Fal. I would it were otherwife: I would, my means were greater, and my wafte flenderer.

Ch. Juft. You have mif-led the youthful Prince. Fal. The young Prince hath mis-led me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog.

Ch. Juft. Well, I'm loth to gall a new heal'd wound; your day's fervice at Shrewsbury hath a little gilded over your night's exploit on Gads-hill. You may thank the unquiet time, for your quiet o'er pofting that action. Fal. My lord

Ch. Juft. But fince all is well, keep it fo: wake not a fleeping Wolf.

Fal. To wake a Wolf, is as bad as to fmell a Fox.

Ch. Juft. What? you are as a candle, the better part burnt out.

Fal. A waffel candle, my lord; all tallow: but if I did fay of wax, my growth would approve the truth. Ch. Juft. There is not a white hair on your face, but should have his effect of gravity.

Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy gravy.

Ch. Juft. (5) You follow the young Prince up and down, like his ill angel.

Fal. Not fo, my lord, your angel is light: but I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me without weighing; and yet, in fome refpects, I grant, I cannot

(5) You follow the young Prince up and down like bis evil Angel.] What a precious Collator has Mr. Pope approv'd himfelf in this Paffage! Befides, if This were the true Reading, Falfaff could not have made the witty and humourous Evafion he has done in his Reply. I have reftor'd the Reading of the oldeft Quarto. The Lord Chief Juftice calls Falftaff the Prince's ill Angel or Genius: which Falfaff turns off by faying, an ill Angel (meaning the Coin call'd an Angel) is light; but, furely, it can't be faid that He wants Weight: ergo,- the Inference is obvious. Now Money may be call'd ill, or bad; but it is never call'd evil, with Regard to its being under Weight. This Mr. Pope will facetiously call reftoring loft Puns: But if the Author wrote a Pun, and it happens to be loft in an Editor's Indolence, I thall, in fpite of his Grimace, venture at bringing it back to Light.

go;

go; I cannot tell; Virtue is of fo little regard in thefe cofter-mongers' days, that true valour is turned bear-herd. Pregnancy is made a tapfter, and hath his quick wit wafted in giving reckonings; all the other gifts appertinent to man, as the malice of this age fhapes them, are not worth a goofe-berry. You, that are old, confider not the capacities of us that are young; you measure the heat of our Livers, with the bitterness of your Galls; and we that are in the va-ward of our youth, I must confefs, are wags too.

Ch. Juft. Do you fet down your name in the fcrowl of youth, that are written down old, with all the characters of age? have you not a moist eye? a dry hand ? a yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreafing leg? an increafing belly? is not your voice broken? your wind fhort? your chin double? your wit fingle? and every part about you blafted with antiquity? and will you yet call your felf young? fie, fie, fie, Sir John.

Fal. My lord, I was born about three of the clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and something a round belly. For my voice, I have loft it with hallowing and finging of Anthems. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am only old in judgment and understanding, and he, that will caper with me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the money, and have at him. For the box o' th' ear that the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it like a fenfible lord. I have checkt him for it; and the young Lion repents: marry, not in afhes and fack-cloth, but in new filk and old fack.

Ch. Juft. Well, heav'n fend the Prince a better Com panion!

Fal. Heav'n fend the companion a better Prince! I cannot rid my hands of him.

Ch. Juft. Well, the King hath fever'd you and Prince Harry. I hear, you are going with lord John of Lancaster, against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland.

Fal. Yes, I thank your pretty fweet wit for it; but lock you, pray, all you that kifs my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day: for, by the Lord,

I take but two fhirts out with me, and I mean not to fweat extraordinarily: if it be a hot day, if I brandish any thing but a bottle, would I might never fpit white again. There is not a dangerous action can peep out his head, but I'm thrust upon it. Well, I cannot laft ever. 'but it was always yet the trick of our Engli Nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If ye will needs fay, I am an old man, you should give me Reft: I would to God, my name were not fo terrible to the enemy as it is! I were better to be eaten to death with a ruft, than to be scour'd to nothing with perpetual motion.

3

Ch. Juft. Well, be honest, be honeft, and heav'n blefs your expedition!

Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound,

to furnish me forth?

Ch. Juft. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear croffes. Fare you well. Commend me to my coufin Westmorland.

[Exit. A

Ful. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle man can no more feparate age and covetoufnefs, than he can part young limbs and letchery: but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other, and fo both the degrees prevent my curfes. Boy, Page. Sir?

Fal. What money is in my purse?

Page. Seven groats and two pence.

Fal. I can get no remedy against this confumption of the purfe. Borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the difeafe is incurable. Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster, this to the Prince, this to the Earl of Weftmorland, and this to old Mrs. Urfula, whom I have weekly fworn to marry fince I perceived the first white hair on my chin. About it; you know where to find me. A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or t'other, plays the rogue with my great toe: it is no matter, if I do halt, I have the wars for my colour, and my penfion shall seem the more reasonable: a good wit will make use of any thing; I will turn difeafes to commodity. [Exeunt. SCENE

SCENE changes to the Archbishop of York's

Palace.

Enter Archbishop of York, Haftings, Thomas Mowbray (Earl Marshal) and Lord Bardolph.

HUS have you heard our caufe, and know

York. TH

Our means:

Now, my moft noble friends, I pray you all,
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes;
And firft, Lord Marshal, what say you to it?

Mowb. I well allow th' occafion of our arms,
But gladly would be better satisfied

How in our means we fhould advance our felves,
To look with forehead bold and big enough
Upon the pow'r and puiffance of the King?
Haft. Our prefent mufters grow upon the file
To five and twenty thousand men of choice;
And our Supplies live largely in the hope
Of great Northumberland whose bosom burns
With an incenfed fire of injuries.

Bard. The queftion then, lord Haftings, ftandeth thus ;
Whether our prefent five and twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland ?
Haft. With him we may.

Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point:
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is, we fhould not step too far
Till we had his affiftance by the hand.
For in a theam fo bloody-fac'd as this,
Conjecture, expectation, and furmife,

Of aids uncertain, should not be admitted.

York. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed,

It was young Hot-fpur's cafe at Shrewsbury,

Bard. It was, my lord, who lin'd himself with hope,

Eating the air, on promife of Supply;

Flatt'ring himself with project of a Power

Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts;

And fo, with great imagination,

Proper to madmen, led his Pow'rs to death,

I 4

And,

And winking, leap'd into deftruction.

Haft. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.

Bard. Yes, if this prefent quality of war
Impede the inftant act; a caufe on foot
Lives fo in hope, as in an early Spring

We fee th' appearing buds; which, to prove fruit,
Hope gives not fo much warrant, as Despair,
That frofts will bite them. When we mean to build,
We firft furvey the plot, then draw the model;
And when we see the figure of the house,
Then must we rate the coft of the erection ;
Which, if we find out-weighs ability,
What do we then but draw a-new the model

In fewer offices? at leaft, defift

To build at all? much more, in this great Work,
(Which is almoft to pluck a Kingdom down,
And fet another up) fhould we furvey

The plot of fituation, and the model;
Confent upon a fure foundation,

Queftion 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 inftead 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 coft
A naked fubject to the weeping clouds,

And wafte for churlifh winter's tyranny.

HA. Grant, that our hopes, yet likely of fair birth,

Should be ftill-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 fo much, lord Bar

dolph.

For his divifions, as the times do brawl,

Are