The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

in the Tilt-yard; and there he burst his head, for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt. he beat his own name:t for you might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble haut-boy 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 ine: 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. [Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I-A Forest in Yorkshire.
Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY,
HASTINGS, and others.

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

your grace.

Arch. Here stand, my lords, ; and send dis-
coverers forth.

To know the numbers of our enemies.
Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch. 'Tis well done.

Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd;
Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath
touch';
[tor'd:
Whose learning and good letters peace hath tu
Whose white investments figure innocence,
Te dove and very blessed pirit of peace,-
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such
grace,

Unto the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war?
Turning your books to the graves, your ink to
blood,

Your pens to lances: and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?

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
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died.
But, my most noble lord of Westemorland,
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; [stop
And purge the obstructions, which begin to
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.

What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs

we uffer,

My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that have receiv'd
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance thus:-I have in equal balance justly weigh'd
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers
As might hold sortance‡ with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland: and concludes in licarty prayers,
That your attempts may overlive the hazard,
And fearful meeting of their opposite.
Mowb. Thus do the ho, es 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

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

Enter WESTMORELAND.

Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us here?

Moub. 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
What doth concern your coning?
West. Then, my lord,

[peace;

Unto your grace do I in chief address.
The substance of my speech If that rebellion
Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rag,
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary ;
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd,
In his true, native, and most proper shape,
You, reverend father, and these noble lords.
Had not been here, to dress the ugly form
Of base and bloody insurrection bishop.
With your fair honours. You, lord arch-

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
We are denied access unto his person griefs,
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 de-

nied?

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 common-
wealth,

To brother born an household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particulars

West. There is no need of any such redress;
Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.

Mowb. Why not to him, in par; and to us
That feel the bruises of he days before; [all,
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 time to teir 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,

* Grievances.

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?
Moub. 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 roused in their seats,
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur,
Their armed staves* in charge, their beaverst
down,
[steel,
Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights of
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 warder 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;
Who knows, on whom fortune would then
have 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,
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.
Mob. But he hath forc'd us to compel this
And it proceeds from policy, not love. [offer;
West. Mowbray, you overween, to take it

so;

Tis offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
For, lo! within a ken, 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

Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this schedule ;*

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 bankst 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. Mob. 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

[tains.

Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky moun-
Moub. 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 martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,
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

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 tables 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.

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his

SCENE II-Another part of the Forest, Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, the ARCHBISHOP, HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, Prince Joux of Lancaster, WESTMORE LAND, Officers and Attendants.

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousm Mowbray:

Good day to you, gentle lord Archbishop ;-
At so to you, lord Hasting--and o all.-
My lord of York, it better show'd with you,
When that your flock, assembled by the bell,
Ene reled you, to hear with reverence
Yo ir exposition on the holy text;
Than now to see you here an iron man,*
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,
A ack, 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:† 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,
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,
Croud 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;
And tru obedience of this madness cur'd,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mob. If not, we ready are to try our for

To the last man.

[tunes

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 in schief shall be born;
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shali 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
directly,

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 re-
dress'd;
[you,
Upon my soul, they shall If this may please
Discharge your powerst unto the several coun-
[mies
As we will ours: and here, between the ar-
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home.
Of our restored love, and amity.

ties,

Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses.

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

to-morrow.

be true.

Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule
[Shouts within.
P. John. The word of peace is render'd;
Hark, how they shout!

Moub. 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.--
And, good my lord, so please you, let our
[Exit WESTMORELAND.
trainst

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.
[Exil HASTINGS.
P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-
night together.-

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

Re-enter HASTINGS.

Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already: Like youthful steers* unyok'd, they take their

Courses

up,

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

I do arrest, thee, traitor, of high treason:And you, lord archbishop,-and you, lord Mowbray,

Of capital treason I attach you' oth.

Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?

West. Is your assembly so?

Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
P. John I 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 Christain 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 throught here, and foolishly sent hence,
Strike up our drums, pursue, the scatter'd stray;
Heaven, and not we, have safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors o the block of death;
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III-Another part of the Forest. Alarums: Excursions. inter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting;

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

Cole. I am a knight, Sir; and my name isColevile of the dale.

Fa! Well then, Colevile is your name; a knight is your degree; and your place, the dale Colevile shall still be your name; a traitor your degree; and the dungeon your place, -a place deep enough; so shall you still be Colevile of the dale.

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 bit m

name. An I

had but a belly of any inditerency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: My womb,my womb,my wombundoes me.-Here comes our general.

Enter Prince Jour of Lancaster, WESTMORE LAND, and others.

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

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, traveltainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colevile of the 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,I came, saw, and over

came.

P John. It was more of his courtesy than your deserv ng.

Fal. I know not; here he is, and here I yield him: and i beseech your grace, let it be looked with the rest of this day's d eds; or, by the Lord, I will have it in a particular balled else, with mine own picture on the top o it, Colevile kissing my foot: To the which course if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt towpences to me; and 1, in the clear sky of fame, o ershine you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the clement, 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 ?

Fal. It is my lord.

P. John. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile. Fat. And a famous true subject took him. Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are, That led me hither: had they been rul'd by me You should have won them dearer than you have.

Fal 1 know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away; and I thank thee for thee.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

P. John Now, have you left pursuit?

West. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. P. John. Send Colevile,with his confederates, To York, to present execution:-Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guas d him

sur. [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 ord, I beseech you, give me leave to go through Glostershire: and when you come to court, stand my good lord,t 'pray, in your good report.

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

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. Exit.

Fl. 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 came to any proof: for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals, that they

* Cæsar.

Stand my good friend. In my present temper.

K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence with him?

P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in pre-
sence here.

Cla. What would my lord and father?
K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas
of Clarence.

How chance, thou art not with the prince thy
brother?
[Thomas;

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 had 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 defectable shapes; which delivered He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, o'er to the voice, (the tongue,) which is the Thou hast a better place in his affection, birth, becomes excellent wit. The second pro-Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy; perty of your excellent sherris is, the warm- And noble offices thou may'st effect ing of the blood; which, before cold and Of meditation, after I am dead, [thren:settled, left the liver white and pale, which is Between his greatness and thy other brethe badge of pusillanimity and cowardice: Therefore, omit him not; blunt not his love: but the sherris warms it, and makes it course Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, from the inwards to the parts extreme. It By seeming cold, or careless of his will. illumineth the face; which, as a beacon, gives For he is gracious, if he be observ'd ;* warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, He hath a tear for pity, and a hand man, to arm: and then the vital commoners, Open as day for melting charity: [flint: and inland petty spirits, muster me all to their Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's captain, the heart; who, great, and puffed up As humourous as winter, and as sudden with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; As flaws congealed in the spring of day. and this valour comes of sherris: So that skill His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd: in the weapon is nothing, without sack; for Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, that sets it a work: and learning,a mere hoard When you perc ive his blood inclin'd to mirth: of gold kept by a devil; till sack commences But, being moody, give him line and scope: it,t and sets it in act and use. Hereof comes Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, it, that prince Harry is valiant: for the cold Confound themselves with working. Learn blood he did naturally inherit of his father, this, Thomas, he hath, like lean, te il, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour of drinking good, and good store of fertil. 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 foreswear thin potations, and addict themselves to sack.

palace.

And thou shalt pro e a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ;
That the united vessels of their blood,
Vingled 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.

Clu. 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? can'st
thou tell that ?

Cla. With Poins, and other his contitnual followers.

K. Hen. 'ost subject is the fattest soil to weeds;

And he the noble image of my youth,

Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, Prince HUM-Is overspread with them Therefore my grief.

PHREY, WARWICK, and others.

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give
successful 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 navy is address'd, our power collected,
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And ev ry thing lies level to our wish:
Only, we want a little personal strength;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot
Come underneath the yoke of government.
War. Both which, we doubt not but your
majesty

shall soon enjoy.

Stretches itself beyond the hour of death;
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare: From the Text of ..., Volume 1