Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honest; and heaven bless your expedition! Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand pound, to furnish me forth? Ch. Just. Not a penny, not a penny; you are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you well : commend me to my cousin Westmoreland. [Exeunt CHIEF JUSTICE and Attendant. Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more separate age and covetousness, than he can part young limbs and lechery: but the gout galls the one, and the pox pinches the other; and so both the degrees prevent my curses. -Boy! Page. Sir? Fal. What money is in my purse Page. Seven groats and two-pence. Fal. I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. Go bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; this to the prince; this to the earl of Westmoreland; and this to old mistress Ursula, whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I perceived the first white hair on my chin : about it; you know where to find me. [Exit Page.] A pox of this gout! or, a gout of this pox! for the one, or the 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 pension shall seem the more reasonable a good wit will make use of anything; I will turn diseases to commodity. : [Exit. SCENE III.-York. A Room in the Arch bishop's Palace. Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the Lords HASTINGS, MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH. Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and know our means; And, my most noble friends, I pray you all, Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms; But gladly would be better satisfied How, in our means, we shall advance ourselves To look with forehead bold and big enough Upon the power and puissance of the king. Hast. Our present musters 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 incensèd fire of injuries. L. Bard. The question then, lord Hastings, standeth thus; Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand May hold up head without Northumberland. Hast. With him we may. L. Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point; But if without him we be thought too feeble, My judgment is, we should not step too far Till we had his assistance by the hand: For, in a theme so bloody-faced as this, Conjecture, expectation, and surmise Of aids incertain, should not be admitted. Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, indeed, It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. L. Bard. It was, my lord; who lined 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, Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair What do we then, but draw anew the model To build at all? Much more, in this great work, (Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down, And set another up,) should we survey The plot of situation, and the model; Question surveyors; know our own estate, A naked subject to the weeping clouds, Hast. Grant that our hopes (yet likely of fair birth) Should be still-born, and that we now possess'd I think we are a body strong enough, L. Bard. What! is the king but five-andtwenty 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, And one against Glendower; perforce, a third 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. L. Bard. ho, is it like, should lead his forces hither? Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and Westmoreland: Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth : But who is substituted 'gainst the French, Arch. Let us on; And publish the occasion of our arms. Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. Before he was what thou wouldst have him be! And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, times? They that when Richard lived would have him die, Are now become enamour'd on his grave: worst. Mowb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? Hast. We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone. [Exeunt. |