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But gladly would be better satisfied
Haft. Our prelent mutters grow upon the file
Bard. The question then, Lord Hafings, standeth Whether our present five and twenty thousand [thus; líay hold up head without Northumberland ?
Haft. With him we may.
Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point :
York. 'Tis very true, Lord Bardolph; for indeed It was young Hot-fpur's case at Shrewsbury.
Bard. It was, my Lord, who lind himself with hope, Fating the air, on promise of supply; Flatt'ring himself with project of a power Much smaller than the smallelt of his thoughts; And so, with great imagination, Proper to madinen, led his pow'rs to death, And, winking, leap'd into deltruction.
Haft. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
Bard. Yes, if this present quality of war Impede the instant act; a caule on foot Lives fo in hope, as in an early spring We fee th' appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair That frosts will bite them. When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model ; And when we see 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 else, desist
Hast. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Bard. Wbat, is the King but five and twenty thou
Huft. To us, no more; nay, not so much, Lord BarFor 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 Must take up us : so is the unfirm King In three divided; and his coffers found With hollow poverty and emptiness.
York. That he should draw his sev'ral strengths togeAnd come against us in full puissance, [ther, Need not be dreaded.
Hoft. If he should do so, He leaves his back unarm’d, the French and Welch Baying him at the heels; never fear thať.
Bard. Who is it like should lead his forces hither?
Hast. The Duke of Lancaster, and Westmorland : Against the Welch, himself and Harry Monmouth: But who is substituted 'gainst the French, I have no certain notice. York. Let us on: • Caft, for work,
And publish the occasion of our arms.
Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? Haft. We are Times's subjects, and Time bids, be gone.
Enter Hostess, with two officers, Phang and Snare. Hoft. TR. Phang, have you enter'd the action?
Phang. It is enter'd. Hoft. Where's your yeoman’ is he a lusty yeoman?. will he and to it?
Phang. Sirrah, where's Snare?
Snare. It may chance cost some of us our lives : for he will stab.
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 spare neither man, woman, nor child.
Phang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thruit.
Hoft. No, nor I neither ; -I'll be at your elbow,
Phang. If I but filt 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 sure; good Mr. Snare, let him not ’scape. He comes continually to Pie-corner, saving your manhoods, to buy a saddle: and he is indited to dinner to the Lubbar's-head in Lombard-street, to Mr. Smooth's the Silkman. I pray ye, since my action is enter'd, 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 fubb’d off, and fubb’d 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.
Enter Falstaff, Bardolph, and the Boy. Yonder he comes, and that arrant malmsey-nose 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? whose mare's dead? what's the matter ?
Phang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit 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 grap; a metaphor taken from a smith's vice. Mr. Pope. VOL. IV. z
the kennel. Wilt thou ? wilt thou? thou bastardly rogue. Murder, murder! O thou honey-fuckle vil. lain *, 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.
Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.
Hoft. Good people, bring a rescue or two ; thou wo't, wo't thou thou wo't, wo't thou? do, do, thoá rogue, do, thou hemp-leed !
Fal. Away, yon fcallion, 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.?
Hoft. Good my Lord, be good to me. I beseech yon, fand to me. Ch. Juft. How now, Sir John? what, brawl
ing here? Doth this become your place, your time, and businefs? You should have been well on your way to York. Stand from him, fellow; wherefore hang'st thou on
him? Hoft. O my most worshipful Lord, an't please your Grace, I am a poor widow of East-cheap, and he is arrested at my fuit.
Ch. Juft. For what sum?
Hojt. It is more than for some, my Lord, it is for all; all I have he hath eaten me out of house and home, he h ih put all iny substance into that fat belly of his : but i will have some of it out again, or l'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 tempest of exclamation: are you not asham’d to inforce a poor widow to so rough a course to come by her own
Fal. What is the groís sum that I owe thee? Hoft. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thyself * She means 10 say, bomicidal villain, and bomicide rogue.