Keep the wild Flood confin'd; let Order die,
And let the World no longer be a Stage
To feed Contention in a lingring A&:
But let one Spirit of the firft-born Cain,
Reign in all Bofoms, that each Heart being fet
On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,
And Darkness be the Burier of the Dead.

Bard. Sweet Earl, divorce not Wisdom from your Honour.
Mort. The Lives of all your loving Complices
Lean on your Health, the which if you give o'er
To ftormy Paffion, muft perforce decay.
You caft th' Event of War, my noble Lord,
And fum'd the account of Chance, before you faid
Let us make Head: It was your Prefurmile,
That in the dole of Blows, your Son might drop.
You knew he walk'd o'er Perils, on an Edge
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er:
You were advis'd his Fleth was capable

Of Wounds and Scars; and that his forward Spirit
Would lift him, where moft trade of Danger rang'd,
Yer did you fay, Go forth: And none of this,
Though ftrongly apprehended, could reftrain
The ftiff-born Action: What hath then befall'n?
Or what hath this bold Enterprize brought forth,
More than that Being, which was like to be?
Bard. We all that are engaged to this Lofs,
Knew that we ventur'd on fuch dangerous Seas,
That if we wrought out Life, was ten to one;
And yet we ventur'd for the Gain propos'd,
Choak'd the Refpect of likely Peril fear'd,
And fince we are o'er-fet, venture again.
Come, we will all put forth, Body and Goods:
Mort. 'Tis more than time; and, my moft noble Lord,
I hear for certain, and do fpeak the Truth:
The gentle Arch-Bishop of York is up
With well appointed Powers: He is a Man
Who with a double Surety binds his Followers.
My Lord, your Son, had only but the Corps,
But Shadows, and the Shews of Men to fight.
For that fame Word, Rebellion, did divide
The Action of their Bodies, from their Souls,

And

And they did fight with Queafinefs, constrain'd,
As Men drink Potions; that their Weapons only
Seem'd on our Side: But for their Spirits and Souls,
This Word, Rebellion, it had froze them up,
As Fish are in a Pond. But now the Bishop
Turns Infurrection to Religion;

Suppos'd fincere, and holy in his Thoughts,
He's follow'd both with Body, and with Mind:
And doth enlarge his rifing, with the Blood
Of fair King Richard, fcrap'd from Pomfret Stones,
Derives from Heav'n his Quarrel, and his Caufe:
Tells them, he doth beftride a bleeding Land,
Gafping for Life, under great Bullingbroke,
And more, and lefs, do flock to follow him.
North. I knew of this before. But to speak Truth,
This prefent Grief had wip'd it from my Mind.
Go in with me, and counfel every Man

The apteft Way for Safety, and Revenge:

Get Pofts, and Letters, and make Friends with speed,
Never fo few, nor never yet more need.

V

SCENE III.

Enter Falstaff, and Page.

[Exeunt.

Fal. Sirrah, you Giant, what fays the Doctor to my Wa

ter?

Page. He faid, Sir, the Water it felf was a good heal ing Water: But for the Party that own'd it, he might have more Difeafes than he knew for.

Fal. Men of all forts take a pride to gird at me. The Brain of this foolish compounded Clay-man, is not able to invent any thing that tends to Laughter, more than I invent, or is invetted on me. I am not only witty in my felf, but the Caufe that Wit is in other Men. I do here walk before thee, like a Sow, that hath overwhelm'd all her Litter, but one. If the Prince put thee into my Service for any other Reafon, than to fet me off, why then I have no Judgment. Thou Horfon Mandrake, thou art fitter to be worn in my Cap, than to wait at my Heels. I was never mann'd with an Agot 'till now: But I will fet you neither in Gold nor Silver, but in vile Apparel, and fend you back again to your Mafter, for a Jewel. The

Juvenal!

Juvenal! the Prince your Mafter! whofe Chin is not yet fledg'd; I will fooner have a Beard grow in the Palm of my Hand, than he fhall get one on his Cheek: Yet he will not ftick to fay, his Face is a Face-Royal. Heav'n may finish it when he will, it is not a Hair amifs yet: He may keep it ftill as a Face-Royal, for a Barber fhall never earn Six-. pence out of it; and yet he will be crowing, as if he had writ Man ever fince his Father was a Batchelor. He may keep his own Grace, but he is almoft out of mine, I can affure him. What faid Mr. Dombledon, about the Satten for my fhort Cloak, and Siops?

Page. He faid, Sir, you should procure him better affurance than Bardolph: He would not take his Bond and yours, he lik'd not the Security,

Fal. Let him be damn'd like the Glutton, may his Tongue be hotter, a horfon a horfon Achitophel, a Rafcally-yea-forfooth-. knave, to bear a Gentleman in Hand, and then ftand upon Security? The horfon fmooth-pates do now wear nothing but high Shoes, and Bunches of Keys at their Girdles; and if a Man is through with them in honeft taking up, then. they muft ftand upon Security: I had as lief they would put Rats-bane in my Mouth, as offer to ftop it with Secu rity. I looked he fhould have fent me two and twenty Yards of Satten, as I am a true Knight, and he fends me Security. Well, he may fleep in Security, for he hath the horn of Abundance: And the lightness of his Wife fhines through it, and yet cannot he fee, though he have his own Lanthorn to light him. Where's Bardolph? Page. He's gone into Smithfield to buy your Worship a Horse.

Fal. I bought him in Pauls, and he'll buy me a Horfe in Smithfield. If I could get me a Wife in the Stews, I were Mann'd, Hors'd, and Wiv'd.

Enter Chief Justice, and Servants.

Page. Sir, here comes the Nobleman that committed the Prince for ftriking him, about Bardolph.

Fal. Wait clofe, I will not fee him.

Ch. Juft. What's he that goes there?

Serv. Falstaff, and't please your Lordship.

Ch. Juft. He that was in queftion for the Robbery?

Serv. He, my Lord. But he hath fince done good Service at Shrewsbury: And, as I hear, is now going with fome Charge to the Lord John of Lancaster.

Ch. Juft. What, to Tork? Call him back again.
Serv. Sir John Falstaff.

Fal. Boy, tell him I am deaf.

Page. You muft fpeak lowder, my Mafter is deaf. Ch. Juft. I am fure he is, to the hearing of any thing good. Go pluck him by the Elbow. I muft fpeak with him. Serv. Sir John.

Fal. What! a young Knave and beg! Are there not Wars? Is there not Employment? Doth not the King lack Subjects? Do not the Rebels want Soldiers? Though it be a shame to be on any fide but one, it is worse fhame to beg, than to be on the worst fide, were it worse than the Name of Rebellion can tell how to make it.

Serv. You mistake me, Sir.

Fal. Why, Sir, did I say you were an honeft Man? Ser ting my Knight hood, and my Soldiership afide. I had lied in my Throat, if I had faid fo.

Serv. I pray you, Sir, then fet your Knight-hood and your Soldiership afide, and give me leave to tell you, you lie in your Throat, if you fay I am any other than an honeft Man.

Fal. I give thee leave to tell me fo! I lay afide that which grows to me! If thou gett'ft any leave of me, hang me; if thou tak'st leave, thou wer't better be hang'd: You Hunt counter, hence; avaunt.

Serv. Sir, my Lord would fpeak with you.
Ch. Juft. Sir John Falstaff, a word with you.

Fal. My good Lord! give your Lordship good time of the Day. I am glad to fee your Lordship abroad; I heard fay, your Lordship was fick. I hope your Lordship goes abroad by advice. Your Lordship, though not clean past your Youth, hath yet fome fmack of Age in you: Some relifh of the Saltnefs of time; and I most humbly beseech your Lord hip, to have a reverend care of your Health.

Ch. Just. Sir John, I fent for you before your Expedition to Shrewsbury.

Fal. If it pleafe your Lordship, I hear his Majefty is return'd with fome difcomfort from Wales.

Ch. Juft.

Ch. Juft. I talk not of his Majefty: You would not come when I fent for you?

Fal. And I hear moreover, his Highnefs is fall'n into this fame whorfon Apoplexy.

Ch. Faft. Well, Heav'n mend him. I pray let me fpeak with you.

Fal. This Apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of Lethargy, a fleeping of the Blood, a whorfon Tingling.

Ch. Juft. What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.

Fal. It hath its original from much Grief; from Study and Perturbation of the Brain. I have read the Caufe of its Effects in Galen. It is a kind of Deafness.

Ch. Juft. I think you are fal'n into that Difeafe: For you hear not what I fay to you.

Fal. Very well, my Loid, very well: Rather, an't please you, it is the Disease of not Liftning, the Malady of not Marking, that I am troubled withal.

Ch. Just. To punish you by the Heels, would amend the attention of your Ears, and I care not if I be your Phyfician.

Fal. I am as poor as Job, my Lord; but not fo patient: Your Lordship may minifter the Potion of Imprisonment to me, in refpect of Poverty: But how I fhould be your Patient to follow your Prefcription, the Wife may make fome dram of a fcruple, or indeed, a fcruple it fe:f.

Ch. Juft. I fent for you, when there were matters against you for your Life, to speak with me.

Fal. As I was then advis'd by my learned Counsel, in the Laws of this Land-fervice, I did not come, Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in Infamy.

live in great

Fal. He that buckles him in my Belt, cannot live in lefs. Ch. Jaft. Your Means is very flender, and

great.

your Waste

Fal. I would it were otherwife: I would my Mears were greater, and my Waste flenderer.

Ch. Juft. You have mif-led the youthful Prince.

Fal. The young Prince hath mif-led me. I am the Felow with the great Belly, and he my Dog.

Ch. Juft. Well, I am loth to gall a new heal'd Wound; your Day's Service at Shrewsbury, hath a little gilded over VOL. III. R

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