HASTINGS. The Duke of Lancaster and Westmoreland; Against the Welsh, himself and Harry Monmouth; But who is substituted ’gainst the French I have no certain notice. ARCHBISHOP. 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 trimm’d in thine own desires, Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him That thou provok’st thyself to cast him up. So, so, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard; And now thou wouldst eat thy dead vomit up, And howl’st to find it. What trust is in these times? They that, when Richard lived, would have him die Are now become enamour’d on his grave. Thou that threw’st dust upon his goodly head When through proud London he came sighing on After th’ admired heels of Bolingbroke, Criest now “O earth, yield us that king again, And take thou this!” O thoughts of men accursed! Past and to come seems best; things present, worst. MOWBRAY. Shall we go draw our numbers, and set on? HASTINGS. We are time’s subjects, and time bids be gone. [_Exeunt._] ACT II SCENE I. London. A street. Enter Hostess with two Officers, Fang and Snare, following. HOSTESS. Master Fang, have you entered the action? FANG. It is entered. HOSTESS. Where’s your yeoman? Is ’t a lusty yeoman? Will he stand to ’t? FANG. Sirrah, where’s Snare? HOSTESS. O Lord, ay! Good Master Snare. SNARE. Here, here. FANG. Snare, we must arrest Sir John Falstaff. HOSTESS. Yea, good Master Snare, I have entered him and all. SNARE. It may chance cost some of our lives, for he will stab. HOSTESS. Alas the day, take heed of him. He stabbed me in mine own house, and that most beastly, in good faith. He cares not what mischief he does, if his weapon be out, he will foin like any devil. He will spare neither man, woman, nor child. FANG. If I can close with him, I care not for his thrust. HOSTESS. No, nor I neither. I’ll be at your elbow. FANG. An I but fist him once, an he come but within my vice,—