West. That argues but the shame of your of

fence:

A rotten case abides no handling.

Has. 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?

West. That is intended 1 in the general's name : I muse, you make so slight a question.

Arch. Then take, my lord of Westmoreland, this schedule;

For this contains our general grievances.
Each several article herein redress'd;

All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are insinew'd to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form,
And present execution of our wills,
To us and to our purposes consign'd ;—
We come within our awful 2 banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.

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

In sight of both our battles we may meet;
And either end in peace, which Heaven so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.

Mow. There is a thing within my bosom tells

me,

That no conditions of our peace can stand.

Has. 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.
Mow. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That every slight and false-derived cause,
Yea, every idle, nice,1 and wanton reason,
Shall, to the king, taste of this action;
That, were our royal faiths martyrs in love,
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a wind,
That ev'n 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

2

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 3 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,
And hangs resolved correction in the arm
That was uprear'd to execution.

Has. 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.

Arch.

'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.

Mow.

Be it so.

Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND.

West. The prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship,

To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies? Mow. Your grace of York, in God's name then set forward.

Arch. Before, and greet his grace. My lord, we [Exeunt.

come.

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, WESTMORELAND, Officers, and Attendants.

P. John. You are well encounter'd 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 show'd 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 rebels 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 favor ;
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.1 O, who shall believe,
But you misuse the reverence of your place;
Employ the countenance and grace of Heaven,
As a false favorite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonorable? 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-swarm'd them.

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, 2 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 charm'd asleep,

With grant of our most just and right desires;
And true obedience, of this madness cured,

Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.

Mow. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.

Has.

And though we here fall down,

Labors of thought.

In the general sense of general danger.'--Johnson.