ry 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 FALSTAFF SHALLOW. It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. By my troth, you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, good Sir John. FALSTAFF. I am glad to see you well, good Master Robert Shallow. Master Surecard, as I think? SHALLOW. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me. FALSTAFF. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace. SILENCE. Your good worship is welcome. FALSTAFF. Fie! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? SHALLOW. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? FALSTAFF. Let me see them, I beseech you. 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, so- yea, marry, sir. Rafe Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy? MOULDY. Here, an't please you. SHALLOW. What think you, Sir John? A good-limb'd fellow; young, strong, and of good friends. FALSTAFF. Is thy name Mouldy? MOULDY. Yea, an't please you. FALSTAFF. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd. 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. FALSTAFF. Prick him. MOULDY. I was prick'd 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 prick'd me; there are other men fitter to go out than I. FALSTAFF. 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? For th' other, Sir John- let me see. Simon Shadow! FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's like to be a cold soldier. SHALLOW. Where's Shadow? SHADOW. Here, sir. FALSTAFF. Shadow, whose son art thou? SHADOW. My mother's son, sir. FALSTAFF. 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 much of the father's substance! SHALLOW. Do you like him, Sir John? FALSTAFF. Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him; for we have a number of shadows fill up the muster-book. SHALLOW. Thomas Wart! FALSTAFF. Where's he? WART. Here, sir. FALSTAFF. Is thy name Wart? WART. Yea, sir. FALSTAFF. Thou art a very ragged wart. SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, Sir John? FALSTAFF. 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. Francis Feeble! FEEBLE. Here, sir. FALSTAFF. What trade art thou, Feeble? FEEBLE. A woman's tailor, sir. SHALLOW. Shall I prick him, sir? FALSTAFF. You may; but if he had been a man's tailor, he'd ha' prick'd you. 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. FALSTAFF. 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. FEEBLE. I would Wart might have gone, sir. FALSTAFF. 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. FALSTAFF. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is next? SHALLOW. Peter Bullcalf o' th' green! FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let's see Bullcalf. BULLCALF. Here, sir. FALSTAFF. Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me Bullcalf till he roar again. BULLCALF. O Lord! good my lord captain- FALSTAFF. What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd? BULLCALF. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man. FALSTAFF. 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. FALSTAFF. 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. Is here all? SHALLOW. Here is two more call'd than your number. You must have but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. FALSTAFF. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master Shallow. SHALLOW. O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all night in the windmill in Saint George's Field? FALSTAFF. No more of that, Master Shallow, no more of that. SHALLOW. Ha, 'twas a merry night. And is Jane Nightwork alive? FALSTAFF. She lives, Master Shallow. SHALLOW. She never could away with me. FALSTAFF. 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? FALSTAFF. 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. 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? FALSTAFF. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow. SHALLOW. That we have, 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. Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES BULLCALF. 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 hang'd, 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. Go to; stand aside. MOULDY. 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. BARDOLPH. Go to; stand 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; th'art a good fellow. FEEBLE. Faith, I'll bear no base mind. Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES FALSTAFF. Come, sir, which men shall I have? SHALLOW. Four of which you please. BARDOLPH. Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to free Mouldy and Bullcalf. FALSTAFF. Go to; well. SHALLOW. Come, Sir John, which four will you have? FALSTAFF. Do you choose for me. SHALLOW. Marry, then- Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow. FALSTAFF. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at home till you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow you come unto it. I will none of you. SHALLOW. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They are your likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best. FALSTAFF. 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-fac'd 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. Hold, Wart. Traverse- thus, thus, thus. FALSTAFF. Come, manage me your caliver. So- very well. Go to; very good; exceeding good. O, give me always a little, lean, old, chopt, bald shot. Well said, i' faith, Wart; th'art a good scab. Hold, 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. 'Rah, tah, tah!' 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. FALSTAFF. 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 to-night. Bardolph, give the soldiers coats. SHALLOW. Sir John, the Lord bless you; God prosper your affairs; God send us peace! At your return, visit our house; let our old acquaintance be renewed. Peradventure I will with ye to the court. FALSTAFF. Fore God, would you would. SHALLOW. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. FALSTAFF. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. [Exeunt JUSTICES] On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt all but FALSTAFF] 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 starv'd 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 fork'd 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; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores call'd him mandrake. 'A came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd huswifes that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware they were his fancies or his good-nights. And now is this Vice's dagger become a squire, and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had been sworn brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in the Tiltyard; and then he burst his head for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it, and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name; for you might have thrust 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 ACT IV. SCENE I. Yorkshire. Within the Forest of Gaultree Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS, and others ARCHBISHOP. What is this forest call'd HASTINGS. 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an't shall please your Grace. ARCHBISHOP. Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth To know the numbers of our enemies. HASTINGS. We have sent forth already. ARCHBISHOP. 'Tis well done. My friends and brethren in these great affairs, I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd New-dated letters from Northumberland; Their cold intent, tenour, 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 retir'd, to ripe his growing fortunes, To Scotland; and concludes in hearty prayers That your attempts may overlive the hazard 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 WESTMORELAND ARCHBISHOP. What well-appointed leader fronts us here? MOWBRAY. I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland. WESTMORELAND. Health and fair greeting from our general, The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster. ARCHBISHOP. Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace, What doth concern your coming. WESTMORELAND. 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 countenanc'd by boys and beggary- I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd 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 maintain'd, Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd, Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd, Whose white investments figure innocence, The dove, and very blessed spirit of peace- Wherefore you do 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. Wherefore do I this? So the question stands. Briefly to this end: we are all diseas'd 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 Westmoreland, 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 awhile 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 weigh'd 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 enforc'd from our most quiet there 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 offer'd to the King, And might by no suit gain our audience: When we are wrong'd, 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, 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. WESTMORELAND. When ever yet was your appeal denied; Wherein have you been galled by the King; What peer hath been suborn'd to grate on you That you should seal this lawless bloody book Of forg'd rebellion with a seal divine, And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? ARCHBISHOP. My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother horn an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular. WESTMORELAND. 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? WESTMORELAND. 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 restor'd To all the Duke of Norfolk's signiories, Your noble and right well-rememb'red father's? MOWBRAY. What thing, in honour, had my father lost That need to be reviv'd and breath'd in me? The King that lov'd him, as the state stood then, Was force perforce compell'd to banish him, And then that Henry 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 stay'd 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. WESTMORELAND. 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 smil'd? 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 bless'd and grac'd 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 forc'd us to compel this offer; And it proceeds from policy, not love. WESTMORELAND. 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 compell'd. MOWBRAY. Well, by my will we shall admit no parley. WESTMORELAND. 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? WESTMORELAND. That is intended in the general's name. I muse you make so slight a question. ARCHBISHOP. 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 insinewed to this action, Acquitted by a true substantial form, And present execution of our wills To us and to our purposes confin'd- We come within our awful banks again, And knit our powers to the arm of peace. WESTMORELAND. 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. My lord, we will do so. Exit WESTMORELAND 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-derived 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 winnow'd with so rough a wind That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff, And good from bad find no partition. ARCHBISHOP. 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 los 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 enrag'd him on to offer strokes, As he is striking, holds his infant up, And hangs resolv'd correction in the arm That was uprear'd 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. 'Tis very true; And therefore be assur'd, 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. Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland. Re-enter WESTMORELAND WESTMORELAND. 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. Before, and greet his Grace. My lord, we come. Exeunt SCENE II. Another part of the forest Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards, the ARCHBISHOP, HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, PRINCE JOHN of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, OFFICERS, and others PRINCE JOHN. You are well encount'red 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 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 th' imagin'd 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 heav'n As a false favourite doth his prince's name, In deeds dishonourable? You have ta'en 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. ARCHBISHOP. Good my Lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your father's peace; But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland, The time misord'red 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 shov'd 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 cur'd, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. MOWBRAY. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man. HASTINGS. 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. PRINCE JOHN. YOU are too shallow, Hastings, much to shallow, To sound the bottom of the after-times. WESTMORELAND. Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly How far forth you do like their articles. PRINCE 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 redress'd; Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your powers 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. ARCHBISHOP. I take your princely word for these redresses. PRINCE JOHN. I give it you, and will maintain my word; And thereupon I drink unto your Grace. HASTINGS. 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 Officer ARCHBISHOP. To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. WESTMORELAND. 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 show itself more openly hereafter. ARCHBISHOP. I do not doubt you. WESTMORELAND. I am glad of it. Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. MOWBRAY. You wish me health in very happy season, For I am on the sudden something ill. ARCHBISHOP. Against ill chances men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event. WESTMORELAND. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus, 'Some good thing comes to-morrow.' ARCHBISHOP. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. MOWBRAY. So much the worse, if your own rule be true. [Shouts within] PRINCE JOHN. The word of peace is rend'red. Hark, how they shout! MOWBRAY. This had been cheerful after victory. ARCHBISHOP. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, And neither party loser. PRINCE JOHN. Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too. Exit WESTMORELAND 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. ARCHBISHOP. Go, good Lord Hastings, And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. Exit HASTINGS PRINCE JOHN. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. Re-enter WESTMORELAND Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? WESTMORELAND. The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak. PRINCE JOHN. They know their duties. Re-enter HASTINGS HASTINGS. My lord, our army is dispers'd already. Like youthful steers unyok'd, they take their courses East, west, north, south; or like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. WESTMORELAND. 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. MOWBRAY. Is this proceeding just and honourable? WESTMORELAND. Is your assembly so? ARCHBISHOP. Will you thus break your faith? PRINCE JOHN. I pawn'd thee 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 scatt'red stray. God, 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 Alarum; excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLVILLE, meeting FALSTAFF. What's your name, sir? Of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray? COLVILLE. I am a knight sir; and my name is Colville of the Dale. FALSTAFF. Well then, Colville is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the Dale. Colville shall still be your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place- a place deep enough; so shall you be still Colville of the Dale. COLVILLE. Are not you Sir John Falstaff? FALSTAFF. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I am. Do you 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. COLVILLE. I think you are Sir John Falstaff, and in that thought yield me. FALSTAFF. 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, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT, and others PRINCE JOHN. The heat is past; follow no further now. Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. Exit WESTMORELAND Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while? When everything is ended, then you come. These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life, One time or other break some gallows' back. FALSTAFF. 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 found'red nine score and odd posts; and here, travel tainted as I am, have, in my pure and immaculate valour, taken Sir John Colville 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 hook-nos'd fellow of Rome-I came, saw, and overcame. PRINCE JOHN. It was more of his courtesy than your deserving. FALSTAFF. I know not. Here he is, and here I yield him; and I beseech your Grace, let it be book'd 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 on't, Colville kissing my foot; to the which course if I be enforc'd, if you do not all show 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 show like pins' heads to her, believe not the word of the noble. Therefore let me have right, and let desert mount. PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too heavy to mount. FALSTAFF. Let it shine, then. PRINCE JOHN. Thine's too thick to shine. FALSTAFF. Let it do something, my good lord, that may do me good, and call it what you will. PRINCE JOHN. Is thy name Colville? COLVILLE. It is, my lord. PRINCE JOHN. A famous rebel art thou, Colville. FALSTAFF. And a famous true subject took him. COLVILLE. I am, my lord, but as my betters are That led me hither. Had they been rul'd by me, You should have won them dearer than you have. FALSTAFF. I know not how they sold themselves; but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis; and I thank thee for thee. Re-enter WESTMORELAND PRINCE JOHN. Now, have you left pursuit? WESTMORELAND. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. PRINCE JOHN. Send Colville, with his confederates, To York, to present execution. Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. Exeunt BLUNT and others And now dispatch 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. FALSTAFF. 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. PRINCE JOHN. Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition, Shall better speak of you than you deserve. Exeunt all but FALSTAFF FALSTAFF. I would you had but the wit; 'twere 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 none 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 two-fold 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 extremes. 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 puff'd 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, sterile, and bare land, manured, husbanded, and till'd, 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 humane principle I would teach them should be to forswear thin potations and to addict themselves to sack. Enter BARDOLPH How now, Bardolph! BARDOLPH. The army is discharged all and gone. FALSTAFF. Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire, and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, Esquire. I have him already temp'ring between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away. Exeunt SCENE IV. Westminster. The Jerusalem Chamber Enter the KING, PRINCE THOMAS OF CLARENCE, PRINCE HUMPHREY OF GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, and others KING. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, We will our youth lead on to higher fields, And draw no swords but what are sanctified. Our navy is address'd, our power connected, Our substitutes in absence well invested, And everything lies level to our wish. Only we want a little personal strength; And pause us till these rebels, now afoot, Come underneath the yoke of government. WARWICK. Both which we doubt not but your Majesty Shall soon enjoy. KING. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, Where is the Prince your brother? PRINCE HUMPHREY. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor. KING. And how accompanied? PRINCE HUMPHREY. I do not know, my lord. KING. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? PRINCE HUMPHREY. No, my good lord, he is in presence here. CLARENCE. What would my lord and father? KING. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother? He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas. Thou hast a better place in his affection Than all thy brothers; cherish it, my boy, And noble offices thou mayst effect Of mediation, after I am dead, Between his greatness and thy other brethren. Therefore omit him not; blunt not his love, Nor lose the good advantage of his grace By seeming cold or careless of his will; For he is gracious if he be observ'd. He hath a tear for pity and a hand Open as day for melting charity; Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he is flint; As humorous as winter, and as sudden As flaws congealed in the spring of day. His temper, therefore, must be well observ'd. Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, When you perceive his blood inclin'd to mirth; But, being moody, give him line and scope Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas, And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends, A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in, That the united vessel of their blood, Mingled with venom of suggestion- As, force perforce, the age will pour it in- Shall never leak, though it do work as strong As aconitum or rash gunpowder. CLARENCE. I shall observe him with all care and love. KING. Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas? CLARENCE. He is not there to-day; he dines in London. KING. And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that? CLARENCE. With Poins, and other his continual followers. KING. Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds; And he, the noble image of my youth, Is overspread with them; therefore my grief Stretches itself beyond the hour of death. The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th'unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors. For when his headstrong riot hath no curb, When rage and hot blood are his counsellors When means and lavish manners meet together, O, with what wings shall his affections fly Towards fronting peril and oppos'd decay! WARWICK. My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite. The Prince but studies his