Consent upon a sure foundation; Hast. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth,) Should be stillborn, and that we now possess'd L. Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty thousand? Hast. 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, With hollow poverty and emptiness. Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together, And come against us in full puissance, Hast. If he should do so, He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh Baying him at the heels: never fear that. L. 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. Arch. Let us on; And publish the occasion of our arms. Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. times? They that, when Richard liv'd, would have him die, Are now become enamour'd on his grave: Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, When through proud London he came sighing on And take thou this! O thoughts of men accurst! on? Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be [Exeunt. gone. ACT II. SCENE I. LONDON. A STREET. Enter Hostess; Fang, and his boy, with her; and Snare following. Host. Master Fang, have you enter'd the action? Fang. It is enter'd. Host. Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty yeo man? will a' stand to't? Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare? Host. O lord, ay; good master Snare. Snare. Here, here. Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff. Host. Yea, good master Snare; I have enter'd him and all. Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives, for he will stab. Host. Alas the day! take heed of him; he stabb'd me in mine own house, and that most beastly: in good faith, a' cares not what mischief he doth, if his weapon be out: he will foin like any devil; he will spare neither woman, man, nor child. Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. Host. No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow. Fang. An I but fist him once; an a' come but within my vice; Host. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he's an infinitive thing upon my score:-Good master Fang, hold him sure;-good master Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes continuantly to Pyecorner, (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle; and he's indited to dinner to the lubbar's head in Lumbert-street, to master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my exion is enter'd, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his answer. A hundred mark is a long loan for a poor lone woman to bear: and I have borne, and borne, and borne; and have been fub'd off, and fub'd off, and fub'd off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame to be thought on. There is no honesty in such dealing; unless a woman should be made an ass, and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong. Enter Sir John Falstaff, Page, and Bardolph. Yonder he comes; and that arrant malmsey-nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your offices, do your offices, master Fang, and master Snare; do me, do me, do me your offices. Fal. How now? whose mare's dead? what's the matter? Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of mistress Quickly. Fal. Away, varlets! - Draw, Bardolph; cut me off the villain's head; throw the quean in the channel. Host. Throw me in the channel? I'll throw thee in the channel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue!-Murder, murder! O thou honeysuckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers, and |