his head, for crouding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name; for you might 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 1 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. [Exit. ACT IV. Enter the Archbishop of YORK, MOWBRAY, Arch. What is this forest call'd? grace. Arch. Here stand, my lords: and send discoverers forth, To know the numbers of our enemies. 'Tis well done. Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground, And dash themselves to pieces. 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 peace; What doth concern your coming? West. Then, my lord, 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 rage, 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 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 What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And find our griefs heavier than our offences. And have the summary of all our griefs, West. When ever yet was your appeal denied? 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 Ff Mowb. Why not to him, in part; and to us all, West. " O my good lord Mowbray, That need to be reviv'd, and breath'd in me? To hear, and absolutely to determine West. That is intended in the general's name : I muse, you make so slight a question. Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this For this contains our general grievances : All members of our cause, both here and hence, In sight of both our battles we may meet: me, That no conditions of our peace can stand. Upon such large terms, and so absolute, West. You speak, lord Mowbray, now you know Yea, every idle, nice, and wanton reason, not what: The earl of Hereford was reputed then Who knows, on whom fortune would then have But, if your father had been victor there, Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, and Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, To know your griefs; to tell you from his grace, You shall enjoy them; every thing set off, That might so much as think you enemies. Shall, to the king, taste of this action : Arch. No, no, my lord; Note this, weary the king is Of dainty and such picking grievances : Mowb. But he hath fore'd us to compel this offer; So that this land, like an offensive wife, And it proceeds from policy, not love. West. Mowbray, you overween, to take it so; Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley. Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission, In very ample virtue of his father, That hath enrag'd him on to offer strokes; That was uprear'd to execution. Hast. Besides the king hath 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, 'Tis very true : — Arch. Mowb. Be it so. Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland. Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop : 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 : 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. 1. 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 redress'd; Discharge your powers unto their several counties, If this may please you, Upon my soul, they shall. 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 pay, and part: I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace, Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever merry; Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses 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 I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason: And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord Mowbray, Of capital treason I attach you both. Mow. 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 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. 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; 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 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. 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 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 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. P. John. Thine's too thick to shine. 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 rul'd 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? sure. 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 [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 con dition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. [Erit. 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, and making many fish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male greensickness; 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 brother? which environ it: makes it apprehensive, quick, | How chance, thou art not with the prince thy forgetive, full of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes; which deliver'd 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 Enter BARDolph. How now, Bardolph ? Bard. The army is discharged all, and gone. Fal. Let them go. I'll through Glostershire; and there will I visit master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. SCENE IV. Westminster [Exeunt. A Room in the Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, PRINCE K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give suc- To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, K. Hen. P. Humph. I think, he's gone to hunt, my lord, K. Hen. And how accompanied ? P. Humph. I do not know, my lord. K. Hen. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas; Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flint ; And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends; Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love. Cla. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. Cla. With Poins, and other his continual followers. K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; Is overspread with them: Therefore my grief The blood weeps from my heart, when I do shape, War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him The prince but studies his companions, 'Tis needful, that the most immodest word P. Humph. No, my good lord; he is in presence Turning past evils to advantages. here. Cla. What would my lord and father? K. Hen. 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth leave her comb K. Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of In the dead carrion. Who's here? Westmore |