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
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And blessed and graced, indeed, more than the
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.
Mow. But he hath forced us to compel this offer ;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.
Wes. 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 wills our hearts should be as good :
Say you not, then, our offer is compelled.
Moiv. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley.
Wes. That argues but the shame of your
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 ?
Wes. That is intended in the general's name :
I muse you make so slight a question.
Arch. Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland,
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 consign' d ;
We come within our awful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
Wes. This will I show the general. Please you,
In sight of both our battles we may meet ;
And either end in peace, which God so frame !
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.
Arch. My lord, we will do so.
Moiv. There is a thing within my bosom tells
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Has. Fear you not that : if we can make our
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 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.
Arch. No, no, my lord. Note this, the king is
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 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.
Wes. The prince is here at hand : please th your
To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies?
Mow. Your grace of York, in God's name then,
Arch. Before, and greet his grace : my lord,
we come. Exeunt.
Scene II. Another Part of the Forest.
Enter, from one side, Mowbray, the Archbishop,
Hastings and others : from the other side,
John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, Officers
Lan. You are well encountered here, my cousin
ACT IV., Sc. 2.
KING HENRY IV. PART II.
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 mischief might he set abroach,
In shadow of such greatness ! With you, lord
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. 0, 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 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.
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,
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
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born ;
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charmed
With grant of our most just and right desires,
And true obedience, of this madness cur'd,
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,
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.
Lan. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
Wes. Pleaseth your grace to answer them
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 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.
Arch. I take your princely word for these
Lan. I give it you, and will maintain my word :
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.
Has. Go, captain, and deliver to the army
This news of peace : let them have pay, and part :
I knowit will well please them. Hie thee, captain .
Arch. To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland.
Wes. I pledge your grace; and, if you knew
I have bestow'd to breed this present peace,
You would drink freely : but my love to ye
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
Arch. I do not doubt you.
Wes. I am glad of it.
Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
Mow. You wish me health in very happy season,
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.
Arch. Against ill chances men are ever merry ;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
Wes. Therefore be merry, coz ; since sudden
Serves to say thus, some good thing comes to-
Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.
Mow. So much the worse, if your own rule be
true. Shouts within.
Lan. The word of peace is rendered : hark, how
they shout !
Mow. This had been cheerful after victory.
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest,
For then both parties nobly are subdued,
And neither party loser.
Lan. Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too. Exit Wes.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have coped withal.
Arch. Go, good Lord Hastings ; Exit Has.
And, ere they be dismiss' d, let them march by.
Lan. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night to-
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
Wes. The leaders, having charge from you to
Will not go off until they hear you speak.
Lan. They know their duties.
Has. My lord, our army is dispersed already :
Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their
East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward his home, and sporting-place.
Wes. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings ; for the
I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason :
And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mow-
Of capital treason I attach you both.
Mow. Is this proceeding just and honourable ?
Wes. Is your assembly so ?
Arch. Will you thus break your faith ?
Lan. I pawn'd thee none :
I promised you redress of these same grievances,
KINO HENRY IV. PART II.
ACT IV., Sc. 3.
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine
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 ;
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.
Scene III. Another Part of the Forest.
Enter Falstaff and Colevile.
Fal. What's your name, sir? of what condi-
tion are you, and of what place, I pray ?
Col. I am a knight, sir ; and my name is Cole-
vile 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 be still Colevile of the dale.
Col. 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 the drops of thy lovers, and
they weep for thy death : therefore rouse up fear
and trembling, and do observance to my mercy.
Col. 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 John of Lancaster, Westmoreland and
Lan. The heat is past ; follow no further now :
Call in the powers, good cousin 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.
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 nine-score
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 hook-nosed fellow of Rome, I came,
saw, and overcame.
Lan. It was more of his courtesy than your
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 kiss-
ing my foot : to the which course if I be enforced,
if you do not all show like gilt two-pences 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, be-
lieve not the word of the noble : therefore let me
have right, and let desert mount.
Lan. Thine 's too heavy to mount.
Fal. Let it shine then.
Lan. Thine 's too thick to shine.
Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, that
may do me good, and call it what you will.
Lan. Is thy name Colevile ?
Col. It is, my lord.
Lan. A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
Fal. And a famous true subject took him.
Col. 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
gratis ; and I thank thee for thee.
Lan. Now have you left pursuit ?
Wes. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd.
.Lan. Send Colevile with his confederates
To York, to present execution :
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
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.
Fal. My lord, I beseech you, give me leave to go
Through Gloucestershire : and, when you come to
Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.
Lan. 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 : '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 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 gene-
rally 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, de-
livered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the
birth, becomes excellent wit. The second pro-
perty 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
ACT IV., Sc. 4.
KING HENRY IV. PART II.
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 iu 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, hus-
banded 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 them should be, to forswear thin
potations, and to addict themselves to sack.
How now, Bardolph ?
.Bar. The army is discharged all and gone.
Fal. Let them go. I '11 through Gloucester-
shire ; and there will I visit Master Robert Shal-
low, esquire ; I have him already tempering
between my finger and my thumb, and shortly
will I seal with him. Come away. Exeunt.
Scene IV. Westminster. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King, Clarence, 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 collected,
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.
War. Both which we doubt not but your majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
King. Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
Where is the prince your brother ?
P. Hum. I think he 's gone to hunt, my lord,
King. And how accompanied ?
P. Hum. I do not know, my lord.
King. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence,
with him ?
P. Hum. No, my good lord ; he is in presence
Cla. What would my lord and father?
King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of
How chance thou art not with the prince thy
Helovesthee, 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 :
TlnMvfore 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 observed :
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity :
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he 's flint ;
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.
His temper, therefore, must be well observed :
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,
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.
Cla. I shall observe him with all care and love.
King. Why art thou not at Windsor with him,
Cla. He is not there to-day ; he dines in London.
King. And how accompanied ? canst thou tell
Cla. With Poins, and other his continual fol-
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, the 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 !
War. My gracious lord, you look beyond him
The prince but studies his companions,
Like a strange tongue; wherein, to gain the
'Tis needful that the most immodest word
Be look'd upon, and learn'd ; which once attain'd,
Your highness knows, comes to no further use,
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross terms.
The prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers ; and their memory
Shall as a pattern or a measure live,
By which his grace must mete the lives of others,
Turning past evils to advantages.
King. 'Tis seldom- when the bee doth leave her
In the dead carrion. Who 's here, Westmoreland ?
Wes. Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver !
Prince John yonr son doth kiss your grace's hand :
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings and all,
Are brought to the correction of your law ;
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheathed,
But peace puts forth her olive everywhere :
The manner how this action hath been borne,
1 1 ere at more leisure may your highness read,
With every course in his particular.
Kini/. Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day. Look, here 's more news.
KING HENRY IV. PART II.
ACT IV, Sc. 6,
Har. From enemies heaven keep your majesty ;
And, when they stand against you, may they fall
As those that I am come to tell you of !
The Earl Northumberland, and the Lord Bar-
With a great power of English, and of Scots,
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown :
The manner and true order of the fight,
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
King. And wherefore should these good news
make me sick ?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters ?
She either gives a stomach and no food,
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast
And takes away the stomach, such are the rich,
That have abundance and enjcty it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news ;
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy :
O me ! come near me ; now I am much ill.
P. Hum. Comfort, your majesty !
Cla. my royal father !
Wes. My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself,
look up !
War. Be patient, princes ; you do know, these
Are with his highness very ordinary.
Stand from him, give him air ; he '11 straight be
Cla. No, no, he cannot long hold out these
The incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure, that should confine it in,
So thin, that life looks through, and will break
P. Hum. The people fear me ! for they do
Unfather'd heirs, and loathly births of nature :
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep, and leap'd them
Cla. The river hath thrice flow'd, no ebb be-
And the old folk, time's doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great grandsire, Edward, sick' d and died.
War. Speak lower, princes, for the king re-
P. Hum. This apoplexy will certain be his end.
King. I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber : softly, pray.
Scene V. Another Chamber.
The King on a "bed : Clarence, Gloucester, War-
wick and others.
King. ^Let there be no noise made, my gentle
Unless some dull and favourable hand
Will whisper music to my weary spirit.
War. Call for the music in the other room.
King. Set me the crown upon my pillow here.
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much.
War. Less noise, less noise !
Enter Prince of Wales.
Pri. Who saw the Duke of Clarence ?
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness.
Pri. How now ! rain within doors, and none
How doth the king ?
P. Hum. Exceeding ill.
Pri. Heard he the good news yet?
Tell it him.
P. Hum. He altered much upon the hearing it.
Pri. If he be sick with joy, he will recover
War. Not so much noise, my lords: sweet
prince, speak low :
The king your father is disposed to sleep.
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room.
War. Will 't please your grace to go along with
Pri. No ; I will sit and watch here by the king.
Exeunt all except Prince of Wales.
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow,
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ?
polish' d perturbation ! golden care !
That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide
To many a watchful night ! Sleep with it now !
Yet not so sound and half so deeply sweet,
As he whose brow with homely biggin bound,
Snores out the watch of night. majesty !
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit