Consent upon a fure foundation,
Question furveyors, know our own estate,
How able fuch a work to undergo,
To weigh against his oppofite? or else,
We fortifie in paper and in figures,
Ufing the names of men instead of men:
Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his pow'r to build it; who, half through,
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost
A naked fubject to the weeping clouds,
And wafte, for churlish winter's tyranny.

Haft. Grant that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,
Should be still-born; and that we now poffeft
The utmost man of expectation-:

I think we are a body ftrong enough,

Ev'n as we are, to equal with the King.

Bard. What, is the King but five and twenty thou fand?

Haft. To us no more; nay not so much, lord Bar. dolph.

For his divifions, as the times do brawl,

Are in three heads; one pow'r against the French,
And one against Glendower; perforce a third
Muft take up us: fo is the unfirm King

In three divided; and his coffers found

With hollow poverty and emptiness.

York. That he should draw his fev'ral ftrengths together,

And come againft us in full puiffance,

Need not be dreaded.

Haft. If he fhould do fo,

He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welf
Baying him at the heels; never fear that.

Bard. Who is it like fhould lead his forces hither?
Haft. The Duke of Lancaster and Weftmorland :
Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth.
But who is fubftituted 'gainst the French,

I have no certain notice.

3

York.

m York. Let us on:

And publifh the occafion of our arms.

The commonwealth is fick of their own choice;
Their over-greedy love hath furfeited.

An habitation giddy and unfure

ap.

Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.
O thou fond many! with what loud applaufe
Did'st thou beat heav'n with bleffing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou would't have him be?
And now being trim'd up in thine own defires,
Thou, beaftly feeder, art fo full of him,
That thou provok'st thy felf to cast him
So, fo thou common dog, didft thou difgorge
Thy glutton-bofom of the royal Richard,
And now thou would't eat thy dead vomit up,
And howl'ft to find it. What trust in these times?
They, that when Richard liv'd, would have him die,
Are now become enamour'd on his grave:
Thou that threw'ft duft upon his goodly head,
When through proud London he came fighing on
After th'admired heels of Bolingbroke,

Cry'ft now, O Earth yield us that King again,

d take thou this. O thoughts of men accurs'd, Paft, and to come, seem best; things prefent, worst. Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and fet on? Haft. We are time's fubjects, and time bids, be gone.

m This excellent fpeech of York, was one of the paffages added by Shakespear after his first edition.

ACT II. SCENE I.

LONDON.

Enter Hoflefs, with two officers, Fang and Snare.

M

HOSTESS.

R. Fang, have you enter'd the action?
Fang. It is enter'd.

Hoft. Where's your yeoman? is he a
lufty yeoman? Will he ftand to it?
Fang. Sirrah, where's Snare?

Hoft. Ay, ay, good Mr. Snare.

Snare. Here, here.

Fang. Snare, we must arreft Sir John Falstaff.
Hoft. Ay, good Mr. Snare, I have enter'd him and all.
Snare. It may chance coft fome of us our lives: he
will tab.

he cares

He

Hoft. Alas-the-day; take heed of him; he ftab'd me in mine own house, and that, most beastly; not what mifchief he doth, if his weapon be out. will foin like any devil, he will fpare neither man, woman, nor child.

Fang. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. Hoft. No, nor I neither; I'll be at your elbow. Fang. If I but fift him once; if he come but within my a vice.

Hoft.

a vice, or grafp, a metaphor taken from a fmith's vice; there is another reading in the old edition, view, which 1 think not so good.

Hoft. I am undone by his going; I warrant you he is an infinitive thing upon my fcore. Good Mr. Fang, hold him fure; good Mr. Snare, let him not scape. He comes continually to Pie-corner, faving 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, fince my action is enter'd, and my case so openly known to the world, let him be brought in to A hundred mark is a long one, for a poor lone woman to bear; and I have born, and born, and born: and have been fub'd off, and fub'd off, from this day to that day, that it is a fhame to be thought on. There is no honesty in fuch dealing, unless a woman fhould be made an Afs and a beast, to bear every knave's wrong.

his answer.

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. Fang and Mr. Snare, do me, do me, do me your

offices.

Fal. How now? whofe mare's dead? what's the matter?

Fang. Sir John, I arreft you at the fuit 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 the kennel. Wilt thou wilt thou? thou baftardly rogue. Murder, murder! O thou hony-fuckle villain, wilt thou kill God's officers and the King's? O thou hony-feed rogue, thou art a hony-feed, a man-queller, and a woman-queller.

Fal. Keep them off, Bardolph.

Fang. A refcue, a rescue!

Hoft. Good people, bring a rescue or two; thou wo't, wo't thou, thou wo't, wo't thou rogue: do, thou hempfeed.

Fal. Away you fcullion, you rampallian, you fusfilarian: I'll tickle your catastrophe.

SCENE II.

Enter Chief Justice.

Ch. Juft. What's the matter? keep the peace here,

hoa.

Haft. Good my lord, be good to me. ftand to me.

I beseech you

Ch. Juft. How now, Sir John? what, are you braw

Doth this become your place, your time, and business?
You fhould have been well on your way to York.
Stand from him fellow, wherefore hang'ft thou on him?

Hoft. O my most worshipful lord, an't please your grace I am a poor widow of Eaftcheap, and he is arrefted at my fuit.

Ch. Juft. For what fum ?

.

Hoft. It is more than for fome, my lord, it is for all; all I have; he hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my fubftance into that fat belly of his ; but I will have fome of it out again, or I'll ride thee '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 tempeft of exclamation? are you not afham'd to inforce a poor widow to fo rough a courfe to come by her own?

Fal. What is the grofs fum that I owe thee?

Hoft. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, thy felf, and the mony too. Thou did'ft fwear to me on a par cel-gilt goblet, fitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a fea-coal fire, on Wednesday in Whitfun-week, when the Prince broke thy head for likening him to a finging-man of Windfor; thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy wound, to marry me, and make me my lady thy wife. Canft thou deny it? did

not: