Came like itself, in base and abject routs,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary;
I say, if vile 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
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,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself,
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war?
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. Wherefore do I this? so the question stands,
Briefly to this end:
- We are all diseased;
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 Westmoreland,
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, 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, 7 Grievances.

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 roused in their seats, Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down, Their eyes 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 warder 8 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.
Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. Mowbray, you overween 9, to take it so;
This 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 arins,
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 muse3, you make so slight a question.

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 banks 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, nice1, 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.

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.

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my 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,
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 be 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 heaven?
To us, the speaker in his parliament;

To us, the imagin'd voice of heaven itself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,

is weary

Of dainty and such picking 5 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 6 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 bath wasted all his rods 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.

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 heaven,
The subjects of heaven's substitute, my father;
And, both against the peace of heaven,
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;
And true obedience of this madness cur'd
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 7 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 directly, How far-forth you do like their articles?

7 Succession. Ee

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 counties,
As we will ours: and here, between the armies
Let's drink together friendly, and embrace;
That all their eyes may bear those tokens home,
Of our restored love, and amity.

Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses.
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

This news of peace; let them have
and part:
pay,
I know it will well please them; Hie thee, captain.
[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 season;
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event, West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden

how they shout!

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?

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 9 brought 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 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?

Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colevile of the dale.

Fal. 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; a place deep enough; and the dungeon your place, 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 but my name. An I had but a belly of any indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in Europe: :- Here comes our general.

stand,

Will not go off until they hear you speak.

P. John. They know their duties.

Re-enter HASTINGS.

Hast. My lord, our army is dispers'd already: Like vouthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses Last, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries towards his home, and sporting-place.

8 Approve.

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 my pure and immaculate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the dale, a most furious knight, and valorous enemy:

9 Foolishly.

:

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 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'ershining you as much as the full moon doth the cinders of the element, which shew 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 will.
P. John. Is thy name Colevile ?
Cole.

you

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 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 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,

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 so over cool their blood, they are generally fools and cowards; which some of us should be too, but for inflammation. A good sherris-sack bath a twofold 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 3, 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 it1, and sets it in act and use. Hercof 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.

5 An allusion to the old use of sealing with soft wax. 6 Ready, prepared.

Thon hast a better place in his affection,
Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy;
And noble offices thou mayst 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 7;
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
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd:
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,
Thomas,

And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends;
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in;
That the united vessel 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 8, 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; And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death; The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, In forms imaginary, the unguided days, And rotten times, that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors. For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors, When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay!

War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite: The prince but studies his companions, Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the language, 'Tis needful that the most immodest word Be look'd upon, and learn'd: which once attain'd, Your highness knows, comes to no further use, But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms, The prince will, in the perfectness of time, Cast off his followers: and their memory Shall as a pattern or a measure live,

By which his grace must mete the lives of others; Turning past evils to advantages.

K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb

In the dead carrion. - Who's here? Westmoreland?

Enter WESTMORELAND.

West. Health to my sovereign! and new happiness Added to that that I am to deliver!

Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's hand:

7 Has attention shown him.

8 Wolf's Lane, a poisonous herb.

Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ;
And when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of!
The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown :
The manner and true order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good news
make me sick?

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food,
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast,
And takes away the stomach, - such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :-
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. [Swoons
P. Humph. Comfort, your majesty !

Cla.
O, my royal father!
West. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look

up!

War. Be patient, princes; you do know, these fits Are with his highness very ordinary.

Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight be well.

Cla. No, no; he cannot long hold out these pangs; The incessant care and labour of his mind Hath wrought the mure', that should confire it in, So thin, that life looks through, and will break out. P. Humph. The people fear me 2; for they do

observe

Unfather'd heirs, and loathly birds of nature;
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them

over.

Cla. The river hath thrice flow d, no ebb between 3: And the old folk, time's doting chronicles, Say, it did so, a little time before That our great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and died. War. Speak lower, princes, for the king recovers. P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be his end. K. Hen. I pray you, take me up, and bear me hence Into some other chamber: softly, 'pray.

[They convey the KING into an inner part of the room, and place him on a bed. Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends; Unless some dull and favourable hand Will whisper musick to my weary spirit.

War. Call for the musick in the other room.
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.

War. Less noise, less noise.

9 The detail contained in prince John's letter. I Wall. 2 Make me afraid. 3 An historical fact, on Oct. 12. 1411. 4 Melancholy, soothing.