to sweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, an I brandish any thing but my bottle, I would I might never spit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I am thrust upon it: Well, I cannot last ever: But it was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you will needs say, I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would to heaven, my name were not so terrible to the enemy as it is. I were better to be eaten to death with rust, than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; And heaven bless your expedition! Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish me forth? Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well: Commend me to my cousin Westmoreland. [Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant. Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle.3— Boy! Fal. What money is in my purse? Page. Seven groats and two-pence. Fal. I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. - Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this to the earl of Westmoreland; and this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin: About it; you know where to find me. [E.rit Page.] This gout plays the rogue with my great toe. It is no matter if I do halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my pension shall seem the more reasonable : 3 A large wooden hammer, so heavy as to require three men to wield it. A good wit will make use of any thing; I will turn diseases to commodity.+ [Exit. SCENE III. York. A Room in the Archbishop's Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York, the Lords HASTINGS, MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH. Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and known our means; And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, How, in our means, we should advance ourselves Of great Northumberland, whose bosom burns With an incensed fire of injuries. L. Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth thus; Whether our present five and twenty thousand L. Bard. 4 Profit. Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed, It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. L. Bard. It was, my lord; who lin❜d himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply, Flattering himself with project of a power Proper to madmen, led his powers to death, Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt, We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, What do we then, but draw anew the model To build at all? Much more, in this great work, Using the names of men, instead of men: Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, s Agree. A naked subject to the weeping clouds, Hast. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth) Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd I think, we are a body strong enough, 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, And one against Glendower; perforce, a third Must take up us: So is the unfirm king In three divided; and his coffers sound With hollow poverty and emptiness. Arch. That he should draw his several strengths together, And come against us in full puissance, Need not be dreaded. 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. 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. 6 Foolish multitude. Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. London. A Street. Enter Hostess; FANG, and his Boy, with her; and, Host. Master Fang, have you entered the action? Host. Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman? will a' stand to't? Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare? Høst. O, good master Snare. Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff. |