Arch. ^note
What is this forest call'd?

Hast.
'Tis Gaultree ^note Forest, an't shall please your grace ^note.

Arch.
Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth
To know the numbers ^note of our enemies.

Hast.
We have sent forth already.

Arch.
'Tis well done.
My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have received
New-dated letters from Northumberland;
Their cold intent, tenour ^note and substance, thus:
Here doth he ^note wish his person, with such powers

As might hold sortance with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retired, 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.

Mowb.
Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground
And dash themselves to pieces. Enter a Messenger. ^note

Hast.
Now, what news?

Mess.
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.

Mowb.
The just proportion that we gave them out.
Let us sway ^note on and face them in the field. ^note

Arch.
What well-appointed leader fronts us here? Enter Westmoreland. ^note

Mowb.
I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.

West.
Health and fair greeting from our general,
The prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.

Arch.
Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace:
What doth concern your coming? ^note

West.
Then, my lord ^note,
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 ^note youth, guarded ^note with rags ^note,

And countenanced by boys and beggary,
I say, if damn'd commotion so appear'd ^note,
In his true, native and most proper shape,
You, reverend father, and these noble lords
Had not been here, to dress the ugly ^note form
Of base and bloody insurrection
With your fair honours. You, lord ^note archbishop,
Whose see ^note 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 ^note innocence,
The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself
Out of the speech of peace that bears such grace,
Into the harsh and boisterous tongue of war;
Turning your books to graves ^note, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances and your tongue divine
To a loud ^note trumpet and a point ^note of war?

Arch.
Wherefore do I this? so the question stands.
Briefly to this end: we are all diseased,
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 the 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 enforced from our most quiet there ^note
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 ^note 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 ^note.
The dangers of the days ^note but newly gone,
Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet appearing blood, and the examples
Of every minute's instance ^note, present now,
Hath ^note 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.

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 forged rebellion with a seal divine
And consecrate commotion's bitter edge ^note?

Arch.
My brother general, the ^note commonwealth ^note,
To brother born an household cruelty ^note,

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 ^note and unequal hand
Upon our honours ^note?

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 ^note 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 restored
To all the Duke of Norfolk's signories,
Your noble and right well remember'd father's?

Mowb.
What thing, in honour, had my father lost,
That need to be revived and breathed in me?
The king that loved him, as the state stood then,
Was force perforce ^note compell'd to banish him:
And then that ^note Henry ^note Bolingbroke and he,
Being mounted and both roused in their seats,
Their neighing coursers ^note daring of the spur,
Their armed staves in charge, their beavers down,
Their eyes of fire sparkling ^note 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 ^note the king did throw his warder down, ^note

His own life hung upon the staff he threw;
Then threw he down himself and all their lives
That by indictment and ^note by dint of sword
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke.

West.
You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.
The Earl ^note of Hereford was reputed then
In England the most valiant gentleman:
Who knows on whom fortune would then have smiled?
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 ^note their prayers and love
Were set on Hereford ^note, whom they doted on
And bless'd and graced indeed, more than the king ^note. ^note
But this ^note 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 ^note
That might so much as think ^note you enemies.

Mowb.
But he hath forced us to compel this offer;
And it proceeds from policy, not love.

West.
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 ^note 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 ^note.

West.
That argues but the shame of your offence:
A rotten case abides no handling ^note.

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 ^note in the general's name:
I muse 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 insinewed ^note to this action,
Acquitted by a true substantial form,
And present execution ^note of our wills ^note
To us and to our purposes confined ^note,
We come within our awful ^note banks again,
And knit our powers to ^note the arm of peace.

West.
This will I show the general. Please you, lords,
In sight of both our battles we may meet;
And either ^note end in peace, which God ^note so frame!
Or to the place of difference call the swords
Which must decide it.

Arch.
My lord, we will do so. [Exit West. ^note

Mowb.
There is a thing within my bosom tells me
That no conditions ^note of our peace can stand.

Hast.
Fear you not that: if ^note we can make our peace
Upon such large terms and so absolute
As our conditions shall consist ^note upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.

Mowb.
Yea, ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note and such picking grievances ^note:
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 ^note and shake a friend.
So that this land, like an offensive wife
That hath enraged him on ^note 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 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.

Mowb.
Be it so.
Here is return'd my Lord of Westmoreland ^note. Re-enter ^note Westmoreland.

West.
The prince is here at hand: pleaseth your lordship
To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies.

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

Arch.
Before, and greet his grace: my lord, we come. [Exeunt. ^note

^note Scene II. [Footnote: Another part of the forest. ^note Enter ^note, from one side, Mowbray, attended; afterwards the Archbishop, Hastings, and others: from the other side, Prince John of Lancaster, and Westmoreland; Officers, and others with them.

Lan.
You are ^note well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray:
Good day to you, gentle ^note 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 ^note,
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 ^note?
To us the speaker in his parliament;
To us the imagined ^note voice of God himself ^note;
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 ^note the countenance and grace of heaven,
As a false favourite doth his prince's name,
In deeds dishonourable? You ^note have ^note ta'en ^note up,
Under the counterfeited zeal ^note of God ^note,
The subjects of his ^note 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 ^note,
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 ^note been with scorn shoved from the court,
Whereon this Hydra son ^note of war is born;
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep
With grant of our most just and right desires ^note,
And true obedience, of this madness cured,
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 ^note mischief shall be born
And heir from heir shall hold this ^note quarrel up
Whiles ^note England shall have generation.

Lan.
You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow ^note,

To sound the bottom of the after-times.

West.
Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly
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 ^note, 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. ^note

Arch.
I take your princely word for these redresses.

Lan.
I give ^note it you, and will maintain my word: ^note
And thereupon I drink unto your grace. ^note

Hast. ^note
Go, captain, and deliver to the army
This news of peace: let them have pay, and part:
I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain ^note. [Exit Officer. ^{note note}

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 ^note,
You would drink freely: but my love to ye ^note
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 merry;
But heaviness foreruns the good event.

West.
Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow
Serves to say thus ^note, ‘some good thing comes to-morrow.’

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

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

Lan.
The word of peace is render'd: hark, how ^note 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.

Lan.
Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too. [Exit Westmoreland. ^note
And, good my lord, so please you, let our ^note trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have coped withal.

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

Lan.
I trust, lords, we shall ^note lie to-night together. Re-enter ^note Westmoreland. ^note
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.

Lan.
They know their duties.

Re-enter Hastings. ^note

Hast.
My lord, our army is dispersed already ^note:
Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses ^note
East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up,
Each hurries toward ^note 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,
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?

Lan.
I pawn'd thee ^note none:
I promised you redress of these same ^note 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 ^note.
Most shallowly did you these arms commence,
Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray:
God, and not we, hath ^note safely fought to-day.
Some guard these traitors ^note to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath. [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: Another ^note part of the forest. Alarum ^note. Excursions. Enter Falstaff and Colevile, meeting ^note.

Fal.

What's your name, sir? of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray ^note?

Cole.

I am a knight, sir; and my name is Colevile of the dale. ^note

Fal.

Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the dale: Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place ^note, a place ^note deep enough; so shall you be still ^note Colevile of the dale.

Cole.

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.

Cole.

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.

Lan.
The heat is past; follow no further ^note now:

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland. [Exit Westmoreland.
Now, Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When every thing is ended, then ^note 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 ^note speeded hither with ^note the very extremest inch ^note 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 ^note, saw, and overcame.’

Lan.

It was more of his courtesy than your deserving.

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, ^note I will have it in a particular ballad else ^note, with mine own picture on the top on't ^note, Colevile kissing 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, believe 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?

Cole.

It is, my lord.

Lan.
A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.

Fal.
And a famous true subject took him.

Cole.
I am, my lord, but as my betters are
That led me hither: had they been ruled by me,
You should have won ^note them dearer than you have.

Fal.

I know not how they sold themselves: but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself away gratis ^note; and I thank thee for thee.

Lan.
Now ^note, have you left pursuit?

West.
Retreat is made and execution stay'd.

Lan.
Send Colevile ^note with his confederates
To York, to present execution:
Blunt, lead him hence; and see you guard him sure. [Exeunt ^note Blunt and others with Colevile.
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 ^note you, give me leave to go
Through Gloucestershire: and, when you come to court,
Stand my good lord, pray ^note, in your good report ^note. ^note

Lan.
Fare you well, Falstaff: I, in my condition,

Shall better speak of you than you deserve. ^note [Exeunt ^note all except Falstaff.

Fal.

I would you had but ^note the wit: 'twere better than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young sober-blooded boy doth not love me; nor ^note a man cannot make him laugh; but that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's never none ^note of these demure boys come to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their blood, and making many fish-meals ^note, 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 ^note and crudy ^note 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 ^note, which is the birth, becomes ^note 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 extreme ^note: it illumineth ^note 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 puffed up with this retinue ^note, 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 ^note of gold kept by a devil, till sack commences ^note 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 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 humane ^note principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations, and to addict themselves to sack. Enter Bardolph. ^note How now, Bardolph?

Bard.

The army is discharged all and gone.

Fal.

Let them go. I'll through Gloucestershire; and there will I visit Master Robert Shallow, esquire: I have him already tempering between my finger and my thumb, and shortly will I seal with him. Come away.