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 Gall; and we that are in the vaward of our youth, I must confess, are wags too. Ch. Juft. Do you fet down your name in the scrowl of youth, that are written down old, with all the characters of age? have you not a moift eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a white beard? a decreasing 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 yourself 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 fomething 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, Tam 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 ashes and fack-cloth, but in new filk and old fack. Ch. Juft. Well, heav'n fend the Prince a better Companion! 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 Lancafter, against the Archbishop and the Earl of Northumberland. Fal. Yes, I thank your pretty sweet wit for it; but look you, pray, all you that kifs my lady Peace at home, that our armies join not in a hot day: for, by the 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 brandifh 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 am thrust upon it. Well, I cannot last ever.— -but it was always yet the trick of our English 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 fcour'd to nothing with perpetual motion. Ch. Juft. Well, be honest, be honest, and heav'n bless 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. Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetleA 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 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 Westmorland, 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 with my great toe: it is no matter, if I do halt, I have the wars for my colour, and my penfion fhall seem the more reasonable: a good wit will make use of any thing; I will turn defeases to commodity. [Exeunt. Changes to the Archbishop of York's Palace. Enter Archbishop of York, Hastings, Thomas Mowbray (Earl Marshal) and Lord Bardolph. HUS have you heard our caufe, and know York. T our means: Now, my most noble friends, I pray you all, Mowb. I well allow th' occafions of our arms, How in our means we should advance ourselves, [thus; Bard. The queftion then, lord Haftings, ftandeth Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point: York. 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 Proper to madmen, led his Pow'rs to death, Haft. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt We fee th' appearing buds; which, to prove fruit, 7 That frofts will bite them. When we mean to build, What do we then but draw a-new the model To build at all? much more, in this great Work, The plot of fituation, and the model; Queftion furveyors, know our own eftate, Beyond his pow'r to build it: who, half through, Haft. Hoft. 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.. [fand? Bard. What, is the King but five and twenty thouHaft. To us, no more; nay, not fo much, lord Bardolph. For his divifions, as the times do brawl, Are in three heads; one Pow'r against the French, In three divided; and his coffers found York. That he should draw his fev'ral ftrengths together, And come against us in full puiffance, Haft. If he should do so, He leaves his back unarm'd, the French and Welsh Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces hither? York. Let us on: And publish the occafion of our arms. The Commonwealth is fick of their own choice; An habitation giddy and unfure Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart.: So, |