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 shew awhile 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 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 sphere
By the rough torrent of occasion:
And have the summary of all our griefs,
When time shall serve, to shew 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
(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. Whenever yet was your appeal denied:
Wherein have you been galléd 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,
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?

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.
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
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 restored
To all the Duke of Norfolk's signiories,
Your noble and right-well-remembered father's?
Mowb. 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, 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 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
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
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: every thing set off
That might so much as think you enemies.
Mowb. But he hath forced us to compel this
offer;

And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. 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,

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 muse you make so slight a question.
Arch. 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 insinewed 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 awful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I shew the general. Please
you, lords,

In sight of both our battles we may meet:
And either end in peace, which heaven >
frame!

Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.

Arch.

My lord, we will do so.
[Exit WESTMORLAND.

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-derivéd 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.

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 telltale 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,
And hangs resolved correction in the arm
That was upreared 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,
May offer, but not hold.

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, WESTMORLAND, Officers, and Attendants.

P. John. You are well encountered 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 shewed 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 rebeia 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 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 imagined 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-swarmed them.

Arch.

Good my lord of Lancaster,

I am not here against your father's peace:
But, as I told my lord of Westmorland,
The time misordered 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 shoved from the
court:

Whereon this Hydra-son of war is born:
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed asleep
With grant of our most just and right desires;
And true obedience, of this madness cured,
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 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 aftertimes.

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 redressed: Upon my soul they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your powers into 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 pay, and part: I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer.

Arch. To you, my noble lord of Westmorland. West. I pledge your grace: and if you knew what pains

I have bestowed to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely: but my love to you
Shall shew itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.

East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries towards 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.

Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable?
West. Is your assembly so?

Arch. Will you thus break your faith?
I pawned thee none.

P. John.

I promised 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 scattered 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. Another part of the Forest. Alarums: Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting.

Fal. What's your name, sir? of what conditior are you, and of what place, I pray?

Cole. I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colcvile 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, WESTMORLAND,

and others.

P. John. The heat is past, follow no further now: Call in the powers, good cousin Westmorland.— [Exit WESTMORLAND.

Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When every thing is ended, then you come.
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows' back.

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 ninescore 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 hooknosed 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 shew like gilt twopences 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 shew like pinsheads 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 too 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?

Cole. 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 WESTMORLAND.

P. John. Now, have you left pursuit?
West. Retreat is made and execution stayed.
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 Gloucestershire: 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; 't were 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 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 hath 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, 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 it, and sets it in act and use. Hereof 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