SCENE II.
Enter Westmorland.
York.
What well-appointed leader fronts us here?
Mowb.
I think, it is my lord of Westmorland.
West.
Health and fair Greeting from our General,
The Prince, Lord John, and Duke of Lancaster.
York.
Say on, my lord of Westmorland, in peace:
What doth 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,
2 noteLed on by bloody youth, goaded with rage,
-- 267 --
And countenanc'd by boys and beggary;
I say, if damn'd Commotion so appear'd
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, my lord Arch-bishop,
Whose See 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 innocence,
The Dove and every blessed Spirit of Peace;
Wherefore do you so ill translate your self,
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace.
Into the harsh and boist'rous tongue of war?
3 noteTurning your books to glaves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to launces, and 4 noteyour tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
York.
5 noteWherefore do I this? so the question stands.
Briefly, to this end: we are all 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 Westmorland,
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 shew a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness;
And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stop
-- 268 --
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,
6 note
And are inforc'd from our most quiet Sphere,
By the rough torrent of occasion;
And have the summary of all our griefs,
When time shall serve, to shew in articles;
Which long ere this we offer'd to the King,
And might by no suit gain our audience.
When we are wrong'd and would unfold our griefs,
We are deny'd access unto his person,
Ev'n by those men that most have done us wrong.
The danger of the days but newly gone,
(Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet-appearing blood) and the Examples
Of every minute's instance, present now,
Have 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 deny'd?
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,
7 noteAnd consecrate Commotion's Civil Edge?
-- 269 --
York.
8 note
My brother general, the Common-wealth,
To Brother born an 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 an heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours?
West,
9 noteO 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,
Or 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
-- 270 --
To all the Duke of Norfolk's Seigniories,
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 rowsed 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, or 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
Cry'd hate upon him; all their prayers and love
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on,
And bless'd, and grac'd, (a) note 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
-- 271 --
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 over-ween 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 battel 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 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 muse, you make so slight a question.
York.
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 to this action,
Acquitted 1 noteby a true substantial form;
And present executions of our wills
-- 272 --
2 note
To us, and to our properties, confin'd;
3 noteWe come within our lawful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
West.
This will I shew the General. Please you, lords,
In sight of both our battles, we may meet;
(a) noteAnd either end in peace, (which heav'n so frame!)
Or to the place of difference call the swords,
Which must decide it.
York.
My lord, we will do so.
[Exit West.
Alexander Pope [1747], The works of Shakespear in eight volumes. The Genuine Text (collated with all the former Editions, and then corrected and emended) is here settled: Being restored from the Blunders of the first Editors, and the Interpolations of the two Last: with A Comment and Notes, Critical and Explanatory. By Mr. Pope and Mr. Warburton (Printed for J. and P. Knapton, [and] S. Birt [etc.], London) [word count] [S11301].
