Shal. Sir John, the Lord bleffe you, God profper your affaires, God fend vs peace at your returne, visit our house, let our old acquaintance be renewed, peraduenture I will with ye to the court.

Fal. Fore God would you would.

Shal. Go to, I haue fpoke at a word, God keep you.
Fal. Fare you well gentle gentlemen.

Exit.

Shal. On Bardolfe, leade the men away, as I returne I will fetch off these iuftices, I do fee the bottome of iuftice Shallow, Lord, Lord, how fubiect we old men are to this vice of lying, this fame ftaru'd iuftice hath done nothing but prate to me, of the wildneffe of his youth, and the feates he hath done about Turne-bull street, and euery third word a lie, dewer paid to the hearer then the Turkes tribute, I doe remember him at Clements inne, like a man made after fupper of a cheese paring, when a was naked, he was for all the worlde like a forkt reddish, with a head fantastically carued vpon it with a knife, a was fo forlorne, that his demenfions to any thicke fight were inuincible, a was the very gemies of famine, yet lecherous as a monkie, and the whores cald him mandrake, a came ouer in the rereward of the fashion, and fung those tunes to the ouer-fchutcht hufwiues, that he heard the car-men whistle, and fware they were his fancies or his good-nights, and nowe is this vices dagger become a fquire, and talkes as familiarly of Iohn a Gaunt, as if he had bin fworne brother to him, and Ile be sworne a nere faw him but once in the tyltyard, and then he burft his head for crowding among marshalles men, I faw it, and told Iohn a Gaunt he beate his owne name, for you might haue thrust him and all his aparell into an eele-skin, the cafe of a treble hoboy was a mansion for him a court, and now has he land and beefes. Well, Ile be acquainted with him if I returne, and t'fhal go hard, but Ile make him a philofophers two ftones to me, if the yong dafe be

the

a baite

a baite for the old pike, I fee no reafon in the law of nature but I may fnap at him: let time shape, and there an end.

Enter the archbishop, Mowbray, Bardolfe, Haftings, within the forrest of Gaultree.

Bifb. What is this forreft calld?

Haft. Tis Gaultree forreft, and't fhal please your grace.

Bifh. Here ftand, my lords, and fend discouerers forth,
To know the numbers of our enemies.

Haft. We haue fent forth already.
Bishop. Tis well done,

My friends and brethren (in thefe great affaires)
I must acquaint you, that I haue receiu'd
New dated letters from Northumberland,
Their cold intent, tenure, and fubftance thus:
Here doth he with his perfon, with fuch powers,
As might hold fortance with his qualitie,
The which he would not leuy: whereupon
He is retirde to ripe his growing fortunes,
To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers,
That your attempts may ouer-liue the hazard.
And fearefull meeting of their opposite.

Mowb. Thus do the hopes we haue in him touch ground, And dafh themfelues to peeces.

Enter messenger.

Haftings. Now, what newes?

Meffenger. Weft of this forrest, scarcely off a mile,

In goodly forme comes on the enemy,

And by the ground they hide, I iudge their number

Vpon, or neere the rate of thirty thousand.

Mowbray. The iuft proportion that we gaue them out, Let vs fway on, and face them in the field.

Bishop. What wel appointed leader fronts vs heere?

M m 2

Enter

Enter Weftmerland.

Mowbray. I thinke it is my lord of Weftmerland. Weft. Health and faire greeting from our generall, The prince lord Iohn and duke of Lancaster.

Bishop. Say on my lord of Westmerland in peace,
What doth concerne your comming?

Weft. Vnto your grace doe I in chiefe addresse
The fubftance of my fpeech: if that rebellion
Came like it felfe, in base and abiect rowtes,
Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage,
And countenaunft by boyes and beggary.
I fay, if damnd commotion fo appeare,
In his true, natiue, and moft proper shape,
You, reuerend father, and these noble lordes,
Had not beene heere to dreffe the owgly forme
Of bafe and bloody infurrection

With your faire honours. You (lord archbishop)
Whofe fea is by a ciuile peace maintainde,

Whose beard the filuer hand of peace hath toucht,
Whofe learning and good letters peace hath tutord,
Whofe white inucftments figures innocence,
The doue, and very bleffed fpirite of peace.
Wherefore do you fo ill tranflate your felfe
Out of the fpeech of peace that beares fuch grace,
Into the harsh and boyftrous tongue of warre?
Turning your bookes to graues, your incke to bloud,
Your pennes to launces, and your tongue diuine,
To a lowd trumpet, and a point of warre?

Bifb. Wherefore do I this? fo the question stands:
Briefly, to this end we are all difeafde:

The dangers of the daie's but newly gone,
Whofe memorie is written on the earth,
With yet appearing blood, and the examples
Of euery minutes inftance (prefent now,)

Hath

Hath put vs in these ill-befeeming armes,
Not to breake peace, or any braunch of it,
But to establish heere a peace indeede,
Concurring both in name and qualitie.

Weft. When euer yet was your appeale denied
Wherein haue you been galled by the king?
What peere hath beene fubornde to grate on you?
That you should feale this lawleffe bloody booke
Of forgde rebellion with a feale diuine,
And confecrate commotions bitter edge.

Bishop. My brother generall, the common wealth
To brother borne an houfhold cruelty,
I make my quarrell in particular.

Weft. There is no neede of any fuch redreffe,
Or if there were, it not belongs to you.

Mowbray. Why not to him in part, and to vs all
That feele the bruifes of the daies before?

And fuffer the condition of thefe times,
To lay a heauy and vnequall hand
Vpon our honors.

Weft. But this is meere digreffion from my purpose.
Here come I from our princely generall,

To know your griefes, to tell you from his grace,
That he will giue you audience, and wherein
It shall appeere that your demaunds are iuft,
You shall enjoy them, euery thing fet off
That might fo much as thinke you enemies.
Mowbray. But he hath forcde vs to compel this offer,
And it proceedes from policie, not loue.

Weft. Mowbray, you ouerweene to take it fo
This offer comes from mercy, not from feare:
For loe, within a ken our army lies:
Vpon mine honour, all too confident
To giue admittance to a thought of feare:

Our battell is more full of names than yours,
Our men more perfect in the vse of armes,

Our armour all as ftrong, our cause the best:
Then reafon will our hearts fhould be as good:
Say you not then, our offer is compelld.

Mow Well, by my will, we shall admit no parlee.
Weft. That argues but the fhame of your offence,
A rotten cafe abides no handling.

Haftings. Hath the prince Iohn a full commiffion,
In very ample vertue of his father,

To heare, and abfolutely to determine

Of what conditions we fhall ftand vpon ?

Weft. That is intended in the generalles name,

I muse you make so flight a question.

Bishop. Then take, my lord of Westmerland, this fcedule, For this containes our generall grieuances,

Each feuerall article herein redrest.

All members of our caufe both here and hence,

That are enfinewed to this action,
Acquitted by a true fubftantiall forme,
And prefent execution of our willes,
To vs and our purpofe confinde,
We come within our awefull bancks againe,
And knit our powers to the arme of peace.

Weft. This will I fhew the generall, please you lords,
In fight of both our battells we may meete,
At either end in peace, which God fo frame,
Or to the place of diffrence call the swords,
Which muft decide it.

Bishop. My lord, we will doe fo.

Exit Weftmerland.

Mow. There is a thing within my bofome tells me That no conditions of our peace can stand.

Haflings. Feare you not, that if we can make our peace,

Vpon fuch large termes, and fo absolute,

As