Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shal-As might hold sortances with his quality, low. God keep you, master Silence; I will not The which he could not levy; whereupon use many words with you :-Fare you well, gentle-He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes, men both: I thank you: I must a dozen mile to-To Scotland: and concludes in hearty prayers, night.-Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. That your attempts may overlive the hazard, And fearful meeting of their opposite.

Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch
ground,

And dash themselves to pieces.
Enter a Messenger.

Hast.
Now, what news?
Mess. West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly form comes on the enemy:
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number,
Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thousand.
Mowb. The just proportion that we gave them

out.

Let us sway on, and face them in the field.
Enter Westmoreland.

Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us
here?

Mowb. I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland.
West. Health and fair greeting from our general,
The prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster.
Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in
What doth concern your coming?
peace;
West.

Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure, I will with you to the court. Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you well. [Exeunt Shallow and Silence. Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt Bardolph, Recruits, &c.] As I return, I will fetch off these justices: I do see the bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying! This same starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbullstreet; and every third word a lie, duer paid to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do remember him at Clement's-Inn, like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions to any thick sight were invisible: he was the very genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him-mandrake: he came ever in the rear-Unto your grace do I in chief address ward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the The substance of my speech. If that rebellion over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen Came like itself, in base and abject routs, whistle, and sware-they were his fancies, or his Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage, good-nights.2 And now is this Vice's daggers be- And countenanc'd by boys, and beggary; come a squire; and talks as familiarly of John of I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd, Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him: In his true, native, and most proper shape, and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the You, reverend father, and these noble lords, Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head, for crowd- Had not been here, to dress the ugly form ing among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told Of base and bloody insurrection John of Gaunt, he beat his own name : 5 for you With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop,-might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd; eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a man- Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd; sion for him, a court; and now has he land and Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor❜d; beeves. Well; I will be acquainted with him, if Whose white investments figure innocence, I return: and it shall go hard, but I will make him The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,a philosopher's two stones to me: If the young dace Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself, be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace, law of nature, but I may snap at him. Let time Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war? shape, and there an end. [Exit. Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood, Your pens to lances; and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?

Arch. What is this forest call'd?
Hast. 'Tis Gualtree forest, an't shall please
your grace.

Arch. Here stand, my lords; and send discov-
erers forth,

To know the numbers of our enemies.
Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch.

'Tis well done.
My friends, and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenour and substance, thus:-
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers

(1) In Clerkenwell. (2) Titles of little poems. (3) A wooden dagger like that used by the modern harlequin.

Then, my lord,

Arch. Wherefore do I this?-so the question
stands.

Briefly to this end :-We are all diseas'd;
And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever,
And we must bleed for it: of which disease
But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland,
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
I take not on me here as a physician;
Nor do I, as an enemy to peace,
Troop in the throngs of military men:
But, rather, show a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness:
And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we
suffer,

And find our griefs heavier than our offences.

We see which way the stream of time doth run,
And are enforc'd from our most quiet sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion:
And have the summary of all our griefs,
When time shall serve, to show in articles;
Which, long ere this, we offer'd to the king,
And might by no suit gain our audience :
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our griefs,
We are denied access unto his person,
Even by those men that most have done us wrong.
The dangers of the days but newly gone
(Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet-appearing blood,) and the examples
Of every minute's instance (present now,)
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms:
Not to break peace, or any branch of it;
But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.
West. When ever yet was your appeal denied?
Wherein have you been galled by the king?
What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you?
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine,
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?

Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth,
To brother born a household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particular.

West. There is no need of any such redress;
Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.
Mowb. Why not to him, in part; and to us all,
That feel the bruises of the days before;
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours?

West.
O my good lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say indeed,-it is the time,
And not the king, that doth you injuries.
Yet, for your part, it not appears to me,
Either from the king, or in the present time,
That you should have an inch of any ground
To build a grief on: Were you not restor'd
To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories,
Your noble and right-well-remember'd father's?
Mowb. What thing, in honour, had my father lost,
That need to be reviv'd, and breath'd in me?
The king, that lov'd him, as the state stood then,
Was, force perforce, compell'd to banish him:
And then, when Harry Bolingbroke, and he,-
Being mounted, and both rous'd in their seats,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
Their armed staves! in charge, their beavers2 down,
Their eyes s of fire sparkling through sights of steel,
And the loud trumpet blowing them together;
Then, then, when there was nothing could have staid
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke,
O, when the king did throw his warder4 down,
His own life hung upon the staff he threw :
Then threw he down himself; and all their lives,
That, by indictment, and by dint of sword,
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.
West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know
not what :

The earl of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman;

Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, and
love,

Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd, and grac'd indeed, more than the king.
But this is mere digression from my purpose.—
Here come I from our princely general,
To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace,
That he will give you audience: and wherein
It shall appear that your demands are just,
You shall enjoy them; every thing set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this

offer:

And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. Mowbray, you overween,5 to take it so;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
For, lo! within a ken,6 our army lies;
Upon mine honour, all too confident
To give admittance to a thought of fear.
Our battle is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the use of arms,
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
Then reason wills, our hearts should be as good-
Say you not then, our offer is compell'd.

Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no
parley.

West. That argues but the shame of your offence:
A rotten case abides no handling.

Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission,
In very ample virtue of his father,
To hear, and absolutely to determine
Of what conditions we shall stand upon?

West. That is intended in the general's name:

I muse,8 you make so slight a question.
Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this
schedule ;9

For this contains our general grievances :-
Each several article herein redress'd;

All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form;
And present execution of our wills
To us, and to our purposes, consign'd;
We come within our awful banks10 again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general. Please you,
lords,

In sight of both our battles we may meet:
And either end in peace, which heaven so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.
Arch.

My lord, we will do so.
[Exit West.
Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me,
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our

peace

Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason,
Shall, to the king, taste of this action :
That, were our royal faiths 2 martyrs in love,

Who knows, on whom fortune would then have We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,

smil'd?

But, if your father had been victor there,

He ne'er had borne it out of Coventry :

For all the country, in a general voice,

(1) Lances. (2) Helmets,

(3) The eye-holes of helmets. (4) Truncheon. (5) Think too highly. (6) Sight.

That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,
And good from bad find no partition.

Arch. No, no, my lord; Note this,—the king is
weary

(7) Understood. (8) Wonder. (9) Inventory.
(10) Proper limits of reverence.
(11) Trivial.

(12) The faith due to a king.

Of dainty and such picking! grievances:
For he hath found,-to end one doubt by death,
Revives two greater in the heirs of life.
And therefore will he wipe his tables2 clean;
And keep no tell-tale to his memory,
That may repeat and history his loss

To new remembrance: For full well he knows,
He cannot so precisely weed this land,
As his misdoubts present occasion:
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife,
That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes ;
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution.

In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The subjects of his substitute, my father;
And, both against the peace of heaven and him,
Have here up-swarm'd them.

Arch.

Good my lord of Lancaster,

I am not here against your father's peace:
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense,
Crowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form,
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief;

The which hath been with scorn shov'd from the
court,

Whereon this Hydra son of war is born:

Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep,
With grant of our most just and right desires;

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods || And true obedience of this madness cur'd,

On late offenders, that he now doth lack
The very instruments of chastisement:
So that his power, like to a fangless lion,
May offer, but not hold.

Arch.
'Tis very true;—
And therefore be assur'd, my good lord marshal,
If we do now make our atonement well,

Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.

Mowb.

Be it so.

Arch. Before, and greet his grace :-my lord, [Exeunt. SCENE II-Another part of the forest. Enter, from one side, Mowbray, the Archbishop. Hastings, and others: from the other side. Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, officers, and attendants.

Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.

Hast.
And though we here fall down;
We have supplies to second our attempt;
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them:
And So, success of mischief shall be born;
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John. You are too shallow, Hastings, much
too shallow,

To sound the bottom of the after-times.

West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them di

fectly,

How far forth you do like their articles?
P. John. I like them all, and do allow them
well:

And swear here by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been mistook;
And some about him have too lavishly
Wrested his meaning, and authority.-
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
Discharge your powers unto their several coun-

ties,

As we will ours: and here, between the armies, P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;

cousin Mowbray :

Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop ;-
And so to you, lord Hastings,-and to all.-
My lord of York, it better show'd with you,
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your exposition on the holy text;
Than now to see you here an iron man,3
Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
That man, that sits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sunshine of his favour,
Would he abuse the countenance of the king,
Alack, what mischiefs might he set abroach,
In shadow of such greatness! With you, lord bishop,
It is even so:-Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of God?
To us, the speaker in his parliament;
To us, the imagin'd voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings :4 O, who shall believe,
But you misuse the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,

(1) Piddling, insignificant.
(2) Book for memorandums.
(3) Clad in armour.

(4) Labours of thought.

That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity.

Arch. I take your princely word for these re-
dresses.

P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my word:

And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Hast. Go, captain, [To an officer.] and deliver to the army

tain.

This news of peace; let them have pay, and part;
I know, it will well please them: Hie thee, cap-
[Exit Officer.
Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland.
West. I pledge your grace: And, if you knew
what pains

I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.
West.
I am glad of it.-
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy sea-

Mowb. This had been cheerful, after victory.
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest;
For then both parties nobly are subdued,
And neither party loser.

P. John.
Go, my lord,
And, let our army be discharged too.-
[Exit Westmoreland.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us; that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.
Arch.
Go, good lord Hastings,
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.
[Exit Hastings.
P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night
together.-

Re-enter Westmoreland.

Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? West. The leaders, having charge from you to stand,

Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaff?

Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If I do sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death: therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

Cole. I think, you are sir John Falstaff; and, in that thought, yield me.

Fal. I have a whole school of tongues in this belly of mine; and not a tongue of them all speaks any other word but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: My womb, my womb, my womb, undoes me.-Here comes our general. Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, and others.

P. John. The heat is past, follow no further

now ;

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.-
[Exit West.
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When every thing is ended, then you come :
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back.

Fal. I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was the reward of valour. Do you think me a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet? have I, in my poor and old motion, the expedition of thought? I have speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered nine-score and odd posts: and here, travel-tainted as I am, have, in m pure and Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the Like youthful steers2 unyok'd, they take their

Will not go off until they hear you speak.
P. John. They know their duties.

courses

Re-enter Hastings.

:

East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place
West. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for the
which

P. John.

I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason:-
And you, lord archbishop,-and you, lord Mowbray,
Of capital treason I attach you both.
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?
Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
pawn'd thee none:
I promis'd you redress of these same grievances,
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most Christian care.
But, for you, rebels,-look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion, and such acts as yours.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.-
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray;
Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to-day.-
Some guard these traitors to the block of death;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Another part of the Forest.-
Alarums: Excursions. Enter Falstaff and
Colevile, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condition are you; and of what place, I pray?

dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy:
But what of that? he saw me, and yielded; that
I may justly say with the hook-nosed fellow of
Rome,4-I came, saw, and overcame.

P. John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him: and I beseech your grace, let it be booked with the rest of this day's deeds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the top of it, Colevile kissing my foot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt two-pences to me; and I, in the clear sky of fame, o'ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which show like pins' heads to her; believe not the word of the noble: therefore let me have right, and let desert mount.

P. John. Thine's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine then.

P. John. Thine's too thick to shine.
Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that
may do me good, and call it what you will.
P. John. Is thy name Colevile?

Cole.

It is, my lord.
P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
Fal And a famous true subject took him.
Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are,
That led me hither: had they been ruled by me,
You should have won them dearer than you have.
Fal. I know not how they sold themselves: but

Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away; and

Colevile of the dale.

I thank thee for thee.

To York, to present execution :-
Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure.
[Exeunt some with Colevile.

And now despatch we toward the court, my
lords;

I hear, the king my father is sore sick :
Our news shall go before us to his majesty,-
Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him;
And we with sober speed will follow you.
Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to
go through Glostershire: and, when you come to
court, stand my good lord, pray, in your good

report.

P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff: I in my condition,2

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Exit. Fal. I would you had but the wit; 'twere better than your dukedom.-Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor a man cannot make him laugh;-but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never any of these demure boys come to any proof: for thin drink doth 80 over-cool their blood, and making many fishmeals, that they fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and then, when they marry, they get wenches: they are generally fools and cowards;-which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack hath a two-fold operation in it: it ascends me into the brain; dries me there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy vapours which environ it makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er to the voice (the tongue,) which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. The second property of your excellent sherris is,--the warming of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course from the inwards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm and then the vital commoners, and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valour comes of sherris: So that skill in the weapon is nothing, without sack; for that sets it a-work and learning, a mere hoard of gold kept by a devil; till sack commences it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that prince Harry is valiant for the cold blood he did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like lean, steril, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertile sherris, that he is become very hot, and valiant. If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them, should be, to forswear thin potations, and addict themselves

to sack.

SCENE IV-Westminster. A room in the palace. Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince Humphrey, Warwick, and others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give success-
ful end

To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
Our navy is address'd, our power collected,
And every thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength;
Come underneath the yoke of government.
And
pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
War. Both which, we doubt not but your
Shall soon enjoy.
majesty

K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster,
Where is the prince your brother?
P. Humph. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord,
at Windsor.

K. Hen. And how accompanied?
P. Humph.
I do not know, my lord.
K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clar-
ence, with him?

P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence
here.

Cla. What would my lord and father?

K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of How chance, thou art not with the prince thy Clarence.

brother?

He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas;
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy;
Thou hast a better place in his affection,
And noble offices thou may'st effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,
Between his greatness and thy other brethren :-
Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love:
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace,
By seeming cold, or careless of his will.
For he is gracious, if he be observ'd;"
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd:
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin❜d to mirth:
But, being moody, give him line and scope;
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working. Learn this,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
Thomas,
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in;
That the united vessels of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,)
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum, or rash gunpowder.

Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,
Thomas?

Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London.
K. Hen. And how accompanied? canst thou
tell that?

Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers.

K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds;

(6) Ready, prepared.

(7) Has an attention shown him.
(8) Wolf's-bane, a poisonous herb.