Arch.
What is this Forrest call'd?

Hast.
Gualtree Forrest my Lord.

Arch.
Here stand we then, and send discoverers forth
To know the number of our Enemies.

Hast.
We have sent forth already.

Arch.
'Tis well done.
My Friends and Brothers in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv'd
New dated Letters from Northumberland.
Their cold intent, tenure and substance thus.
He could not on the sudden raise such Forces
As suited with his Quality: whereupon
He is retir'd to try his further Fortune
To Scotland; and concludes in hearty Prayers
That our attempts may outlive the hazard
And fearful meeting of our Enemies.

Mow.
The hopes we had of him then fall to Ground,
And dash themselves to Pieces.

Hast.
Now Sir what News?

Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
A Mile West of this Forrest
In goodly Order comes the Enemy,
And by the Ground they cover, I judg'd their number
Near Thirty Thousand.

Mow.
Let us Survey and Face 'em in the Field.

Arch.
But who comes here? Enter Westmorland.

Mow.
I think it is my Lord of Westmorland.

West.
Health and fair Greeting from our General,
The Prince, Lord John, and Duke of Lancaster.

Arch.
Speak on my Lord of Westmorland,
What does concern your coming.

West.
Then my Lord,
Unto your Grace do I in chief Address
The substance of my Speech: If that Rebellion
Came like it self, in base and abject Routs.
I say, if damn'd Commotion did appear
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 Power maintain'd,
Whose Beard the Silver Hand of Time has touch'd;
Whose Learning and good Letters Peace has Tutor'd,
And whose white Vestments figure Innocence:
Wherefore do you so ill Translate your self
Out of the Speech of Peace (which bears such Grace)
Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue of War?
Turning your Books to Graves, your Ink to Blood,

Your Pens to Launces, and your Tongue divine,
To a loud Trumpet and a point of War.

Arch.
Wherefore do this? So stands the Question.
Briefly to this End. We are diseas'd,
And with our surfeiting and wanton Hours
Have brought our selves into a burning Fever,
And we must bleed for it: Of which Disease
Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd.
But my most noble Lord of Westmoreland,
I take not on me here as a Physician,
Nor do I as an Enemy to Peace,
Joyn in the Throng of Military Men.
I have in equal Ballance justly weigh'd
What Wrong our Arms may do, what Wrongs we suffer,
And find our Griefs heavier than our Offences;
And have the Summary of all our Wrongs
(When Time shall serve) to shew in Articles,
Which long e'er this we offer'd to the King,
And could by no Suit, gain our Audience:
When we are wrong'd and would' unfold our Griefs,
We are deny'd Access unto his Person,
Even by the very Men who most have wrong'd us.

West.
When ever yet was your Appeal deny'd?
Wherein have you been injur'd by the King?
That you should seal this lawless bloody Book
Of forg d Rebellion, with a Seal divine?

Arch.
My noble Brothers here, and Commonwealth
I make my Quarrel in particular.

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

Mow.
Why not to him in part, and to us all?
Who 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 who does you Injuries.
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 'em; and all Things forgot
That might so much as think you Enemies.

Mow.
By my Consent, we will admit no Parley.

West.
That argues but the Shame of your Offence,
A rotten Cause admits no handling.

Hast.
But has Prince John such a Commission,
With full and ample Power from his Father,
To hear and absolutely to determine
Of what Conditions we shall stand upon?

West.
That's intended in the General's Name,
'Tis strange 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 engaged with us in this great Action,
Acquitted in a true substantial Form,
We'll come within our awful Bounds again,
And freely run into the Arms of Peace.

West.
This will I shew the General, please you Lords
In sight of both the Armies we may meet
And either end in Peace (if Heaven so please)
Or to the place of Battle call the Swords,
Which must decide it.

Arch.
My Lord, let it be so. Exit West.

Mow.
There's something in my Mind forewarns me still,
That no Conditions of this Peace can stand.

Hast.
O fear not that! if we can make a Peace
Upon such full large absolute Conditions,
Our Peace shall stand as firm as a fix'd Rock.

Mow.
We shall be more suspected for this Action,
And every false or slight Occasion taken
We shall be winnow'd with so rough a Wind,
That even our Corn shall seem as light as Chass,
And good from bad find no Distinction.

Arch.
No, no, my Lord, note this. The King is weary
Of all such false, nice, picking Grievances,
His Foes are so engrafted with his Friends,
That plucking to unfix an Enemy,
He will unfasten so, and shake a Friend.

Hast.
Besides, the King has wasted his Revenge
On late Offenders, that he now does lack
The very Instruments of his Chastisement;
So that his Pow'r like a fangless Lion
May offer, but not hold.

Arch.
'Tis very true.
And therefore be assur'd my good Lord Marshal,
If we do now make our Attonement well,
Our Peace will (like a broken Limb united),
Grow stronger for the breaking. Enter Westmoreland.

Mow.
Be it so.
But see, my Lord of Westmoreland is return'd.

West.
The Prince is here at Hand; so please your Lordships
To meet his Grace there, between both the Armies.

Mow.
In Heavens name (my Lord of York) move on.

Arch.
My Lord of Westmoreland,
Be pleas'd to tell his Highness we are coming. (Exeunt. Enter on one Side Prince John of Lancaster, Westmoreland and Officers. On the other Archbishop, Mowbray, Hastings, Lord Bardolfe, &c.

Pr. Jo.
You're well encounter'd here my Cozen Mowbray,
Good day to you my learned Lord Archbishop,
And so to you my Lord Hastings, and to all.
My Lord of York, I grieve to see you here:
That Man who sits within a Monarchs Heart,
And ripens in the Sun-shine of his Favour,
Would he abuse the Count'nance of the King,
Alas! What Mischiefs might be set a broach,
In shadow of such Greatness? with you Lord Bishop,
It is just so: Are you not my Lord,
To us the Speaker in his Parliament,
The very Opener and Intelligencer
Between the Grace, and Sanctity of Heav'n
And our dull Senses? O! Who shall believe
That you misuse the Reverence of your Place,
Employ the Countenance and Grace of Heaven
As a false Favourite does his Prince's Name
In Deeds dishonourable? You have taken up,
Under the counterfeited Zeal of Heaven,
The Subjects of Heavens Substitute (my Father)
And both against the Peace of Heaven and him,
Have rais'd these Bees and swarm'd 'em.

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 disorder'd does in common Care
Croud us, and crush us to this monstrous Form
To keep our Liberties and Fortunes safe;

I sent your Grace Particulars of our Griefs;
Which with Contempt and Scorn have been rejected
Whereon this Hydra Son of War is born,
Whose dangerous Eyes may well be charm'd asleep
With granting our most just and right Desires,
And our Obedience to his Majesty
Stoop tamely as before.

Mow.
If not, we are ready now to try our Fortunes
To the last Man.

Hast.
And shou'd we here fall down,
We have Supplies to second our Attempt
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them,
And so successive Mischiefs shall be born,
And Heir to Heir shall hold this Quarrel up.

Pr. Jo.
You are too shallow Hastings, much too shallow
To sound the bottom of the After-times.

West.
So please your Grace to answer 'em directly
How far you do approve their Articles.

Pr. Jo.
I like 'em all, and do allow 'em all,
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 Lords, these Griefs shall be with speed redress'd,
Upon my Life they shall; if this may please you,
Discharge your Men hence to 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 restor'd Love and Amity. Some Wine.

Arch.
take your Princely Word for these Redresses. Enter Officers with Wine.

Pr. Jo.
I give it you, and will maintain my Word;
And thereupon drink freely to your Grace.

Hast.
Go Captain and deliver to the Army
This News of Peace, and let 'em have Pay, and part,
I know 'twill please 'em well, hasten good Captain.

Arch.
To you my noble Lord of Westmoreland. [Exit Captain.

West.
I pledge your Grace, and if you knew
What Pains I have bestow'd to gain this Peace,
You would drink freely; but my Love to you
Shall shew it self more openly hereafter.

Arch.
I do not doubt it.

West.
I am glad of it.
Health to my Lord, and gentle Cozen Mowbray.

Mow.
You wish me Health, Sir, in a happy Season.
For I am on the sudain something ill.

Arch.
Against ill Chances Men are always merry
And Heaviness fore-runs a good Event.
Believe me I am wondrous light my Lord.

Mow.
So much the worse if your own Rule be true. [Shout.

Pr. Jo.
The Peace is welcome. Hark how the Soldiers Shout!

Mow.
This had been chearful after Victory.

Arch.
A Peace is of the nature of a Conquest,
For then both Parties nobly are subdu'd,
And neither of em loser.

Pr. Jo.
Go my Lord,
And let our Army be discharg'd too. [Exit West.
And good my Lords (so please you) let your Soldiers
March by us, that we may peruse the Men,
We should have cop'd withall.

Arch.
Go good Lord Hastings,
And e'er they be dismiss'd, let 'em march by.

Enter Westmoreland.
Now Cozen wherefore stands our Army still?

West.
The Leaders having charge from you to stand
Will not march off, till you your self command 'em.

Pr. Jo.
They know their Duties well. Enter Hastings.

Hast.
Our Army is dispers'd.
Like youthful Steers unyoak'd, they took their Course
East, West, North, South; or like a School broke up
Each hurries towards his Home, and sporting place.

West.
Good Tydings my Lord Hastings, for the which
I do Arrest thee Traytor of High-Treason.
And you Lord Bishop, you Lord Mowbray
Of Capital Treason; I attach you all.

Mow.
Is this Proceeding just and honourable?

West.
Is your Assembly so?

Arch.
Will you thus break your Faith?

Pr. Jo.
I pawn'd you none.
I promis'd you redress of those same Grievances
Whereof you did complain: And by my Honour!
I will perform it with a 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.
Beat up our Drums, pursue the scatter'd Stray;
Heav'n and not we, has safely fought to day. [Exeunt.

Enter Falstaffe and Coleville.

Fal.

What's your Name, Sir? Of what Condition are you? And of what Place I pray?

Col.

I am a Knight, Sir, my Name is Coleville of the Dale.

Fal.

Well then, Coleville is your Name, Knight your Degree, and your place the Dale. Coleville shall still be your Name, a Traytor your Degree, and the Dungeon your Place, a place deep enough: So shall you be still Coleville of the Dale.

Col.

Are not you Sir John Falstaffe?

Fal.

As good a Man as he who e'er I am. Do you yield, Sir, or must I Sweat for you? If I do Sweat, they are the drops of your Friends, and they weep for your Death; therefore rouze up fear and trembling, and do observance to my Mercy.

Col.

I think you are Sir John Falstaffe, and in that Belief yield me.

Fal.

I have a whole School of Tongues in this Belly of mine, and not a Tongue of 'em all speaks any other Name, than valiant Sir John Falstaffe— Here comes our General.