3.2 Enter Justice SHALLOW and Justice SILENCE, with MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULLCALF and servants, behind.

SHALLOW     Come on, come on, come on: give me your
hand, sir, give me your hand, sir; an early stirrer, by
the rood! And how doth my good cousin Silence?
SILENCE     Good morrow, good cousin Shallow.
SHALLOW     And how doth my cousin your bedfellow?	5
and your fairest daughter and mine, my god-daughter
Ellen?
SILENCE     Alas, a black woosel, cousin Shallow!
SHALLOW     By yea and no, sir: I dare say my cousin
William is become a good scholar; he is at Oxford still,	10
is he not?
SILENCE     Indeed, sir, to my cost.
SHALLOW     A must then to the Inns o’Court shortly:
I was once of Clement’s Inn, where I think they will
talk of mad Shallow yet.	15
SILENCE     You were called ‘lusty Shallow’ then, cousin.
SHALLOW     By the mass, I was called anything, and I
would have done anything indeed too, and roundly
too. There was I, and little John Doit of Staffordshire,
and black George Barnes, and Francis Pickbone, and	20
Will Squele, a Cotsole man – you had not four such
swinge-bucklers in all the Inns o’Court again; and I
may say to you, we knew where the bona-robas were,
and had the best of them all at commandment. Then
was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy, and page to	25
Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.
SILENCE     This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon
about soldiers?
SHALLOW     The same Sir John, the very same. I see him
break Scoggin’s head at the court gate, when a was a	30
crack, not thus high; and the very same day did I fight
with one Samson Stockfish a fruiterer, behind
Gray’s Inn. Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent!
And to see how many of my old acquaintance
are dead!	35
SILENCE     We shall all follow, cousin.
SHALLOW     Certain, ’tis certain, very sure, very sure.
Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all, all shall
die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?
SILENCE     By my troth, I was not there.	40
SHALLOW     Death is certain. Is old Double of your town
living yet?
SILENCE     Dead, sir.
SHALLOW     Jesu, Jesu, dead! A drew a good bow, and
dead! A shot a fine shoot. John a Gaunt loved him	45
well, and betted much money on his head. Dead! A
would have clapped i’th’ clout at twelve score, and
carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen
and a half, that it would have done a man’s heart good
to see. How a score of ewes now?	50
SILENCE     Thereafter as they be; a score of good ewes
may be worth ten pounds.
SHALLOW     And is old Double dead?
SILENCE     Here come two of Sir John Falstaff’s men, as I
think.	55
Enter BARDOLPH and one with him.
SHALLOW     Good morrow, honest gentlemen.
BARDOLPH     I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?
SHALLOW     I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of
this county, and one of the King’s justices of the peace.
What is your good pleasure with me?	60
BARDOLPH     My captain, sir, commends him to you, my
captain Sir John Falstaff, a tall gentleman, by heaven,
and a most gallant leader.
SHALLOW     He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good
backsword man. How doth the good knight? May I ask	65
how my lady his wife doth?
BARDOLPH     Sir, pardon: a soldier is better accom-
modated than with a wife.
SHALLOW     It is well said, in faith, sir, and it is well said
indeed, too. ‘Better accommodated’! It is good, yea	70
indeed is it; good phrases are surely, and ever were,
very commendable. ‘Accommodated’ – it comes of
‘accommodo’; very good, a good phrase.
BARDOLPH     Pardon, sir, I have heard the word – phrase
call you it? By this day, I know not the phrase, but I	75
will maintain the word with my sword to be a soldier-
like word, and a word of exceeding good command, by
heaven. Accommodated: that is, when a man is, as they
say, accommodated, or when a man is being whereby a
may be thought to be accommodated; which is an	80
excellent thing.
SHALLOW     It is very just.
Enter FALSTAFF.
Look, here comes good Sir John. Give me your good
hand, give me your worship’s good hand. By my troth,
you like well, and bear your years very well. Welcome,	85
good Sir John.
FALSTAFF     I am glad to see you well, good Master
Robert Shallow. Master Surecard, as I think?
SHALLOW     No, Sir John, it is my cousin Silence, in
commission with me.	90
FALSTAFF     Good Master Silence, it well befits you
should be of the peace.
SILENCE     Your good worship is welcome.
FALSTAFF     Fie, this is hot weather, gentlemen. Have you
provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?	95
SHALLOW     Marry have we, sir. Will you sit?
FALSTAFF     Let me see them, I beseech you.
SHALLOW     Where’s the roll? where’s the roll? where’s
the roll? Let me see, let me see, let me see. So, so, so,
so, so, so, so. Yea, marry, sir: Rafe Mouldy! Let them	100
appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so. Let me
see; where is Mouldy?
MOULDY     Here, and’t please you.
SHALLOW     What think you, Sir John? A good-limbed
fellow, young, strong, and of good friends.	105
FALSTAFF     Is thy name Mouldy?
MOULDY     Yea, and’t please you.
FALSTAFF     ’Tis the more time thou wert used.
SHALLOW     Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i’faith, things that
are mouldy lack use: very singular good, in faith, well	110
said, Sir John, very well said.
FALSTAFF     Prick him.
MOULDY     I was pricked well enough before, and you
could have let me alone. My old dame will be undone
now for one to do her husbandry and her drudgery.	115
You need not to have pricked me, there are other men
fitter to go out than I.
FALSTAFF     Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go, Mouldy;
it is time you were spent.
MOULDY     Spent?	120
SHALLOW     Peace, fellow, peace – stand aside; know you
where you are? For th’other, Sir John – let me see:
Simon Shadow!
FALSTAFF     Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He’s
like to be a cold soldier.	125
SHALLOW     Where’s Shadow?
SHADOW     Here, sir.
FALSTAFF     Shadow, whose son art thou?
SHADOW     My mother’s son, sir.
FALSTAFF     Thy mother’s son! Like enough, and thy	130
father’s shadow. So the son of the female is the shadow
of the male; it is often so indeed – but much of the
father’s substance!
SHALLOW     Do you like him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF     Shadow will serve for summer. Prick him, for	135
we have a number of shadows fill up the muster-book.
SHALLOW     Thomas Wart!
FALSTAFF     Where’s he?
WART     Here, sir.
FALSTAFF     Is thy name Wart?	140
WART     Yea, sir.
FALSTAFF     Thou art a very ragged Wart.
SHALLOW     Shall I prick him, Sir John?
FALSTAFF     It were superfluous, for his apparel is built
upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins:	145
prick him no more.
SHALLOW     Ha, ha, ha! you can do it, sir, you can do it, I
commend you well. Francis Feeble!
FEEBLE     Here, sir.
FALSTAFF     What trade art thou, Feeble?	150
FEEBLE     A woman’s tailor, sir.
SHALLOW     Shall I prick him, sir?
FALSTAFF     You may; but if he had been a man’s tailor
he’d ha’ pricked you. Wilt thou make as many holes in
an enemy’s battle as thou hast done in a woman’s	155
petticoat?
FEEBLE     I will do my good will, sir, you can have no
more.
FALSTAFF     Well said, good woman’s tailor! Well said,
courageous Feeble! Thou wilt be as valiant as the	160
wrathful dove, or most magnanimous mouse. Prick
the woman’s tailor: well, Master Shallow; deep,
Master Shallow.
FEEBLE     I would Wart might have gone, sir.
FALSTAFF     I would thou wert a man’s tailor, that thou	165
mightst mend him and make him fit to go. I cannot
put him to a private soldier, that is the leader of so
many thousands. Let that suffice, most forcible Feeble.
FEEBLE     It shall suffice, sir.
FALSTAFF     I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. Who is	170
next?
SHALLOW     Peter Bullcalf o’th’ green!
FALSTAFF     Yea, marry, let’s see Bullcalf.
BULLCALF     Here, sir.
FALSTAFF     Fore God, a likely fellow! Come, prick me	175
Bullcalf till he roar again.
BULLCALF     O Lord, good my lord captain –
FALSTAFF     What, dost thou roar before thou art pricked?
BULLCALF     O Lord, sir, I am a diseased man.
FALSTAFF     What disease hast thou?	180
BULLCALF     A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I
caught with ringing in the King’s affairs upon his
coronation day, sir.
FALSTAFF     Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown;
we will have away thy cold, and I will take such order	185
that thy friends shall ring for thee. Is here all?
SHALLOW     Here is two more called than your number;
you must have but four here, sir: and so, I pray you, go
in with me to dinner.
FALSTAFF     Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot	190
tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, by my troth, Master
Shallow.
SHALLOW     O, Sir John, do you remember since we lay all
night in the Windmill in Saint George’s Field?
FALSTAFF     No more of that, good Master Shallow, no	195
more of that.
SHALLOW     Ha, ’twas a merry night! And is Jane
Nightwork alive?
FALSTAFF     She lives, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW     She never could away with me.	200
FALSTAFF     Never, never; she would always say she could
not abide Master Shallow.
SHALLOW     By the mass, I could anger her to th’heart.
She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own
well?	205
FALSTAFF     Old, old, Master Shallow.
SHALLOW     Nay, she must be old, she cannot choose but
be old, certain she’s old, and had Robin Nightwork by
old Nightwork before I came to Clement’s Inn.
SILENCE     That’s fifty-five year ago.	210
SHALLOW     Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that
that this knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I
well?
FALSTAFF     We have heard the chimes at midnight,
Master Shallow.	215
SHALLOW     That we have, that we have, that we have; in
faith, Sir John, we have; our watchword was ‘Hem,
boys!’ – Come, let’s to dinner; come, let’s to dinner.
Jesus, the days that we have seen! Come, come.
Exeunt Falstaff, Shallow and Silence.
BULLCALF     Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my	220
friend; and here’s four Harry ten shillings in French
crowns for you. In very truth, sir, I had as lief be
hanged, sir, as go. And yet for mine own part, sir, I do
not care; but rather because I am unwilling, and, for
mine own part, have a desire to stay with my friends;	225
else, sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.
BARDOLPH     Go to, stand aside.
MOULDY     And, good Master Corporal Captain, for my
old dame’s sake stand my friend. She has nobody to do
anything about her when I am gone, and she is old and	230
cannot help herself. You shall have forty, sir.
BARDOLPH     Go to, stand aside.
FEEBLE     By my troth I care not, a man can die but once,
we owe God a death. I’ll ne’er bear a base mind – and’t
be my destiny, so; and’t be not, so. No man’s too good	235
to serve’s prince, and let it go which way it will, he that
dies this year is quit for the next.
BARDOLPH     Well said, th’art a good fellow.
FEEBLE     Faith, I’ll bear no base mind.
Enter FALSTAFF and the Justices.
FALSTAFF     Come, sir, which men shall I have?	240
SHALLOW     Four of which you please.
BARDOLPH     Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to
free Mouldy and Bullcalf.
FALSTAFF     Go to, well.
SHALLOW     Come, Sir John, which four will you have?	245
FALSTAFF     Do you choose for me.
SHALLOW     Marry then, Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and
Shadow.
FALSTAFF     Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay
at home till you are past service; and for your part,	250
Bullcalf, grow till you come unto it. I will none of you.
SHALLOW     Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong,
they are your likeliest men, and I would have you
served with the best.
FALSTAFF     Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to	255
choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thews, the
stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man? Give me
the spirit, Master Shallow. Here’s Wart; you see what
a ragged appearance it is – a shall charge you, and
discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer’s	260
hammer, come off and on swifter than he that gibbets
on the brewer’s bucket. And this same half-faced
fellow Shadow; give me this man, he presents no mark
to the enemy – the foeman may with as great aim level
at the edge of a penknife. And for a retreat, how	265
swiftly will this Feeble the woman’s tailor run off! O,
give me the spare men, and spare me the great ones.
Put me a caliver into Wart’s hand, Bardolph.
BARDOLPH     Hold, Wart, traverse – thas! thas! thas!
FALSTAFF     Come, manage me your caliver. So, very well!	270
Go to, very good! Exceeding good! O, give me always
a little, lean, old, chopt, bald shot. Well said, i’ faith,
Wart, th’art a good scab. Hold, there’s a tester for thee.
SHALLOW     He is not his craft’s master, he doth not do it
right. I remember at Mile-End Green, when I lay at	275
Clement’s Inn – I was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur’s
show – there was a little quiver fellow, and a would
manage you his piece thus, and a would about, and
about, and come you in, and come you in. ‘Rah, tah,
tah’, would a say; ‘Bounce’, would a say; and away	280
again would a go, and again would a come: I shall ne’er
see such a fellow.
FALSTAFF     These fellows will do well, Master Shallow.
God keep you, Master Silence: I will not use many
words with you. Fare you well, gentlemen both; I	285
thank you. I must a dozen mile tonight. Bardolph, give
the soldiers coats.
SHALLOW     Sir John, the Lord bless you! God prosper
your affairs! God send us peace! At your return, visit
our house, let our old acquaintance be renewed.	290
Peradventure I will with ye to the court.
FALSTAFF     Fore God, I would you would, Master
Shallow.
SHALLOW     Go to, I have spoke at a word. God keep you!
FALSTAFF     Fare you well, gentle gentlemen.	295
Exeunt Justices.
On Bardolph, lead the men away.
Exeunt Bardolph and recruits.
As I return, I will fetch off these justices. I do see the
bottom of Justice Shallow. Lord, Lord, how subject we
old men are to this vice of lying! This same starved
justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the	300
wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about
Turnbull Street, and every third word a lie, duer paid
to the hearer than the Turk’s tribute. I do remember
him at Clement’s Inn, like a man made after supper of
a cheese-paring. When a was naked, he was for all the	305
world like a forked radish, with a head fantastically
carved upon it with a knife. A was so forlorn, that his
dimensions to any thick sight were invisible; a was the
very genius of famine, yet lecherous as a monkey, and
the whores called him mandrake. A came ever in the	310
rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the
overscutched housewives that he heard the carmen
whistle, and sware they were his fancies or his good-
nights. And now is this Vice’s dagger become a squire,
and talks as familiarly of John a Gaunt as if he had	315
been sworn brother to him, and I’ll be sworn a ne’er
saw him but once in the tilt-yard, and then he burst his
head for crowding among the marshal’s men. I saw it
and told John a Gaunt he beat his own name, for you
might have thrust him and all his apparel into an eel-	320
skin – the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for
him, a court; and now has he land and beefs. Well, I’ll
be acquainted with him if I return, and’t shall go hard
but I’ll make him a philosopher’s two stones to me. If
the young dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no	325
reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him: let
time shape, and there an end.     Exit.

4.1 Enter the Archbishop, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS and others.

ARCHBISHOP     What is this forest call’d?
HASTINGS
’Tis Gaultree Forest, and’t shall please your Grace.
ARCHBISHOP
Here stand, my lords, and send discoverers forth
To know the numbers of our enemies.
HASTINGS     We have sent forth already.
ARCHBISHOP     ’Tis well done.	5
My friends and brethren in these great affairs,
I must acquaint you that I have receiv’d
New-dated letters from Northumberland,
Their cold intent, tenor, and substance, thus:
Here doth he wish his person, with such powers	10
As might hold sortance with his quality,
The which he could not levy; whereupon
He is retir’d to ripe his growing fortunes
To Scotland, and concludes in hearty prayers
That your attempts may overlive the hazard	15
And fearful meeting of their opposite.
MOWBRAY
Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground
And dash themselves to pieces.
Enter Messenger.
HASTINGS     Now, what news?
MESSENGER     West of this forest, scarcely off a mile,
In goodly form comes on the enemy,	20
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their number
Upon or near the rate of thirty thousand.
MOWBRAY     The just proportion that we gave them out.
Let us sway on and face them in the field.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
ARCHBISHOP
What well-appointed leader fronts us here?	25
MOWBRAY     I think it is my Lord of Westmoreland.
WESTMORELAND
Health and fair greeting from our general,
The Prince, Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
ARCHBISHOP
Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace,
What doth concern your coming.
WESTMORELAND     Then, my lord,	30
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 youth, guarded with rags,
And countenanc’d by boys and beggary;	35
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	40
With your fair honours. You, Lord Archbishop,
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,	45
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 boist’rous tongue of war;
Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,	50
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war?
ARCHBISHOP
Wherefore do I this? so the question stands.
Briefly, to this end: we are all diseas’d,
And with our surfeiting, and wanton hours,	55
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,	60
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 th’ obstructions which begin to stop	65
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,	70
And are enforc’d from our most quiet there
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	75
And might by no suit gain our 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.
The dangers of the days but newly gone,	80
Whose memory is written on the earth
With yet-appearing blood, and the examples
Of every minute’s instance, present now,
Hath put us in these ill-beseeming arms,
Not to break peace, or any branch of it,	85
But to establish here a peace indeed,
Concurring both in name and quality.
WESTMORELAND
Whenever yet was your appeal denied?
Wherein have you been galled by the King?
What peer hath been suborn’d to grate on you,	90
That you should seal this lawless bloody book
Of forg’d rebellion with a seal divine,
And consecrate commotion’s bitter edge?
ARCHBISHOP     My brother general, the commonwealth,
To brother born an household cruelty,	95
I make my quarrel in particular.
WESTMORELAND     There is no need of any such redress,
Or if there were, it not belongs to you.
MOWBRAY     Why not to him in part, and to us all
That feel the bruises of the days before,	100
And suffer the condition of these times
To lay a heavy and unequal hand
Upon our honours?
WESTMORELAND     O, my good Lord Mowbray,
Construe the times to their necessities,
And you shall say, indeed, it is the time,	105
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	110
To all the Duke of Norfolk’s signories,
Your noble and right well-remember’d father’s?
MOWBRAY     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,	115
Was force perforce compell’d to banish him,
And then that Henry 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,	120
Their eyes of fire sparkling 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 the King did throw his warder down,	125
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.
WESTMORELAND
You speak, Lord Mowbray, now you know not what.	130
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;	135
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.	140
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, everything set off	145
That might so much as think you enemies.
MOWBRAY     But he hath forc’d us to compel this offer,
And it proceeds from policy, not love.
WESTMORELAND     Mowbray, you overween to take it so.
This offer comes from mercy, not from fear;	150
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,	155
Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
Then reason will our hearts should be as good.
Say you not then, our offer is compell’d.
MOWBRAY     Well, by my will we shall admit no parley.
WESTMORELAND
That argues but the shame of your offence:	160
A rotten case abides no handling.
HASTINGS     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?	165
WESTMORELAND
That is intended in the general’s name:
I muse you make so slight a question.
ARCHBISHOP
Then take, my Lord of Westmoreland, this schedule,
For this contains our general grievances.
Each several article herein redress’d,	170
All members of our cause, both here and hence,
That are ensinew’d to this action
Acquitted by a true substantial form
And present execution of our wills –
To us and to our purposes confin’d	175
We come within our aweful banks again,
And knit our powers to the arm of peace.
WESTMORELAND
This will I show the general. Please you, lords,
In sight of both our battles we may meet,
And either end in peace – which God so frame! –	180
Or to the place of diff ’rence call the swords
Which must decide it.
ARCHBISHOP     My lord, we will do so.
Exit Westmoreland.
MOWBRAY     There is a thing within my bosom tells me
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
HASTINGS     Fear you not that: if we can make our peace	185
Upon such large terms, and so absolute,
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
MOWBRAY     Yea, but our valuation shall be such
That every slight and false-derived cause,	190
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	195
And good from bad find no partition.
ARCHBISHOP
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:	200
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	205
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	210
That hath enrag’d him on to offer strokes,
As he is striking, holds his infant up,
And hangs resolv’d correction in the arm
That was uprear’d to execution.
HASTINGS     Besides, the King hath wasted all his rods	215
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.
ARCHBISHOP     ’Tis very true:
And therefore be assur’d, my good Lord Marshal,	220
If we do now make our atonement well,
Our peace will, like a broken limb united,
Grow stronger for the breaking.
MOWBRAY     Be it so.
Here is return’d my Lord of Westmoreland.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
WESTMORELAND
The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your lordship	225
To meet his Grace just distance ’tween our armies.
MOWBRAY
Your Grace of York, in God’s name then set forward.
YORK     Before! and greet his Grace. – My lord, we come.
[They go forward.]

4.2 Enter PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER and his army.

LANCASTER
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,	5
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,
Turning the word to sword, and life to death.	10
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,	15
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 th’imagin’d voice of God himself,
The very opener and intelligencer	20
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven,
And our dull workings? O, who shall believe
But you misuse the reverence of your place,
Employ the countenance and grace of heav’n
As a false favourite doth his prince’s name,	25
In deeds dishonourable? You have ta’en up,
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.
ARCHBISHOP     Good my Lord of Lancaster,	30
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,
Crowd us and crush us to this monstrous form
To hold our safety up. I sent your Grace	35
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 asleep
With grant of our most just and right desires,	40
And true obedience, of this madness cur’d,
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
MOWBRAY     If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.
HASTINGS     And though we here fall down,
We have supplies to second our attempt:	45
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them;
And so success of mischief shall be born,
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
Whiles England shall have generation.
LANCASTER
You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,	50
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
WESTMORELAND
Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly
How far forth you do like their articles.
LANCASTER     I like them all, and do allow them well,
And swear here, by the honour of my blood,	55
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,	60
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.	65
ARCHBISHOP
I take your princely word for these redresses.
LANCASTER     I give it you, and will maintain my word;
And thereupon I drink unto your Grace.
HASTINGS     Go, captain, and deliver to the army
This news of peace. Let them have pay, and part.	70
I know it will well please them. Hie thee, captain.
Exit officer.
ARCHBISHOP     To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland.
WESTMORELAND
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 ye	75
Shall show itself more openly hereafter.
ARCHBISHOP     I do not doubt you.
WESTMORELAND     I am glad of it.
Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray.
MOWBRAY     You wish me health in very happy season,
For I am on the sudden something ill.	80
ARCHBISHOP     Against ill chances men are ever merry,
But heaviness foreruns the good event.
WESTMORELAND
Therefore be merry, coz, since sudden sorrow
Serves to say thus, ‘Some good thing comes tomorrow’.
ARCHBISHOP     Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.	85
MOWBRAY
So much the worse, if your own rule be true.
[Shouts within.]
LANCASTER
The word of peace is render’d. Hark how they shout!
MOWBRAY     This had been cheerful after victory.
ARCHBISHOP     A peace is of the nature of a conquest,
For then both parties nobly are subdu’d,	90
And neither party loser.
LANCASTER     Go, my lord,
And let our army be discharged too.
Exit Westmoreland.
And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains
March by us, that we may peruse the men
We should have cop’d withal.
ARCHBISHOP     Go, good Lord Hastings,	95
And, ere they be dismiss’d, let them march by.
Exit Hastings.
LANCASTER     I trust, lords, we shall lie tonight together.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still?
WESTMORELAND
The leaders, having charge from you to stand,
Will not go off until they hear you speak.	100
LANCASTER     They know their duties.
Enter HASTINGS.
HASTINGS     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.	105
WESTMORELAND
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.
MOWBRAY     Is this proceeding just and honourable?	110
WESTMORELAND     Is your assembly so?
ARCHBISHOP     Will you thus break your faith?
LANCASTER     I pawn’d thee none.
I promis’d you redress of these same grievances
Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour,
I will perform with a most Christian care.	115
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.
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter’d stray:	120
God, and not we, hath safely fought today.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason’s true bed and yielder-up of breath.     Exeunt.

4.3 Alarum. Excursions. Enter FALSTAFF and COLEVILE, meeting.

FALSTAFF     What’s your name, sir? Of what condition are
you, and of what place?
COLEVILE     I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of
the Dale.
FALSTAFF     Well then, Colevile is your name, a knight is	5
your degree, and your place the Dale. Colevile shall be
still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon
your place – a place deep enough; so shall you be still
Colevile of the Dale.
COLEVILE     Are not you Sir John Falstaff?	10
FALSTAFF     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.	15
COLEVILE     [Kneels.] I think you are Sir John Falstaff,
and in that thought yield me.
FALSTAFF     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. And I had but a belly of any	20
indifferency, I were simply the most active fellow in
Europe: my womb, my womb, my womb undoes me.
Here comes our general.
Retreat sounded. Enter PRINCE JOHN, WESTMORELAND, BLUNT and others.
LANCASTER     The heat is past; follow no further now.
Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland.	25
Exit Westmoreland.
Now Falstaff, where have you been all this while?
When everything is ended, then you come.
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my life,
One time or other break some gallows’ back.
FALSTAFF     I would be sorry, my lord, but it should be	30
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 speeded hither with the
very extremest inch of possibility; I have foundered	35
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	40
fellow of Rome, three words, ‘I came, saw, and
overcame’.
LANCASTER     It was more of his courtesy than your
deserving.
FALSTAFF     I know not: here he is, and here I yield him;	45
and I beseech your Grace, let it be booked with the
rest of this day’s deeds, or by the Lord I will have it in
a particular ballad else, with mine own picture on the
top on’t, Colevile kissing my foot: to the which course
if I be enforced, if you do not all show like gilt	50
twopences 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.	55
LANCASTER     Thine’s too heavy to mount.
FALSTAFF     Let it shine, then.
LANCASTER     Thine’s too thick to shine.
FALSTAFF     Let it do something, my good lord, that may
do me good, and call it what you will.	60
LANCASTER     Is thy name Colevile?
COLEVILE     It is, my lord.
LANCASTER     A famous rebel art thou, Colevile.
FALSTAFF     And a famous true subject took him.
COLEVILE     I am, my lord, but as my betters are
That led me hither. Had they been rul’d by me,	65
You should have won them dearer than you have.
FALSTAFF     I know not how they sold themselves, but
thou like a kind fellow gavest thyself away gratis, and
I thank thee for thee.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
LANCASTER     Now, have you left pursuit?	70
WESTMORELAND     Retreat is made and execution stay’d.
LANCASTER     Send Colevile with his confederates
To York, to present execution.
Blunt, lead him hence, and see you guard him sure.
Exit Blunt with Colevile, guarded.
And now dispatch we toward the court, my lords;	75
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.
FALSTAFF     My lord, I beseech you give me leave to go	80
Through Gloucestershire, and when you come to court
Stand my good lord, pray, in your good report.
LANCASTER     Fare you well, Falstaff. I, in my condition,
Shall better speak of you than you deserve.
Exit, with all but Falstaff.
FALSTAFF     I would you had but the wit, ’twere better	85
than your dukedom. Good faith, this same young
sober-blooded boy doth not love me, nor a man cannot
make him laugh; but that’s no marvel, he drinks no
wine. There’s never none of these demure boys come
to any proof; for thin drink doth so over-cool their	90
blood, and making many fish meals, 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 twofold	95
operation in it. It ascends me into the brain, dries me
there all the foolish and dull and crudy 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, which is the	100
birth, becomes 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	105
course from the inwards to the parts’ extremes. It
illumineth 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	110
and puffed up with this retinue, 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 of gold kept by a
devil, till sack commences it and sets it in act and use.	115
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	120
is become very hot and valiant. If I had a thousand
sons, the first human principle I would teach them
should be to forswear thin potations, and to addict
themselves to sack.
Enter BARDOLPH.
How now, Bardolph?	125
BARDOLPH     The army is discharged all and gone.
FALSTAFF     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	130
away.     Exeunt.

4.4 Enter the KING, carried in a chair, WARWICK, THOMAS DUKE OF CLARENCE, HUMPHREY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER and others.

KING     Now, lords, if God doth give successful end
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is address’d, our power collected,	5
Our substitutes in absence well invested,
And every thing lies level to our wish;
Only we want a little personal strength,
And pause us till these rebels now afoot
Come underneath the yoke of government.	10
WARWICK     Both which we doubt not but your Majesty
Shall soon enjoy.
KING     Humphrey, my son of Gloucester,
Where is the Prince your brother?
GLOUCESTER
I think he’s gone to hunt, my lord, at Windsor.
KING     And how accompanied?
GLOUCESTER     I do not know, my lord.	15
KING     Is not his brother Thomas of Clarence with him?
GLOUCESTER     No, my good lord, he is in presence here.
CLARENCE     What would my lord and father?
KING     Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence.
How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?	20
He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, Thomas.
Thou hast a better place in his affection
Than all thy brothers: cherish it, my boy,
And noble offices thou mayst effect
Of mediation, after I am dead,	25
Between his greatness and thy other brethren.
Therefore omit him not, blunt not his love,
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace
By seeming cold, or careless of his will;
For he is gracious, if he be observ’d,	30
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity:
Yet notwithstanding, being incens’d, he’s flint,
As humorous as winter, and as sudden
As flaws congealed in the spring of day.	35
His temper therefore must be well observ’d.
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclin’d to mirth;
But being moody, give him time and scope,
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,	40
Confound themselves with working. Learn this, Thomas,
And thou shalt prove a shelter to thy friends,
A hoop of gold to bind thy brothers in,
That the united vessel of their blood,
Mingled with venom of suggestion –	45
As force perforce the age will pour it in –
Shall never leak, though it do work as strong
As aconitum or rash gunpowder.
CLARENCE     I shall observe him with all care and love.
KING
Why art thou not at Windsor with him, Thomas?	50
CLARENCE     He is not there today, he dines in London.
KING     And how accompanied? Canst thou tell that?
CLARENCE
With Poins, and other his continual followers.
KING     Most subject is the fattest soil to weeds,
And he, the noble image of my youth,	55
Is overspread with them; therefore my grief
Stretches itself beyond the hour of death.
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape
In forms imaginary th’unguided days
And rotten times that you shall look upon	60
When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb,
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors,
When means and lavish manners meet together,
O, with what wings shall his affections fly	65
Towards fronting peril and oppos’d decay!
WARWICK
My gracious lord, you look beyond him quite.
The Prince but studies his companions
Like a strange tongue, wherein, to gain the language,
’Tis needful that the most immodest word	70
Be look’d upon and learnt; which once attain’d,
Your Highness knows, comes to no further use
But to be known and hated. So, like gross terms,
The Prince will, in the perfectness of time,
Cast off his followers, and their memory	75
Shall as a pattern or a measure live
By which his Grace must mete the lives of other,
Turning past evils to advantages.
KING     ’Tis seldom when the bee doth leave her comb
In the dead carrion.
Enter WESTMORELAND.
Who’s here? Westmoreland?	80
WESTMORELAND
Health to my sovereign, and new happiness
Added to that that I am to deliver!
Prince John your son doth kiss your Grace’s hand:
Mowbray, the Bishop Scroop, Hastings and all
Are brought to the correction of your law.	85
There is not now a rebel’s sword unsheath’d,
But Peace puts forth her olive everywhere.
The manner how this action hath been borne
Here at more leisure may your Highness read,
With every course in his particular.	90
KING     O Westmoreland, thou art a summer bird,
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings
The lifting up of day.
Enter HARCOURT.
Look, here’s more news.
HARCOURT     From enemies heaven keep your Majesty;
And when they stand against you, may they fall	95
As those that I am come to tell you of!
The Earl Northumberland, and the Lord Bardolph,
With a great power of English and of Scots,
Are by the shrieve of Yorkshire overthrown.
The manner and true order of the fight	100
This packet, please it you, contains at large.
KING
And wherefore should these good news make me sick?
Will Fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach, and no food –	105
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast
And takes away the stomach – such are the rich
That have abundance and enjoy it not.
I should rejoice now at this happy news,
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy.	110
O me! come near me, now I am much ill.
GLOUCESTER     Comfort, your Majesty!
CLARENCE     O my royal father!
WESTMORELAND
My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, look up.
WARWICK
Be patient, Princes; you do know these fits
Are with his Highness very ordinary.	115
Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.
CLARENCE
No, no, he cannot long hold out these pangs.
Th’incessant care and labour of his mind
Hath wrought the mure that should confine it in
So thin that life looks through and will break out.	120
GLOUCESTER
The people fear me, for they do observe
Unfather’d heirs and loathly births of nature.
The seasons change their manners, as the year
Had found some months asleep and leap’d them over.
CLARENCE
The river hath thrice flow’d, no ebb between,	125
And the old folk, time’s doting chronicles,
Say it did so a little time before
That our great-grandsire Edward sick’d and died.
WARWICK     Speak lower, Princes, for the King recovers.
GLOUCESTER     This apoplexy will certain be his end.	130
KING     I pray you take me up, and bear me hence
Into some other chamber: softly, pray.