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 starv'd justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about Turnbull-street; 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 fork'd 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 call'd him--mandrake he came ever in the rearward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the over-scutch'd huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware--they were his fancies, or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire; and talks as familiarly of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother' to him: and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once in the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head, for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name: for you night have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves. Well; I will be acquainted with him, if I return and it shall go hard, but I will make him a philosopher's two stones to me: If the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no reason, in the law of nature, but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. ACT IV. SCENE I A Forest in Yorkshire. Enter the Archbishop of York, MOWERAY, Arch. What is this forest call'd? Hast. 'Tis Gualtree forest, an't shall please your Grace. Arch. Here stand, my Lords; and send dis- To know the numbers of our enemies. My friends, and brethren in these great affairs, That your attempts may overlive the hazard, Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him 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 ge neral, The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. Arch. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace; What doth concern your coming? West. Then, my Lord, Unto your Grace do I in chief address f 1 I say, if damu'd commotion so appear'd, With your fair honours. You Lord Archbishop,Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd; Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd; Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor❜d; Whose white investments figure innocence, Arch. Wherefore do I this? - so the question Briefly to this end:- -We are all diseas'd; Nor do I, as an enemy to peace, And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offences, bud And have the summary of all our griefs, We are denied access unto his person Even by those men that most have done us wrong. West. When ever yet was your appeal de- Wherein have you been galled by the King? And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother born an 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; |