West. That argues but the shame of your of fence: A rotten case abides no handling. Has. 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 ܕ܂ West. That is intended 1 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. All members of our cause, both here and hence, Please you, 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. 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, Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains. Arch. No, no, my lord. weary 2 Note this :-the king is Of dainty and such picking grievances; For he hath found,-to end one doubt by death, 3 And therefore will he wipe his tables 3 clean, That may repeat and history his loss To new remembrance: for full well he knows, His foes are so enrooted with his friends, He doth unfasten so, and shake a friend : Has. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods On late offenders, that he now doth lack The very instruments of chastisement: Arch. 'Tis very true; And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal, Our peace will, like a broken limb united, Grow stronger for the breaking. Mow. Be it so. Here is return'd my lord of Westmoreland. Re-enter WESTMORELAND. 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 [Exeunt. come. SCENE II. Another part of the forest. Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, THE ARCHBISHOP, HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, PRINCE JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, Officers, and Attendants. P. John. You are well encounter'd here, my cousin Mowbray :— Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop ;- It is even so. Who hath not heard it spoken, Between the grace, the sanctities of Heaven, The subjects of his substitute, my father; And, both against the peace of Heaven and him, 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,? 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, And true obedience, of this madness cured, Mow. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes Has. And though we here fall down, Labors of thought. In the general sense of general danger.'--Johnson. |