SCENE changes to the Archbishop of York's

Palace.

Enter Archbishop of York, Haftings, Thomas Mowbray (Earl Marshal) and Lord Bardolph.

HUS have you heard our cause, and know

York. T
THU

our means:

Now, my most noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes;
And firft, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?
Mowb. I well allow th' occafion of our arms,
But gladly would be better fatisfied

How in our means we should advance our felves,
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 Supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns
With an incensed fire of injuries.

Bard. The question then, lord Haftings, ftandeth thus ;
Whether our present five and twenty thousand
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 should not step too far
Till we had his affiftance by the hand.
For in a theam fo bloody-fac'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 Spur's cafe at Shrewsbury.

Bard. It was, my lord, who lin'd himself with hope, Eating the air, on promife of Supply;

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,

I 4

And,

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 first furvey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we fee the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the coft of the erection;
Which, if we find out-weighs ability,
What do we then but draw a-new the model

In fewer offices? at least, 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 eftate,
How able fuch a work to undergo,
To weigh against his oppofite: or elfe,
We fortifie in paper and in figures,
Ufing the names of men inftead of men :
Like one, that draws the model of a house
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 churlifh winter's tyranny.

Haft. Grant, that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth, Should be ftill-born; and that we now poffeft

The utmost man of expectation:

I think, we are a body ftrong enough,

Ev'n as we are, to equal with the King.

Bard. What, is the King but five and twenty thoufand?

Haft. To us, no more; nay, not fo much, lord Bar

dolph.

For his divifions, as the times do brawl,

Are

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 fhould draw his fev'ral strengths together,

And come against us in full puiffance,

Need not be dreaded.

Haft. If he fhould do fo,

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

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

I have no certain notice.

York. Let us on:

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
Did'ft thou beat heav'n with bleffing Bolingbroke,
Before he was, what thou would'ft have him be
And now, being trim'd up in thine own defires,
Thou, beaftly feeder, art fo full of him,
That thou provok'ft thy felf to caft him up.
So, fo, thou common dog, didft thou disgorge
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 these times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his Grave;
Thou, that threw'ft duit 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 accurst!

15

Paft,

Paft, and to come, feem beft; things prefent, worst.
Morub. Shall we go draw our numbers, and fet on ?
Haft. We are time's fubjects, and time bids, be gone.
[Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE, a Street in LONDON.

Enter Hoftefs, with two officers, Phang and Snare.

Но STE S S.

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

M Phang. It is enter'd.

Hoft. Where's your yeoman? is he a lufty

yeoman? Will he ftand to it?

Phang. Sirrah, where's Snare?

Hoft. 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.
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives: for
he will ftab.

Hoft. Alas-the-day! take heed of him; he ftab'd me in mine own houfe, 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. IfI can clofe with him, I care not for his thrust. 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 fcore. Good Mr. Phang, hold him fure; good Mr. Snare, let him not 'fcape. He comes continually to Pie-corner, faving your manhoods, to buy a faddle: and he is indited to dinner to the Lub

bar's

bar's-head in Lombard-ftreet 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. (6) A hundred mark is a long Lone, 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, from this day to that day, that it is a fhame to be thought on. There is no honesty in fuch dealing, unless a wọman fhould be made an Afs and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong.

Enter Falftaff, Bardolph, and the boy.

Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmfey-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 the kennel. Wilt thou? wilt thou? thou baftardly rogue. Murder, murder! O thou hony-fuckle villain, wilt thou kill God's officers and the King's? O thou hony-feed rogue! thou art a hony-feed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.

(6) A hundred Mark is a long one,] A long one? A long What a long Mark? For That's the only antecedent Subftantive it has to agree with: and common Sense won't admit of its being coupled to That. It is almost needless to obferve, how familiar it is with our Poet to play the Chimes upon Words fimilar in Sound, and differing in Signification: and therefore I make no Question but he wrote,

A hundred Mark is a long Lone for a poor lone Woman to bear: i. e. 100 Marks is a good round Sum for a poor Widow to venture on Truft. According to the old way of writing, the Word was fpelt, more generally, Lone, than, Loan, as it is

now;

Fal.