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

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

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You Mowbray :

Enter Prince John of Lancaster.
Lan. U'RE well encounter'd here, my cousin

Mowbray;
Good day to you, my gentle lord Archbishop,
And so to you, lord Hastings, and to all.
My lord of York, it better

shew'd with you,
When that your flock, affembled 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 Rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.
That man, that fits within a monarch's heart,
And ripens in the sun-fhine of his favour,
Would he abuse the count'nance of the King,
Alack, what mischiefs might he fet abroach,
In shadow of such Greatness? With you, lord Bishop,
It is ev'n so. 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 sanctities 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 false favourite doth his Prince's name
In deeds dishon'rable ? you've taken up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
The Subjects of his substitute, my father ;
And both against the peace of heav'n and him
Have here up-swarm'd them.

York,

York Good my lord of Lancaster. . I am not here against your

father's

peace : But, as I told my lord of Westmorland, The time mis-order'd doth in common sense Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form, To hold our safety up. I fent 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, Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd alleep 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.

Hast. And though we here fall down, We have Supplies to second our attempt: If they miscarry, theirs fhall second them. And so Success of mischief shall be born, And heir from heir shall hold his quarrel up, While England shall have generation. Lan. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too

shallow, To found the bottom of the after-times.

West. 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 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 redreft; Upon my life, they shall. · If this may please you, Discharge 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.

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York. I take your princely word for these Redresses.

Lan. I give it you; and will maintain my word; And thereupon I drink unto your

Grace.
Hast. 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 bestow'd, to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely : but my love to ye
Shall shew 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 wilh 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, Coz, since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus; some good thing comes to-morrow.

York. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule be true.

Shouts.
Lan. The word of peace is render'd ; hark! they

fhout.
Mowh. This had been chearful after victory.

York. A peace is of the nature of a conquest;
For then both parties nobly are subdu'd,
And neither party loser.

Lan, Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too. [Exit Weft.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.

York,

York. Go, good lord Hastings:
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.

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

S C E N E V.

Re-enter Westmorland.
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?

West. The leaders having charge from you to stand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
Lan. They know their duties.

Re-enter Hastings. Haft. My lord, our army is dispers'd already: Like youthful Steers unyoak'd, they took their course 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 ?
Weft. Is your assembly lo ?
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 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, Hiav’n, 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.

[Alarm. Excursions.

SCENE

S G E N E VI.

Enter Falstaff and Colevile.

WH

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

i 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 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, who e'er I am: do ye yield, Sir, or shall I sweat for you? if I do sweat, they are the drops of thy lovers, and they weep for thy death; therefore rouse up fear and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.

Gole. 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

Here comes our General. Enter Prince John of Lancaster, and Westmorland.

Lan. The heat is paft, follow no farther now, Call in the Pow'rs, good coufin Westmorland.

Exit Weft. Now, l'alstaff, 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 VOL V. I

the

me.

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