Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed, It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 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, 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 Question surveyors; know our own estate, Like one, that draws the model of a house Beyond his power to build it; who, half through, * Agree. Hast. Grant, that our hopes (yet likely for 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? 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, In three divided; and his coffers sound 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 hi ther? 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. O thou fond many! with what loud applause Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, * Multitude. Before he was what thou would'st have him be? And now thou would'st eat thy dead vomit up, Cry'st now, O earth, yield us that king again, 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 yeomant? Is it a lusty yeoman? will a' stand to't? Fung. Sirrah, where's Snare? Host. O lord, ay: good master Snare. Snare. Here, here. Fung. Snare, we must arrest sir John Falstaff. • Dress'd. + A bailiff's follower. 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 nor for his thrust. Host. No, nor I neither: I'll be at your elbow. Fang. An I but fist him once; an a' come within my vicet; 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-corper, (saving your manhoods), to buy a saddle; and he's indited to dinner to the Jubbar's head in Lumbert-street, 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. 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. Act II. Fal. How now? whose marc'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 honeysuckle 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 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! Host. Good my lord, be good to me! I beseech you, stand to me! Ch. Just. How now, sir Johu? what, are you brawling here? Doth this become your place, your time, and busi ness? You should have been well on your way to York.Stand from him, fellow; Wherefore hang'st thou on him? Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace, I am a poor widow of Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. Ch. Just. For what sum? Host. It is more than for some, my lord; it is for |