Mowb. Your Grace of York in God's name then fet forward.

York. Before, and greet his Grace; my lord, we come.

Lan.

YOU'R

YOU'RE well encounter'd here, my coufin
Mowbray;

Good day to you, my gentle lord Archbishop,
And fo to you, lord Haftings, and to all.
My lord of York, it better fhew'd with you,
When that your flock, affembled by the bell,
Encircled you, to hear with reverence
Your expofition on the holy text;

Than now to fee you here an iron man,
Cheering a rout of Rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to fword, and life to death.
That man, that fits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the fun-fhine of his favour,
Would he abuse the count'nance of the King,
Alack, what mischiefs might he fet abroach,
In fhadow of fuch Greatnefs? With you, lord Bishop,
It is ev'n fo. Who hath not heard it spoken,
How deep you were within the books of heav'n?
To us, the Speaker in his Parliament :

To us, th' imagin'd voice of heav'n itself;
The very opener, and intelligencer

Between the grace, the fanctities of heav'n,
And our dull workings. O, who shall believe
But you misuse the rev'rence of your place,
Employ the countenance and grace of heav'n,
As a falfe favourite doth his Prince's name.
In deeds dishon'rable? you've taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The Subjects of his fubftitute, my father;
And both against the peace of heav'n and him
Have here up-fwarm'd them.

York.

peace:

York Good my lord of Lancaster.
I am not here against your father's
But, as I told my lord of Westmorland,
The time mif-order'd doth in common sense
Crowd us and crush us to this monftrous form,
To hold our fafety up. I fent your Grace
The parcels and particulars of our grief,

The which hath been with fcorn fhov'd from the Court:
Whereon this Hydra-fon of war is born,

Whofe dangerous eyes may well be charm'd afleep
With Grant of our most just and right desire ;
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.

Haft. And though we here fall down,
We have Supplies to fecond our attempt:
If they mifcarry, theirs fhall fecond them.
And fo Succefs of mischief shall be born,
And heir from heir shall hold his quarrel up,
While England fhall have generation.

Lan. You are too fhallow, Haftings, much too fhallow,

To found the bottom of the after-times.

Weft. Pleaseth your Grace, to answer them directly, How far forth you do like their articles?

Lan. I like them all, and do allow them well:
And fwear here, by the honour of my blood,
My father's purposes have been miftook;
And Some about him have too lavishly
Wrefted his meaning and authority.

My lord, thefe griefs fhall be with speed redreft;
Upon my life, they fhall. If this may please you,
Difcharge your Pow'rs 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.

York.

York. I take your princely word for these Redreffes. Lan. I give it you; and will maintain my word; And thereupon I drink unto your Grace.

Haft. Go, captain, and deliver to the army This news of peace; let them have pay, and part: I know, it will please them. Hie thee, captain. [Exit Colevile. York. To you, my noble lord of Westmorland. Weft. I pledge your Grace; and if you knew what pains

I have beftow'd, to breed this prefent peace,

You would drink freely: but my love to ye
Shall fhew itself more openly hereafter.
York. I do not doubt you.

Weft. I am glad of it.

Health to my lord, and gentle cousin Mowbray.
Mowb. You with me health in very happy season,
For I am on the sudden something ill.

York. Against ill chances men are ever merry,
But heaviness fore-runs the good event.

Weft. Therefore be merry, Goz, fince fudden forrow Serves to fay thus; fome good thing comes to-morrow. York. Believe me, I am paffing light in spirit. Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule be [Shouts. Lan. The word of peace is render'd; hark! they

true.

shout.

Mowb. This had been chearful after victory.

York. A peace is of the nature of a conqueft; For then both parties nobly are subdu'd,

And neither party lofer.

Lan. Go, my lord,

And let our army be difcharged too.

[Exit Weft.

And, good my lord, fo pleafe you, let our trains.
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.

York,

York. Go, good lord Haftings:

And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.

[Exit Haflings.

Lan. I trust, lords, we shall lie to night together.

Now, coufin, wherefore ftands our army ftill?
Weft. The leaders having charge from you to ftand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
Lan. They know their duties.

Re-enter Haftings.

up,

Haft. My lord, our army is difpers'd already:
Like youthful Steers unyoak'd, they took their course
Eaft, weft, north, fouth: or like a school broke
Each hurries towards his home and fporting-place.
Weft. Good tidings, my lord Haftings; for the which
I do arreft thee, traitor, of high treason:
And you, lord Archbishop, and you, lord Mowbray,
Of capital treason I attach you both.

Mowb. Is this proceeding juft and honourable?
Weft. Is your affembly fo?

York. Will you thus break your faith?
Lan. I pawn'd you none:

I promis'd you Redress of these same grievances,
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a moft christian care.
But for you, Rebels, look to taste the due
Meet for rebellion and fuch acts as yours.
Moft fhallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here, and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the fcatter'd stray,
Heav'n, and not we, hath safely fought to day.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treafon's true bed and yielder up of breath. [Exeunt.
[Alarm. Excurfions.

SCENE

Fal. WHAT's your name, Sir? of what condi

tion 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 fhall ftill be your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place deep enough: so shall you ftill be Colevile of the dale.

Cole. Are not you Sir John Falstaff?

Fal. As good a man as he, Sir, who e'er I am: do ye yield, Sir, or fhall I fweat for you? if I do fweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore roufe up fear and trembling, and do obfervance 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 indifferency, I were fimply the most active fellow in Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb undoes me. Here comes our General.

any

. I

Enter Prince John of Lancaster, and Westmorland. Lan. The heat is past, follow no farther now, Call in the Pow'rs, good coufin Westmorland.

[Exit Weft. Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When every thing is ended, then you come. Thefe tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break fome Gallows' back. Fal. I would be forry, my lord, but it should be thus: I never knew yet, but rebuke and check was VOL V. I

the