Fal. I am as poor as Job, my Lord, but not fo patient. Your Lordship may minifter the potion of imprisonment to me, in refpect of poverty;--but how I fhould be your patient to follow your prescriptions, the wife may make fome dram of a fcruple; or, indeed, a scruple itself. Ch. Just. I fent for you when there were matters against you for your life, to speak with me. Fal. As I was then advised by my learned counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did not come. Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, Sir John, you live in great infamy. Fal. He that buckles him in my belt, cannot live in lefs. Ch. Just. Your means are very flender, and your wafte great. Fal. I would it were otherwife. I would my means were greater, and my waist flenderer. Ch. Just. You have misled the young Prince. Fal. The young Prince hath misled me. I am the fellow with the great belly, and he my dog. Ch. Just. You follow the Prince цр and down, like his bad angel. Fal. Not fo, my Lord; your bad angel is light: C 2 light: but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will take me without weighing.---My Lord, you that are old, confider not the capacities of us that are young. Ch. Just. Do you fet down your name in the fcroll of youth, that are marked old with all the characters of age? Have you not a moift eye?-a dry hand?-a yellow cheek?-a white beard?→→→ a decreafing leg ?-an increafing belly?--Is not your voice broken ?---your wind short?---your chin double?-your wit fingle ?-and every part about you blasted with antiquity?—and will you call yourself young? Fie, fie, fie, Sir John! Fal. My Lord, I was born with a white head, and fomething a round belly. To approve my youth further, I will not. The truth is, I am old only in judgment and in 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'the ear, which the Prince gave you, he gave it like a rude Prince, and you took it like a fenfible Lord. I have checked him for it, and the young lion repents; marry, not in ashes and fackcloth; but in new filk and old fack. Ch. Just. Well, Heaven fend the Prince a better companion! Fal. Heaven fend the companion a better Prince! I cannot rid my hands of him. Ch. Just. Ch. Just. Well, the King has fevered 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 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 I take but two fhirts out with me, and I mean not to be extraordinarily warm. If it be a hot day, an I brandifh any thing but this bottle, (pulling out a pocket bottle) let the enemy make a carbonado of me! There is not a dangerous action can peep out its head, but I am thruft upon it. Well, I cannot last for ever: but it was always the trick of the English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common. If you fay I am an old man, you should give me rest. I would my name were not fo terrible to the enemy as it is! I were better to be eaten to death with ruft, than to be fcoured to nothing with perpetual motion. Ch. Just. Well, be honest, be honeft! and Heaven bless your expedition! Fal. Will your Lordship lend me a thousand pounds, to furnish me forth? Ch. Just. Not a penny-not a penny. You are too impatient to bear croffes. Fare you well: Commend me to my coufin Westmoreland. (Exit with ATTENDANT.) Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. A man can no more feparate old age and covetoufness, than he can part youth and wantonness. But the gout galls the one, and difeafe makes the other miferable.-Boy! Page. Sir! Fal. What money is in my purse? Fal. I can get no remedy against this confump tion 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, and this to the Earl of Weftmoreland. (Exit PAGE.) A plague of this gout, for it plays the with my rogue foot. It is no matter if I do halt: I have the wars for my color, and my penfion fhall feem the more reasonable. A good wit will make ufe of any thing; I will turn a difeafe to good advantage. (Exit.) SCENE IN. The Archbishop of York's Palace. ARCHBISHOP, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS. York. Thus have you heard our caufe, and known our means. And, And, my most noble friends, I pray you all Mow. Our prefent mufters grow upon the file Hast. But if without him we be thought too My judgment is, we should not ftep too far, Of aids uncertain, fhould not be admitted. York. Thus lately Hotfpur lin'd himself with hope, His pow'rs to death, and leap'd into deftruction. Lives yet in promife, as in early spring, We see the swelling buds; which, to prove fruit, A naked 1 |