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. 'Tis 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 Archbishop's

Palace

Enter the Archbishop of YORK, the Lords HASTINGS, MOWBRAY, and BARDOLPH

Arch. Thus have you heard our cause and known

our means;

And, iny most noble friends, I pray you all
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes :--
And first, lord marshal, what say you to it?

Mowb. I well allow the occasion of our arms;

But gladly would be better satisfied

How, in our means, we should 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 incensed 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
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts:
And so, with great imagination,

Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,
And winking leaped into destruction.

Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did hurt
To lay down likelihoods and forms of hope.
L. Bard. Yes, if this present quality of war,
Indeed the instant action: a cause on foot,
Lives so in hope as in an early spring

We see the appearing buds; which to prove fruit, Hope gives not so much warrant as despair

That frosts will bite them. When we mean to

build,

We first survey the plot, then draw the model;

And when we see the figure of the house,

Then must we rate the cost of the erection,
Which if we find outweighs ability,

What do we then, but draw anew the model

In fewer offices, or, at least, desist

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,

Consent upon a sure foundation,

Question surveyors, know our own estate,
How able such a work to undergo,

To weigh against his opposite; or else
We fortify in paper and in figures,

Using the names of men instead of men :

Like one that draws the model of a house
Beyond his power to build it; who, half through,
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost

A naked subject to the weeping clouds
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny.

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

Should be still-born, and that we now possessed
The utmost man of expectation;

I think we are a body strong enough,

Even as we are, to equal with the king.

L. Bard. What, is the king but five-and-twenty 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

Must take up us: so is the unfirm king

In three divided; and his coffers sound

With hollow poverty and emptiness.

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 unarmed, the French and

Welsh

Baying him at the heels: never fear that.

L. Bard. Who is it like should lead his forces

hither?

Hast. The Duke of Lancaster and Westmore

land:

Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; But who is substituted 'gainst the French,

I have no certain notice.

Arch.

Let us on,

And publish the occasion of our arms.

The commonwealth is sick of their own choice;

Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.—

An habitation giddy and unsure

Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

O thou fond many! with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke,
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be!
And being now trimmed in thine own desires,