Sbal, Hah, coufin Silence, that thou hadft feen that, that this knight and I have seen! hah, Sir John, faid I well? Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, mafter Shallow.

Shal. That we have, that we have, in faith, Sir John, we have: our watch word was, hem, boys! Come, let's to dinner; Oh the days that we have feen! come, come.

Bul. Good mafter corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here is four Harry ten fhillings in French crowns for you: in very truth, Sir, I had as lief be hang'd, Sir, as go; and yet for mine own part, Sir, I do not care, but rather because I am unwilling, and for mine own part have a defire to stay with my friends, elfe, Sir, I did not care for mine own part so much.

Bard. Go to; ftand afide.

Moul. And good mafter corporal captain, for my old dame's fake ftand my friend: the hath no body to do any thing about her when I am gone, and fhe's old and cannot help her felf: you fhall have forty, Sir.

Bard. Go to; ftand afide.

2

Feeble. I care not, a man can die but once; we owe God a death. I will never bear a base mind: if it be my deftiny, fo. If it be not, fo. No man is too good to ferve his Prince ; and let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.

Bard. Well faid, thou art a good fellow.
Feeble. 'Faith, I will bear no bafe mind.
Fal. Come, Sir, which men fhall I have?
Shal. Four of which you please.

Bard. Sir, a word with you: I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bulcalf:

Fal. Go to: well.

Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you have?
Fal. Do you chufe for me.

Shal. Marry then, Mouldy, Bulcalf, Feeble and Shadow. Fal. Mouldy and Bulcalf: for you, Mouldy, ftay at home 'till you are paft fervice, and for your part, Bulcalf, grow 'till you come unto it: I will none of you.

Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not your self wrong, they

are

are your likelieft men, and I would have you ferv'd with the best.

Fal. Will you tell me, mafter Shallow, how to chufe a man? care I for the limb, the thewes, the ftature, bulk and big femblance of a man? give me the fpirit, master Shallow, Here's Wart, you fee what a ragged appearance it is he fhall charge you and difcharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer; come off and on, swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer's bucket. And this fame half-fac'd fellow Shadow, give me this man, he prefents no mark to the enemy, the fo-man may with as great aim level at the edge of a pen-knife: and, for a retreat, how fwiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor, run off. O give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones. Put me a caliver into Wart's hand, Bardolph.

Bard. Hold, Wart, traverfe: thus, thus, thus.

Fal. Come, manage me your caliver: fo, very well, go to, very good, exceeding good. O give me always a little, lean, old, chopt, bald fhot. Well faid, Wart, thou art a good fcab: hold, there's a tefter for thee.

Sbal. He is not his craft-mafter, he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile End-Green, when I lay at Clement's Inn, I was then Sir Dagenet in Arthur's fhew, there was a little quiver fellow, and he would manage you his piece thus; and he would about, and about, and come you in, and come you in: rah, tah, tah, would he fay; bounce, would he fay, and away again would he go, and again would he come: I fhall never fee fuch a fellow.

Fal. These fellows will do well. Mafter Shallow, God keep you; farewel, mafter Silence. I will not ufe many words with you; fare you well, gentlemen both! I thank you, I muft a dozen mile to-night. Bardolph, give the foldiers coats.

Shal. Sir John, heaven blefs you, and profper your affairs, and fend us peace! As you return, vifit my house. Let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure I will with you to the Court.

Fal. I would you would, master Shallow.

Shal. Go to: I have spoke at a word, Fare you well!

[Exit. Fal

Fal. Fare you well, gentlemen. On, Bardolph, lead the men away. As I return I will fetch off thefe Justices: I do fee the bottom of Juftice Shallow. How fubject we old men are to this vice of lying! this fame ftarv'd Juftice hath done nothing but prated to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbal-ftreet; and every third word a lie, more duly paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's Inn, like a man made after fupper of a cheese-paring. When he was naked he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantaftically carv'd upon it with a knife. He was fo forlorn, that his dimenfions to any thick fight were invifible. He was the very Genius of famine, yet leacherous as a Monkey, and the whores call'd him Mandrake : he came ever in the rereward of the fashion; and fung thofe tunes to the over-fcutcht hufwives that he heard the carmen whistle, and fware they were his Fancies, of his Goodnights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a Squire, and talks as familiarly of John of Gaunt as if he had been fworn brother to him: and I'll be fworn he never faw him but once in the Tilt-yard, and then he broke his head for Crouding among the Marshal's men. I faw it, and told John of Gaunt he beat his own name, for you might have trufs'd him and all his apparel into an Eel-fkin: the cafe of a treble hoboy was a manfion for him ; and now hath he land and beeves. Well, I will be acquainted with him, if I return; and it shall go hard but I will make him a philofopher's two ftones to me. If the young Dace be a bait for the old Pike, I fee no reafon in the law of nature but I may fnap at him. Let time shape, and there's an end. [Exeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Foreft in Yorkshire,

Enter the Archbishop of York, Mowbray, Haftings,
and Colevile.

York.

WHAT is this foreft call'd?

WH Haft. 'Tis Gaultree foreft.

York, Here ftand, my Lords, and fend difeoverers forth, To know the numbers of our enemies.

Haft.

Haft. We have fent forth already.

York. 'Tis well done.

My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you, that I have receiv'd
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenour and fubftance thus:
Here he doth with his perfon, with fuch powers
As might hold fortance with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers,
That your attempts may over-live the hazard
And fearful meeting of their oppofite.

Mob. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground, And dash themselves to pieces.

Enter a Meffenger.

Haft. Now, what news?

Me. Weft of this foreft, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly form comes on the enemy:

And by the ground they hide, I judge their number
Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thousand.

Mowb. The juft proportion that we gave them out.
Let us fway on, and face them in the field.

SCENE II. Enter Weftmorland. York. What well-appointed leader fronts us here? Mob. I think it is my Lord of Westmorland. Weft. Health and fair greeting from our General, The Prince, Lord John, and Duke of Lancaster! York. Say on, my Lord of Westmorland, in peace : What doth concern your coming?

Weft. Then, my Lord,

Unto your Grace do I in chief addrefs

The fubftance of my speech. If that rebellion
Came like it felf, in bafe and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary;
I fay, if damn'd Commotion fo appear'd
In his true, native, and moft proper shape,
You, reverend father, and thefe noble Lords,
Had not been here to drefs the ugly form

of

Of bafe and bloody infurrection

With your fair honours. You, my Lord Arch-bishop,
Whofe See is by a civil peace maintain'd,

Whose beard the filver hand of peace hath touch'd,
Whofe learning and good letters peace hath tutor❜d,
Whose white investments figure innocence,
The Dove and very bleffed Spirit of peace;
Wherefore do you fo ill tranflate your felf,
Out of the fpeech of peace, that bears fuch grace,
Into the harsh and boift'rous tongue of war?
Turning your books to glaives, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?

York. Wherefore do I this? fo the queftion ftands.
Briefly to this end: we are all difeas'd,
And with our furfeiting and wanton hours,
Have brought our felves into a burning feaver,
And we must bleed for it: of which difeafe
Our late King Richard being infected, dy'd.
But, my most noble Lord of Westmorland,
I take not on me here as a phyfician :
Nor do I as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men :
But rather fhew a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, fick of happiness,
And purge th' obftructions which begin to ftop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd

What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we fuffer,
And find our griefs heavier than our offences.
We fee which way the ftream of time doth run,
And are inforc'd from our most quiet sphere,
By the rough torrent of occafion;

And have the fummary of all our griefs,
When time fhall ferve, to fhew in articles;
Which long ere this we offer'd to the King,
And might by no fuit gain our audience.

When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs,
We are deny'd accefs unto his perfon,

Ev'n by those men that most have done us wrong.

The