.

Enter Hostess; Phang, and bis Boy, with ber; and Snare

following Hoft. Master Phang, have you enter'd the action ? Pbang. It is enter'd.

Hojt. Where is your 'yeoman? Is it a lufty yeoman ? will a' ftand to't ?

Pbang. Sirrah, where's Snare?
Hoft. O lord, ay ; good master Snare,
Snare. Here, here.
Pbang. Snare, we must arrest fir John Falstaff.

Hoft. Ay, good master Snare ; I have enter'd him and all.

Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab.

Hoft. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'd me in mine own house, and that most beastly; he cares not what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out: he will foin like any devil; he will spare neither man, woman, nor child.

Phang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust.

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