King Henry IV, Part 2

  SILENCE. Here come two of Sir John Falstaffs men, as I think.  SHALLOW. Good morrow, honest gentlemen.  BARDOLPH. I beseech you, which is Justice Shallow?  SHALLOW. I am Robert Shallow, sir, a poor esquire of thiscounty,    and one of the King's justices of the peace. What is yourgood    pleasure with me?  BARDOLPH. My captain, sir, commends him to you; my captain, Sir    John Falstaff – a tall gentleman, by heaven, and a mostgallant    leader.  SHALLOW. He greets me well, sir; I knew him a good back-swordman.    How doth the good knight? May I ask how my lady his wifedoth?  BARDOLPH. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated thanwith a    wife.  SHALLOW. It is well said, in faith, sir; and it is well saidindeed    too. 'Better accommodated!' It is good; yea, indeed, is it.Good    phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable.    'Accommodated!' It comes of accommodo. Very good; a goodphrase.  BARDOLPH. Pardon, sir; I have heard the word. 'Phrase' call youit?    By this day, I know not the phrase; but I will maintain theword    with my sword to be a soldier-like word, and a word ofexceeding    good command, by heaven. Accommodated: that is, when a manis, as    they say, accommodated; or, when a man is being-whereby 'amay be    thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Enter FALSTAFF

  SHALLOW. It is very just. Look, here comes good Sir John. Giveme    your good hand, give me your worship's good hand. By mytroth,    you like well and bear your years very well. Welcome, goodSir    John.  FALSTAFF. I am glad to see you well, good Master RobertShallow.    Master Surecard, as I think?  SHALLOW. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commissionwith   me.  FALSTAFF. Good Master Silence, it well befits you should be ofthe    peace.  SILENCE. Your good worship is welcome.  FALSTAFF. Fie! this is hot weather. Gentlemen, have youprovided me    here half a dozen sufficient men?  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 – yea,    marry, sir. Rafe Mouldy! Let them appear as I call; let themdo    so, let them do so. Let me see; where is Mouldy?  MOULDY. Here, an't please you.  SHALLOW. What think you, Sir John? A good-limb'd fellow; young,    strong, and of good friends.  FALSTAFF. Is thy name Mouldy?  MOULDY. Yea, an't please you.  FALSTAFF. 'Tis the more time thou wert us'd.  SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i' faith! Things that are    mouldy lack use. Very singular good! In faith, well said, Sir    John; very well said.  FALSTAFF. Prick him.  MOULDY. I was prick'd well enough before, an you could have letme    alone. My old dame will be undone now for one to do herhusbandry    and her drudgery. You need not to have prick'd me; there are    other men fitter to go out than I.  FALSTAFF. Go to; peace, Mouldy; you shall go. Mouldy, it istime    you were spent.  MOULDY. Spent!  SHALLOW. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; know you where youare?    For th' other, Sir John – let me see. Simon Shadow!  FALSTAFF. Yea, marry, let me have him to sit under. He's liketo be    a cold soldier.  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 father'sshadow.    So the son of the female is the shadow of the male. It isoften    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 we havea    number of shadows fill up the muster-book.  SHALLOW. Thomas Wart!  FALSTAFF. Where's he?  WART. Here, sir.  FALSTAFF. Is thy name Wart?  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 uponhis    back, and the whole frame stands upon pins. Prick him nomore.  SHALLOW. Ha, ha, ha! You can do it, sir; you can do it. Icommend    you well. Francis Feeble!  FEEBLE. Here, sir.  FALSTAFF. What trade art thou, Feeble?  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'    prick'd you. Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy'sbattle as    thou hast done in a woman's 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 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 mightstmend    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 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 Bullcalftill    he roar again.  BULLCALF. O Lord! good my lord captain-  FALSTAFF. What, dost thou roar before thou art prick'd?  BULLCALF. O Lord, sir! I am a diseased man.  FALSTAFF. What disease hast thou?  BULLCALF. A whoreson cold, sir, a cough, sir, which I caughtwith    ringing in the King's affairs upon his coronation day, sir.  FALSTAFF. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown. We willhave    away thy cold; and I will take such order that thy friendsshall    ring for thee. Is here all?  SHALLOW. Here is two more call'd than your number. You musthave    but four here, sir; and so, I pray you, go in with me todinner.  FALSTAFF. Come, I will go drink with you, but I cannot 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 inthe    windmill in Saint George's Field?  FALSTAFF. No more of that, Master Shallow, no 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.  FALSTAFF. Never, never; she would always say she could notabide    Master Shallow.  SHALLOW. By the mass, I could anger her to th' heart. She wasthen    a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?  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.  SHALLOW. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst seen that thatthis    knight and I have seen! Ha, Sir John, said I well?  FALSTAFF. We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.  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 haveseen!    Come, come.Exeunt FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES BULLCALF. Good Master Corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and    here's four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. Invery    truth, sir, I had as lief be hang'd, 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 withmy    friends; 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'ssake,    stand my friend. She has nobody to do anything about her whenI    am gone; and she is old, and cannot help herself. You shallhave    forty, sir.  BARDOLPH. Go to; stand aside.  FEEBLE. By my troth, I care not; a man can die but once; we oweGod    a death. I'll ne'er bear a base mind. An't be my destiny, so;    an't be not, so. No man's too good to serve 's Prince; and,let    it go which way it will, he that dies this year is quit forthe    next.  BARDOLPH. Well said; th'art a good fellow.  FEEBLE. Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

Re-enter FALSTAFF and the JUSTICES

  FALSTAFF. Come, sir, which men shall I have?  SHALLOW. Four of which you please.  BARDOLPH. Sir, a word with you. I have three pound to freeMouldy    and Bullcalf.  FALSTAFF. Go to; well.  SHALLOW. Come, Sir John, which four will you have?  FALSTAFF. Do you choose for me.  SHALLOW. Marry, then – Mouldy, Bullcalf, Feeble, and Shadow.  FALSTAFF. Mouldy and Bullcalf: for you, Mouldy, stay at hometill    you are past service; and for your part, Bullcalf, grow youcome    unto it. I will none of you.  SHALLOW. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong. They areyour    likeliest men, and I would have you serv'd with the best.  FALSTAFF. Will you tell me, Master Shallow, how to choose aman?    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 chargeyou    and discharge you with the motion of a pewterer's hammer,come    off and on swifter than he that gibbets on the brewer'sbucket.    And this same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow – give me this man. He    presents no mark to the enemy; the foeman may with as greataim    level at the edge of a penknife. And, for a retreat – howswiftly    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 – thus, thus, thus.  FALSTAFF. Come, manage me your caliver. So – very well. 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 goodscab.    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 Clement's Inn – Iwas    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 againwould    'a go, and again would 'a come. I shall ne'er see such afellow.  FALSTAFF. These fellows will do well. Master Shallow, God keepyou!    Master Silence, I will not use many words with you: Fare you

well! Gentlemen both, I thank you. I must a dozen mile to-night. 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. Peradventure I will with ye to the court. FALSTAFF. Fore God, would you would. SHALLOW. Go to; I have spoke at a word. God keep you. FALSTAFF. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. [Exeunt JUSTICES] On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt all but FALSTAFF] 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 starv'd justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the 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 world like a fork'd 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 call'd him mandrake. 'A came ever in the rearward of the fashion, and sung those tunes to the overscutch'd huswifes 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 been sworn brother to him; and I'll be sworn 'a ne'er saw him but once in the Tiltyard; 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-skin; the case of a treble hautboy was a mansion for him, a court – and now has he land and beeves. 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 reason in the law of nature but I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. Exit

ACT IV. SCENE I. Yorkshire. Within the Forest of Gaultree

Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS, and others

  ARCHBISHOP. What is this forest call'd  HASTINGS. 'Tis Gaultree Forest, an'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.    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, tenour, and substance, thus:    Here doth he wish his person, with such powers    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    And fearful meeting of their opposite.  MOWBRAY. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground    And dash themselves to pieces.

Enter A MESSENGER

  HASTINGS. Now, what news?  MESSENGER. 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.  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?  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,    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-    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, 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,    The dove, and very blessed spirit of peace-    Wherefore you do 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,    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    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 th' 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 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,    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,    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,    But to establish here a peace indeed,    Concurring both in name and quality.  WESTMORELAND. 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 forg'd rebellion with a seal divine,    And consecrate commotion's bitter edge?  ARCHBISHOP. My brother general, the commonwealth,    To brother horn an household cruelty,    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,    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,    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    To all the Duke of Norfolk's signiories,    Your noble and right well-rememb'red 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,    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,    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 —    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.    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,    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.    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    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;    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 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:    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?  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,    All members of our cause, both here and hence,    That are insinewed to this action,    Acquitted by a true substantial form,    And present execution of our wills    To us and to our purposes confin'd-    We come within our awful 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! -    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    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,    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,    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;    And therefore will he wipe his tables clean,    And keep no tell-tale to his memory    That may repeat and history his los    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 and shake a friend.    So that this land, like an offensive wife    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    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,    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.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND

  WESTMORELAND. The Prince is here at hand. Pleaseth yourlordship    To meet his Grace just distance 'tween our armies?  MOWBRAY. Your Grace of York, in God's name then, set forward.  ARCHBISHOP. Before, and greet his Grace. My lord, we come.Exeunt

SCENE II. Another part of the forest

Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards, the ARCHBISHOP, HASTINGS, and others; from the other side, PRINCE JOHN of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, OFFICERS, and others

  PRINCE JOHN. You are well encount'red 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,    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.    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?    To us the speaker in His parliament,    To us th' imagin'd voice of God himself,    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 the countenance and grace of heav'n    As a false favourite doth his prince's name,    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,    I am not here against your father's peace;    But, as I told my Lord of Westmoreland,    The time misord'red 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 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;    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.    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.  PRINCE JOHN. YOU are too shallow, Hastings, much to shallow,    To sound the bottom of the after-times.  WESTMORELAND. Pleaseth your Grace to answer them directly    How far forth you do like their articles.  PRINCE JOHN. 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, 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.  ARCHBISHOP. I take your princely word for these redresses.  PRINCE JOHN. 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.    I know it will 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    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.  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 to-morrow.'  ARCHBISHOP. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit.  MOWBRAY. So much the worse, if your own rule be true.                                                 [Shouts within]  PRINCE JOHN. The word of peace is rend'red. Hark, how theyshout!  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,    And neither party loser.  PRINCE JOHN. 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,    And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by.Exit HASTINGS  PRINCE JOHN. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together.

Re-enter WESTMORELAND