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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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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 man2 note,

-- 159 --


Cheering a rout of rebels with your drum,
Turning the word to sword3 note

, 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, the imagin'd voice of God himself4 note



;
The very opener and intelligencer,
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven5 note

,
And our dull workings6 note
: O, 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,

-- 160 --


In deeds dishonourable? You have taken up7 note,
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 sense8 note

,
Croud 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 asleep9 note,
With grant of our most just and right desires;
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 shall second them:
And so success of mischief1 note shall be born;

-- 161 --


And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up,
Whiles England shall have generation.

P. John.
You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,
To sound the bottom of the after-times.

West.
Pleaseth your grace, to answer them directly,
How far-forth you do like their articles?

P. John.
I like them all, and do allow2 note

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 powers3 note 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 redresses.

P. John.
I give it you, and will maintain my word:
And thereupon I drink unto your grace.

Hast.
Go, captain, [To an Officer.] and deliver to the army

-- 162 --


This news of peace; let them have pay, and part:
I know, it will well please them; Hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer.

Arch.
To you, my noble lord of Westmoreland.

West.
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 you
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.

Arch.
I do not doubt you.

West.
I am glad of it.—
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mowbray.

Mowb.
You wish me health in very happy season;
For I am, on the sudden, something ill.

Arch.
Against ill chances, men are ever merry4 note;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.

West.
Therefore be merry, coz5 note; since sudden sorrow
Serves to say thus,—Some good thing comes tomorrow.

Arch.
Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.

Mowb.
So much the worse, if your own rule be true.
[Shouts within.

P. John.
The word of peace is render'd; Hark, how they shout!

Mowb.
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.

P. John.
Go, my lord,

-- 163 --


And let our army be discharged too.— [Exit Westmoreland.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains6 note


March by us; that we may peruse the men
We should have cop'd withal.

Arch.
Go, good lord Hastings,
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.
[Exit Hastings.

P. John.
I trust, my lords, we shall lie to-night together.— Re-enter Westmoreland.
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.

P. John.
They know their duties.
Re-enter Hastings.

Hast.
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.

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,

-- 164 --


Of capital treason I attach you both.

Mowb.
Is this proceeding just and honourable?

West.
Is your assembly so?

Arch.
Will you thus break your faith?

P. John.
I pawn'd thee none:
I promis'd you redress of these same grievances7 note,
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* note.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here8 note
, 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.
[Exeunt9 note


.

-- 165 --

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James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
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