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But gladly would be better satisfied
How in our means we fhould advance ourselves,
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the pow'r and puiffance of the King?

Haft. Our prefent mufters grow upon the file
To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
And our fupplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whofe bofom burns
With an incenfed fire of injuries.

Bard. The question then, Lord Haftings, ftandeth
Whether our prefent five and twenty thousand [thus:
May hold up head without Northumberland?
Haft. With him we may.

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

York. 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed It was young Hot-fpur's cafe at Shrewsbury.

Bard. It was, my Lord, who lin'd himself with hope, Fating the air, on promife of fupply;

Flatt'ring himself with project of a power
Much fmaller than the fmalleft of his thoughts;

And fo, with great imagination,

Proper to madmen, led his pow'rs to death,

And, winking, leap'd into deftruction.

Haft. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope. Bard. Yes, if this prefent quality of war Impede the inftant act; a caufe on foot Lives fo in hope, as in an early spring

We fee th' appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, Hope gives not fo much warrant, as despair

That frofts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We firft furvey the plot, then draw the model;

And when we fee the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the cost of the erection;
Which if we find out-weighs ability,

What do we then but draw a-new the model

In fewer offices? or elfe, defift

To build at all? Much more, in this great work, (Which is almost to pluck a kingdom down,

And fet another up), fhould we furvey

The plot of fituation, and the model;
Confent upon a fure foundation,
Question furveyors, know our own estate,
How able fuch a work to undergo,
To weigh againft his oppofite: or elfe,
We fortify in paper and in figures,
Ufing the names of men instead of men:
Like one, that draws the model of a houfe
Beyond his pow'r to build it; who, half through.
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost *
"A naked fubject to the weeping clouds,
"And wafte for churlish winter's tyranny.

Haft. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be ftill-born; and that we now poffefs'd
The utmost man of expectation:

I think we are a body ftrong enough,
Ev'n as we are, to equal with the King.

[fand?

Bard. What, is the King but five and twenty thou-
Haft. To us, no more; nay, not fo much, Lord Bar-
For his divifions, as the times do brawl, [dolph.
Are in three heads; one pow'r against the French,
And one against Glendower; perforce, a third
Muft take up us: fo is the unfirm King

In three divided; and his coffers found
With hollow poverty and emptiness.

York. That he should draw his fev'ral strengths togeAnd come against us in full puiffance,

Need not be dreaded.

Haft. If he fhould do fo,

[ther,

He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welch Baying him at the heels; never fear that.

Bard. Who is it like fhould lead his forces hither? Haft. The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmorland : Against the Welch, himself and Harry Monmouth: But who is fubftituted 'gainst the French,

I have no certain notice.

York. Let us on:

Coft, for work.

And

And publish the occafion of our arms.

The commonwealth is fick of their own choice
Their over-greedy love hath furfeited.
An habitation giddy and unfure

Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applaufe
Didft thou beat heav'n with blefling Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be?
And now, being trimm'd up in thine own defires,
Thou, beaftly feeder, art fo full of him,
That thou provok'it thyfelf to caft him up.
So, fo, thou common dog, didft thou difgorge
Thy glutton-bofom of the Royal Richard,
And now thou would't eat thy dead vomit up,

And howl'ft to find it. What truft is in thefe times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave;
Thou that threw'ft duft upon his goodly head,.
When through proud London he came fighing on
After th' admired heels of Bolingbroke."

Cry't now, O earth, yield us that King again,
And take thou this. O thoughts of men accurs'd!
Paft and to come, feem beft; things prefent, worst.
Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on?
Haft. We are Times's fubjects, and Time bids, be
gone.
[Exeunt.

ACT

II.

SCENE I.

Aftreet in London.

Enter Hoftefs, with two officers, Phang and Snare."

Hoft.

M

R. Phang, have you enter'd the action?
Phang. It is enter'd.

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Hoft. Where's your yeoman is he a lufty yeoman ?~ will he ftand to it?

Phang. Sirrah, where's Snare?

Foft. O Lord, ay, good Mr. Snare.

Snare. Here, here.

Phang. Snare, we must arreft Sir John Falstaff.

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

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Snare. It he will ftab.

may

chance coft fome of us our lives: for

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 fpare neither man, woman, nor child.

Phang. If I can clofe with him, I care not for his thruft.

Hoft. No, nor I neither ;- -I'll be at your elbow. Phang. If I but fist him once; if he come but within my vice *.

Hoft. I am undone by his going; I warrant you, he is an infinitive thing upon my score. Good Mr. Phang, hold him fure; good Mr. Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes continually to Pie-corner, faving your manhoods, to buy a faddle: and he is indited to dinner to the Lubbar's-head in Lombard-street, to Mr. Smooth's the Silkman. I pray ye, fince my action is enter'd, and my cafe fo openly known to the world, let him be brought in to his anfwer. 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 fubb'd off, and fubb'd off, from this day to that day, that it is a fhame to be thought on. There is no honefty in fuch dealing, unlefs a woman should be made an ass and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong.

Enter Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Boy.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nofe knave Bardolph with him. Do your offices, do your offices: Mr. Phang and Mr. Snare, do me, do me, do me your offices.

Fal. How now? whofe mare's dead? what's the matter?

Phang. Sir John, I arreft you at the fuit of Mrs. Quickly.

Fal. Away, varlets; draw, Bardolph: cut me off the villain's head: throw the quean in the kennel. Hoft. Throw me in the kennel? I'll throw thee in

Vice or grafp; a metaphor taken from a fmith's vice. Mr. Pepe. VOL. IV.. Z

the

the kennel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder! O thou honey-fuckle villain *, wilt thou kill God's officers and the King's? O thou honey-feed rogue*! thou art a honey-feed, a man queller, and a woman-queller.

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Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.

Phang. A refcue, a rescue!

Hoft. Good people, bring a rescue or two; thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, thou rogue, do, thou hemp-feed!

Fal. Away, you fcullion, you rampallian, you fuftilarian: I'll tickle your catastrophe.

SCENE II. Enter Chief Justice attended. Ch. Juft. What's the matter? keep the peace here, ho?

Haft. Good my Lord, be good to me. I beseech you, ftand to me.

Ch. Juft. How now, Sir John? what, are you brawling here?

Doth this become your place, your time, and business? You thould have been well on your way to York. Stand from him, fellow; wherefore hang't thou on him?

Hoft. O my moft worshipful Lord, an't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of Eaft-cheap, and he is arrested at my fuit.

Ch. Juft. For what fum ?

Hoft. It is more than for some, my Lord, it is for all; all have he hath eaten me out of houfe and home; he hath put all my fubftance into that fat belly of his but will have fome of it out again, or I'll ride thee o'nights like the mare.

Fal. I think I am as like to ride the mare, if I have any 'vantage of ground to get up.

Ch. Juft. How comes this, Sir John? Fie, what man of good temper would endure this tempeft of exclamation are you not afham'd to inforce a poor widow to fo rough a courfe to come by her own >

Fal. What is the grois fum that I owe thee?
Hoft. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself
She means to say, bomicidal villain, and bomicide rogue.

and

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