But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.

West. 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?
Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth,
To brother born a household cruelty,

I make my quarrel in particular.

West. There is no need of any such redress; Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.

Mowb. 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?

West.
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-remember'd father's?
Mowb. 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, when Harry 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 staid
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.

West. 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; every thing set off,
That might so much as think you enemies.

Mowb. But he hath forc'd us to compel this offer:

And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West. Mowbray, you overweent, to take it so ;
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear:
For, lo! within a kent, 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,

Truncheon.

+ Think too highly.

+ Sight.

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 compell'd.

Mowb. Well, by my will, we shall admit no parley. West. That argues but the shame of your offence: A rotten case abides no handling.

Hast. 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 in the general's name:

I muset, 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 banks § again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West. This will I show the general.

lords,

Please you,

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.

Arch.

My lord, we will do so. [Exit West. Mowb. There is a thing within my bosom, tells me, That no conditions of our peace can stand.

Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our

peace

Upon such large terms, and so absolute,

Understood.

Inventory.

+ Wonder.

§ Proper limits of reverence.

As our conditions shall consist upon,

Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
Mowb. 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

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 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 enrag'd 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.

Hast. 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 assur'd, my good lord marshal,

* Trivial.

+ The faith due to a king.

Piddling, insignificant.

Book for memorandums.

If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.

Mowb.

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 ? Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name then set forward.

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, Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland, offi. cers, and attendants.

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cou-
sin 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,

Clad in armour.