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West. That argues but the shame of your of
Has. Hath the prince John a full commission,
West. That is intended 1 in the general's name:
schedule ; For this contains our general grievances. Each several article herein redress'd; All members of our cause, both here and hence, That are insinew'd to this action, Acquitted by a true substantial form, And present execution of our wills, To us and to our purposes consign'd;We come within our awful 2 banks again, And knit our powers to 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 end in peace, which Heaven so frame ! Or to the place of difference call the swords Which must decide it. Arch.
My lord, we will do so.
Mow. There is a thing within my bosom tells
me, That no conditions of our peace can stand. Has. Fear you not that: if we can make our
peace Upon such large terms, and so absolute, As our conditions shall consist upon,
shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. Mow. Ay, but our valuation shall be such, That every slight and false-derived cause, Yea, every idle, nice,1 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 ev'n 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
? Insignificant. $ Memorandum-book.
His foes are so enrooted with his friends,
Has. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods
instruments of chastisement:
'Tis very true;
peace will, like a broken limb united,
Be it so.
West. The prince is here at hand. Pleaseth your
lordship, To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies ? Mow. Your grace of York, in God's name then
set forward. Arch. Before, and greet his grace. My lord, we
Another part of the forest.
HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, PRINCE
cousin Mowbray :
Between the grace, the sanctities of Heaven,
lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your
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 The parcels and particulars of our grief; The which hath been with scorn shoved 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; And true obedience, of this madness cured, Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty.
Mow. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes To the last man.
Has. And though we here fall down,
| Labors of thought.