Another Part of the Forest. |
|
Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, the ARCHBISHOP, HASTINGS, and Others: from the other side, JOHN OF LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, Officers, and Attendants. |
Lanc. 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, |
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 mischief 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 the 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 heaven, |
As a false favourite doth his prince's name, |
In deeds dishonourable? You have taken 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 upswarm'd them. |
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 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. |
Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes |
To the last man. |
Hast. 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. |
Lanc. You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow, |
To sound the bottom of the after-times. |
West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answer them directly |
How far forth you do like their articles. |
Lanc. 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. |
Arch. I take your princely word for these redresses. |
Lanc. I give it you, and will maintain my word: |
And thereupon I drink unto your Grace. |
Hast. [To an Officer.] Go, captain, and deliver to the army |
This news of peace: let them have pay, and part: |
I know it will well please them: hie thee, captain. [Exit Officer. |
Arch. To you, my noble Lord of Westmoreland. |
West. 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 you |
Shall show itself more openly hereafter. |
Arch. I do not doubt you. |
West. I am glad of it. |
Health to my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. |
Mowb. You wish me health in very happy season; |
For I am, on the sudden, something ill. |
Arch. Against ill chances men are ever merry, |
But heaviness foreruns the good event. |
West. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow |
Serves to say thus, Some good thing comes to morrow. |
Arch. Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. |
Mowb. So much the worse if your own rule be true. [Shouts within. |
Lanc. The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout! |
Mowb. This had been cheerful, after victory. |
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; |
For then both parties nobly are subdu'd, |
And neither party loser. |
Lanc. 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. |
Arch. Go, good Lord Hastings, |
And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. [Exit HASTINGS. |
Lanc. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. |
|
Re-enter WESTMORELAND. |
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? |
West. The leaders, having charge from you to stand, |
Will not go off until they hear you speak. |
Lanc. They know their duties. |
|
Re-enter HASTINGS. |
Hast. 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. |
West. 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. |
Mowb. Is this proceeding just and honourable? |
West. Is your assembly so? |
Arch. Will you thus break your faith? |
Lanc. 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. |
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: |
God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day, |
Some guard these traitors to the block of death; |
Treason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. [Exeunt. |
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