Bard. Yes, in this present quality of war;Indeed the instant action, (a cause on foot,) Lives so in hope, as in an early spring We see the appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, What do we then, but draw anew the model To build at all? Much more, in this great work, The plot of situation, and the model; Question surveyors; know our own estate, Using the names of men, instead of men: Like one, that draws the model of a house Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, 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, Even as we are, to equal with the king. Bard. What is the king but five and twenty thousand? ' Consent upon a sure foundation ;] i. e. agree. Hast. To us, no more; nay, not so much, lord 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. Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces hither? Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmore land: 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. 8 one power against the French,] During this rebellion of Northumberland and the Archbishop, a French army of twelve thousand men landed at Milford Haven, in Wales, for the aid of Owen Glendower. STEEVENS. up. That thou provok'st thyself to cast him And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up, 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 entered the action? Fang. It is entered. Host. Where is your yeoman? Is it a lusty yeoman? will a' stand to't? Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare? Host. O lord, ay: good master Snare. Snare. Here, here. 9 Where is your yeoman?] A bailiff's follower was, in our au thor's time, called a serjeant's yeoman. Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff. Host. Yea, good master Snare; I have entered 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 stabbed 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 man, woman, 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;1 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 Pie-corner, (saving your manhoods,) to buy a saddle; and he's indited to dinner to the lubbar's head' in Lumbertstreet, to master Smooth's the silkman: I pray ye, since my exion is entered, 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 fubbed off, and fubbed off, and fubbed 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. 1 an a' come but within my vice;] Vice or grasp; a metaphor taken from a smith's vice. lubbar's head-] This is, I suppose, a colloquial corruption of the Libbard's head. JOHNSON. 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 honey suckle villain! wilt thou kill God's officers, and the king's? O thou honey-seed rogue! thou art a honey-seed; a man queller, and a woman queller. Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph. Fang. A rescue! a rescue! Host. Good people, bring bring a rescue or two.Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, thou rogue! do, thou hemp-seed! Fal. Away, you scullion! you rampallian! you fustilarian! I'll tickle your catastrophe. Enter the Lord Chief Justice, attended. Ch. Just. What's the matter? keep the peace here, ho! 3 - honey-suckle villain !-honey-seed rogue!] The landlady's corruption of homicidal and homicide. rampallian!-fustilarian!] The first of these terms may mean a ramping riotous strumpet. Fustilarian is, probably, a made word, from fusty. |