Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

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3.1 Enter King Henry in his nightgown, with a page

KING HENRY (giving letters)

Go call the Earls of Surrey and of Warwick.

But ere they come, bid them o’er-read these letters

And well consider of them. Make good speed.

Exit page

How many thousand of my poorest subjects

Are at this hour asleep? O sleep, O gentle sleep,

Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,

That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down

And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,

Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,

And hushed with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber,

Than in the perfumed chambers of the great,

Under the canopies of costly state,

And lulled with sound of sweetest melody?

O thou dull god, why li‘st thou with the vile 15

In loathsome beds, and leav’st the kingly couch

A watch-case, or a common ’larum-bell?

Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast

Seal up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains

In cradle of the rude imperious surge,

And in the visitation of the winds,

Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them

With deafing clamour in the slippery clouds,

That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?

Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose

To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,

And in the calmest and most stillest night,

With all appliances and means to boot,

Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter the Earls of Warwick and Surrey

WARWICK

Many good morrows to your majesty!

KING HENRY

Is it good morrow, lords?

WARWICK ’Tis one o’clock, and past.

KING HENRY

Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords.

Have you read o’er the letter that I sent you?

WARWICK We have, my liege.

KING HENRY

Then you perceive the body of our kingdom,

How foul it is, what rank diseases grow,

And with what danger near the heart of it.

WARWICK

It is but as a body yet distempered,

Which to his former strength may be restored

With good advice and little medicine.

My lord Northumberland will soon be cooled.

KING HENRY

O God, that one might read the book of fate,

And see the revolution of the times

Make mountains level, and the continent,

Weary of solid firmness, melt itself

Into the sea; and other times to see

The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune’s hips; how chance’s mocks

And changes fill the cup of alteration

With divers liquors!‘Tis not ten years gone

Since Richard and Northumberland, great friends,

Did feast together; and in two year after

Were they at wars. It is but eight years since

This Percy was the man nearest my soul,

Who like a brother toiled in my affairs,

And laid his love and life under my foot,

Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard

Gave him defiance. But which of you was by—

(To Warwick) You, cousin Neville, as I may

remember—

When Richard, with his eye brimful of tears,

Then checked and rated by Northumberland,

Did speak these words, now proved a prophecy?—

‘Northumberland, thou ladder by the which

My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne’—

Though then, God knows, I had no such intent,

But that necessity so bowed the state

That I and greatness were compelled to kiss—

‘The time shall come’—thus did he follow it—

‘The time will come that foul sin, gathering head,

Shall break into corruption’; so went on,

Foretelling this same time’s condition,

And the division of our amity.

WARWICK

There is a history in all men’s lives

Figuring the natures of the times deceased;

The which observed, a man may prophesy,

With a near aim, of the main chance of things

As yet not come to life, who in their seeds

And weak beginnings lie intreasurèd. 80

Such things become the hatch and brood of time;

And by the necessary form of this

King Richard might create a perfect guess

That great Northumberland, then false to him,

Would of that seed grow to a greater falseness,

Which should not find a ground to root upon

Unless on you.

KING HENRY Are these things then necessities?

Then let us meet them like necessities;

And that same word even now cries out on us.

They say the Bishop and Northumberland

Are fifty thousand strong.

WARWICK It cannot be, my lord.

Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,

The numbers of the feared. Please it your grace

To go to bed? Upon my soul, my lord,

The powers that you already have sent forth

Shall bring this prize in very easily.

To comfort you the more, I have received

A certain instance that Glyndwr is dead.

Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill,

And these unseasoned hours perforce must add

Unto your sickness.

KING HENRY I will take your counsel.

And were these inward wars once out of hand,

We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. Exeunt

3.2 Enter justice Shallow and Justice Silence

SHALLOW Come on, come on, come on! Give me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir. An early stirrer, by the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?

SILENCE Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.

SHALLOW And how doth my cousin your bedfellow? And your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

SILENCE Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow.

SHALLOW By yea and no, sir, I dare say my cousin William is become a good scholar. He is at Oxford still, is he not? 10

SILENCE Indeed, sir, to my cost.

SHALLOW A must then to the Inns o’ Court shortly. I was once of Clement’s Inn, where I think they will talk of mad Shallow yet.

SILENCE You were called ’lusty Shallow’ then, cousin. 15

SHALLOW By the mass, I was called anything; and I would have done anything indeed, too, and roundly, too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squeal, a Cotswold man; you had not four such swingebucklers in all the Inns o’ Court again. And I may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were, and had the best of them all at commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

SILENCE This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?

SHALLOW The same Sir John, the very same. I see him break Scoggin’s head at the court gate when a was a crack, not thus high. And the very same day did I fight with one Samson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray’s Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead.

SILENCE We shall all follow, cousin.

SHALLOW Certain, ’tis certain; very sure, very sure. Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

SILENCE By my troth, I was not there.

SHALLOW Death is certain. Is old Double of your town living yet?

SILENCE Dead, sir.

SHALLOW Jesu, Jesu, dead! A drew a good bow; and dead! A shot a fine shoot. John o’ Gaunt loved him well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! A would have clapped i’th’ clout at twelve score, and carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man’s heart good to see. How a score of ewes now?

SILENCE Thereafter as they be. A score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds.

SHALLOW And is old Double dead?

Enter Bardolph and ⌈the Page⌉

SILENCE Here come two of Sir John Falstaff’s men, as I think.

⌈SHALLOW⌉ Good morrow, honest gentlemen.

BARDOLPH I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?

SHALLOW I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of this county, and one of the King’s Justices of the Peace. What is your good pleasure with me?

BARDOLPH My captain, sir, commends him to you—my captain Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

SHALLOW He greets me well, sir. I knew him a good backsword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wife doth?

BARDOLPH Sir, pardon, a soldier is better accommodated than with a wife.

SHALLOW It is well said, in faith, sir, and it is well said indeed, too. ‘Better accommodated’—it is good; yea, indeed is it. Good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. ‘Accommodated’—it comes of ‘accommodo’. Very good, a good phrase.

BARDOLPH Pardon, sir, I have heard the word—‘phrase’ call you it?—By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by heaven. ‘Accommodated’; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is being whereby a may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Enter Sir John Falstaff

SHALLOW It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. (To Sir John) Give me your hand, give me your worship’s good hand. By my troth, you like well, and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John.

SIR JOHN I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. (To Silence) Master Surecard, as I think. 85

SHALLOW No, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

SIR JOHN Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

SILENCE Your good worship is welcome.

SIR JOHN Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

SHALLOW Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit?

SIR JOHN Let me see them, I beseech you.

⌈He sits⌉

SHALLOW Where’s the roll, where’s the roll, where’s the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see; so, so, so, so, so. Yea, marry, sir: ‘Ralph Mouldy’. ⌈To Silence⌉ Let them appear as I call, let them do so, let them do so. Let me see, (calls) where is Mouldy?

⌈Enter Mouldy⌉

MOULDY Here, an’t please you. 100

SHALLOW What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed fellow, young, strong, and of good friends.

SIR JOHN Is thy name Mouldy?

MOULDY Yea, an’t please you.

SIR JOHN ’Tis the more time thou wert used. 105

SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha, most excellent, i’faith! Things that are mouldy lack use. Very singular good, in faith, well said, Sir John, very well said.

SIR JOHN Prick him.

MOULDY I was pricked well enough before, an you could have let me alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery. You need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than 1. 114

SIR JOHN Go to, peace, Mouldy. You shall go, Mouldy; it is time you were spent.

MOULDY Spent?

SHALLOW Peace, fellow, peace. Stand aside; know you where you are? 119

⌈Mouldy stands aside⌉

For th‘other, Sir John, let me see: ‘Simon Shadow’—

SIR JOHN Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He’s like to be a cold soldier.

SHALLOW (calls) Where’s Shadow?

⌈Enter Shadow⌉

SHADOW Here, sir.

SIR JOHN Shadow, whose son art thou? 125

SHADOW My mother’s son, sir.

SIR JOHN Thy mother’s son! Like enough, and thy father’s shadow. So the son of the female is the shadow of the male—it is often so indeed—but not of the father’s substance.

SHALLOW Do you like him, Sir John?

SIR JOHN Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for we have a number of shadows fill up the muster book.

⌈Shadow stands aside⌉

SHALLOW (calls) ‘Thomas Wart.’

SIR JOHN Where’s he?

⌈Enter Wart⌉

WART Here, sir.

SIR JOHN Is thy name Wart?

WART Yea, sir.

SIR JOHN Thou art a very ragged wart.

SHALLOW Shall I prick him, Sir John?

SIR JOHN It were superfluous, for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him no more.

SHALLOW Ha, ha, ha, you can do it, sir, you can do it! I commend you well. 145

⌈Wart stands aside⌉

(Calls) ‘Francis Feeble.’

⌈Enter Feeble⌉

FEEBLE Here, sir.

SHALLOW What trade art thou, Feeble?

FEEBLE A woman’s tailor, sir.

SHALLOW Shall I prick him, sir?

SIR JOHN You may, but if he had been a man’s tailor, he’d ha’ pricked you. (To Feeble) Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy’s battle as thou hast done in a woman’s petticoat?

FEEBLE I will do my good will, sir; you can have no more.

SIR JOHN Well said, good woman’s tailor; well said, courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the wrathful dove or most magnanimous mouse. Prick the woman’s tailor. Well, Master Shallow; deep, Master Shallow. 160

FEEBLE I would Wart might have gone, sir.

SIR JOHN I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that thou mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot put him to a private soldier that is the leader of so many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.

FEEBLE It shall suffice, sir.

SIR JOHN I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.

⌈Feeble stands aside⌉

Who is next?

SHALLOW (calls) ‘Peter Bullcalf o’th’ green.’

SIR JOHN Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf. 170

⌈Enter Bullcalf⌉

BULLCALF Here, sir.

SIR JOHN Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick Bullcalf till he roar again.

BULLCALF O Lord, good my lord captain!

SIR JOHN What, dost thou roar before thou’rt pricked?

BULLCALF O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.

SIR JOHN What disease hast thou?

BULLCALF A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir, which I caught with ringing in the King’s affairs upon his coronation day, sir. 180

SIR JOHN Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We will have away thy cold, and I will take such order that thy friends shall ring for thee.

⌈Bullcalf stands aside⌉

Is here all? 184

SHALLOW There is two more called than your number. You must have but four here, sir, and so I pray you go in with me to dinner.

SIR JOHN Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. 190

SHALLOW O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the Windmill in Saint George’s Field?

SIR JOHN No more of that, good Master Shallow, no more of that.

SHALLOW Ha, ’twas a merry night! And is Jane Nightwork alive? 196

SIR JOHN She lives, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW She never could away with me.

SIR JOHN Never, never. She would always say she could not abide Master Shallow.

SHALLOW By the mass, I could anger her to th’ heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?

SIR JOHN Old, old, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain she’s old; and had Robin Nightwork by old Nightwork before I came to Clement’s Inn. 206

SILENCE That’s fifty-five year ago.

SHALLOW Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that that this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well? 210

SIR JOHN We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

SHALLOW That we have, that we have; in faith, Sir John, we have. Our watchword was ‘Hem boys!’ Come, let’s to dinner; come, let’s to dinner. Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come. 216

Exeunt Shallow, Silence, and Sir John

BULLCALF ⌈coming forward⌉ Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend, and here’s four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go. And yet for mine own part, sir, I do not care; but rather because I am unwilling, and, for mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends. Else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.

BARDOLPH ⌈taking the money⌉ Go to; stand aside. 225

⌈Bullcalf stands aside⌉

MOULDY ⌈coming forward⌉ And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my old dame’s sake stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her when I am gone, and she is old and cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir. 230

BARDOLPH Go to; stand aside.

⌈Mouldy stands aside⌉

FEEBLE By my troth, I care not. A man can die but once. We owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind. An’t be my destiny, so; an’t be not, so. No man’s too good to serve’s prince. And let it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit for the next.

BARDOLPH Well said; thou’rt a good fellow.

FEEBLE Faith, I’ll bear no base mind.

Enter Sir John Falstaff, Shallow, and Silence

SIR JOHN Come, sir, which men shall I have?

SHALLOW Four of which you please.

BARDOLPH (to Sir John) Sir, a word with you. (Aside to him)

I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf.

SIR JOHN Go to, well.

SHALLOW Come, Sir John, which four will you have?

SIR JOHN Do you choose for me.

SHALLOW Marry, then: Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.

SIR JOHN Mouldy and Bullcalf. For you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will none of you.

⌈Exeunt Bullcalf and Mouldy⌉

SHALLOW Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.

SIR JOHN Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me the spirit, Master Shallow. Here’s Wart; you see what a ragged appearance it is? A shall charge you and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer’s hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer’s bucket. And this same half-faced fellow Shadow; give me this man. He presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as great aim level at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how swiftly will this Feeble the woman’s tailor run off! O, give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.—Put me a caliver into Wart’s hand, Bardolph.

BARDOLPH (giving Wart a caliver) Hold, Wart. Traverse—thas, thas, thas! 269

⌈Wart marches⌉

SIR JOHN (to Wart) Come, manage me your caliver. So; very well. Go to, very good, exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot! Well said, i‘faith, Wart; thou’rt a good scab. Hold; (giving a coin) there’s a tester for thee.

SHALLOW He is not his craft’s master; he doth not do it right. I remember at Mile-End Green, when I lay at Clement’s Inn—I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur’s show—there was a little quiver fellow, and a would manage you his piece thus, and a would about and about, and come you in and come you in. ‘Ra-ta-ta!’ would a say; ‘Bounce!’ would a say; and away again would a go; and again would a come. I shall ne’er see such a fellow.

SIR JOHN These fellows will do well, Master Shallow. God keep you, Master Silence; I will not use many words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both; I thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight.—Bardolph, give the soldiers coats.

SHALLOW Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs! God send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the court.

SIR JOHN Fore God, would you would!

SHALLOW Go to, I have spoke at a word. God keep you!

SIR JOHN Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. 295

Exeunt Shallow and Silence

On, Bardolph, lead the men away.

Exeunt Bardolph, Wart, Shadow, and Feeble

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 starved 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 a was naked, he was for all the world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife. A was so forlorn that his dimensions, to any thick sight, were invisible. A was the very genius of famine. And now is this Vice’s dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John o’ Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him, and I’ll be sworn a ne’er saw him but once, in the Tilt-yard, and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal’s men. I saw it, and told John o’ Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have trussed 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’ll be acquainted with him if I return; and’t shall go hard but I’ll 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

4.1 Enter ⌈in arms⌉ the Archbishop of York, Thomas Mowbray, Lord Hastings, and ⌈Coleville⌉, within the Forest of Gaultres

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK What is this forest called?

HASTINGS

’Tis Gaultres Forest, an’t shall please your grace.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth

To know the numbers of our enemies.

HASTINGS

We have sent forth already.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK ’Tis well done.

My friends and brethren in these great affairs,

I must acquaint you that I have received

New-dated letters from Northumberland,

Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus:

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 retired to ripe his growing fortunes

To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers

That your attempts may overlive the hazard 15

And fearful meeting of their opposite.

MOWBRAY

Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground

And dash themselves to pieces.

Enter a Messenger

HASTINGS Now, what news?

MESSENGER

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.

MOWBRAY

The just proportion that we gave them out.

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

Enter the Earl of Westmorland

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

What well-appointed leader fronts us here?

MOWBRAY

I think it is my lord of Westmorland.

WESTMORLAND

Health and fair greeting from our general,

The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Say on, my lord of Westmorland, in peace,

What doth concern your coming.

WESTMORLAND 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 rags,

And countenanced by boys and beggary;

I say, if damned commotion so appeared

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 maintained,

Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touched,

Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutored,

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?

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

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 Westmorland,

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 th’obstructions which begin to stop

Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly.

I have in equal balance justly weighed

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 enforced from our most quiet shore

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 offered to the King,

And might by no suit gain our audience.

When we are wronged, 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, 80

Whose memory is written on the earth

With yet appearing blood, and the examples

Of every minute’s instance, present now,

Hath 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.

WESTMORLAND

Whenever yet was your appeal denied?

Wherein have you been gallèd by the King?

What peer hath been suborned to grate on you,

That you should seal this lawless bloody book

Of forged rebellion with a seal divine?

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

My brother general, the commonwealth

I make my quarrel in particular.

WESTMORLAND

There is no need of any such redress;

Or if there were, it not belongs to you.

MOWBRAY

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

To lay a heavy and unequal hand

Upon our honours?

WESTMORLAND 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, 105

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 restored

To all the Duke of Norfolk’s signories,

Your noble and right well-remembered father’s? 110

MOWBRAY

What thing in honour had my father lost

That need to be revived and breathed in me?

The King that loved him, as the state stood then,

Was force perforce compelled to banish him;

And then that Henry Bolingbroke and he, 115

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 stayed

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 125

That by indictment and by dint of sword

Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

WESTMORLAND

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

smiled?

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 blessed and graced, 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, everything set off

That might so much as think you enemies.

MOWBRAY

But he hath forced us to compel this offer,

And it proceeds from policy, not love.

WESTMORLAND

Mowbray, you overween 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 arms,

Our armour all as strong, our cause the best.

Then reason will our hearts should be as good.

Say you not then our offer is compelled.

MOWBRAY

Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.

WESTMORLAND

That argues but the shame of your offence.

A rotten case abides no handling.

HASTINGS

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?

WESTMORLAND

That is intended in the general’s name.

I muse you make so slight a question.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Then take, my lord of Westmorland, this schedule;

For this contains our general grievances.

Each several article herein redressed,

All members of our cause, both here and hence,

That are ensinewed to this action

Acquitted by a true substantial form,

And present execution of our wills

To us and to our purposes consigned,

We come within our awe-full banks again,

And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

WESTMORLAND (taking the schedule)

This will I show the general. Please you, lords,

In sight of both our battles we may meet,

And either end in peace—which God so frame—

Or to the place of diff’rence call the swords

Which must decide it.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK My lord, we will do so. 180

Exit Westmorland

MOWBRAY

There is a thing within my bosom tells me

That no conditions of our peace can stand.

HASTINGS

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.

MOWBRAY

Yea, but our valuation shall be such

That every slight and false-derivèd 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 winnowed with so rough a wind

That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff,

And good from bad find no partition.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

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 enraged him on to offer strokes,

As he is striking, holds his infant up, 210

And hangs resolved correction in the arm

That was upreared to execution.

HASTINGS

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,

May offer, but not hold.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK ’Tis very true.

And therefore be assured, my good Lord Marshal,

If we do now make our atonement well,

Our peace will, like a broken limb united,

Grow stronger for the breaking.

MOWBRAY Be it so.

Enter Westmorland

Here is returned my lord of Westmorland.

WESTMORLAND

The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship

To meet his grace just distance ’tween our armies?

MOWBRAY

Your grace of York, in God’s name then set forward.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK

Before, and greet his grace!—My lord, we come.

⌈They march over the stage.⌉

Enter Prince John ⌈with one or more soldiers

carrying wind⌉

PRINCE JOHN