Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood, Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuine To a lowd Trumpet, and a Point of Warre

Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands.

Briefely to this end: Wee are all diseas'd, And with our surfetting, and wanton howres, Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer, And wee must bleede for it: of which Disease, Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd.

But (my most n.o.ble Lord of Westmerland) I take not on me here as a Physician, Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace, Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men: But rather shew a while like fearefull Warre, To dyet ranke Mindes, sicke of happinesse, And purge th' obstructions, which begin to stop Our very Veines of Life: heare me more plainely.

I haue in equall ballance iustly weigh'd, What wrongs our Arms may do, what wrongs we suffer, And finde our Griefes heauier then our Offences.

Wee see which way the streame of Time doth runne, And are enforc'd from our most quiet there, By the rough Torrent of Occasion, And haue the summarie of all our Griefes (When time shall serue) to shew in Articles; Which long ere this, wee offer'd to the King, And might, by no Suit, gayne our Audience: When wee are wrong'd, and would vnfold our Griefes, Wee are deny'd accesse vnto his Person, Euen by those men, that most haue done vs wrong.

The dangers of the dayes but newly gone, Whose memorie is written on the Earth With yet appearing blood; and the examples Of euery Minutes instance (present now) Hath put vs in these ill-beseeming Armes: Not to breake Peace, or any Branch of it, But to establish here a Peace indeede, Concurring both in Name and Qualitie

West. When euer yet was your Appeale deny'd?

Wherein haue you beene galled by the King?

What Peere hath beene suborn'd, to grate on you, That you should seale this lawlesse b.l.o.o.d.y Booke Of forg'd Rebellion, with a Seale diuine?

Bish. My Brother generall, the Common-wealth, I make my Quarrell, in particular

West. There is no neede of any such redresse: Or if there were, it not belongs to you

Mow. Why not to him in part, and to vs all, That feele the bruizes of the dayes before, And suffer the Condition of these Times To lay a heauie and vnequall Hand vpon our Honors?

West. O my good Lord Mowbray, Construe the Times to their Necessities, And you shall say (indeede) it is the Time, And not the King, that doth you iniuries.

Yet for your part, it not appeares to me, Either from the King, or in the present Time, That you should haue an ynch of any ground To build a Griefe on: were you not restor'd To all the Duke of Norfolkes Seignories, Your n.o.ble, and right well-remembred Fathers?

Mow. What thing, in Honor, had my Father lost, That need to be reuiu'd, and breath'd in me?

The King that lou'd him, as the State stood then, Was forc'd, perforce compell'd to banish him: And then, that Henry Bullingbrooke and hee Being mounted, and both rowsed in their Seates, Their neighing Coursers daring of the Spurre, Their armed Staues in charge, their Beauers downe, Their eyes of fire, sparkling through sights of Steele, And the lowd Trumpet blowing them together: Then, then, when there was nothing could haue stay'd My Father from the Breast of Bullingbrooke; O, when the King did throw his Warder downe, (His owne Life hung vpon the Staffe hee threw) Then threw hee downe himselfe, and all their Liues, That by Indictment, and by dint of Sword, Haue since mis-carryed vnder Bullingbrooke

West. You speak (Lord Mowbray) now you know not what.

The Earle of Hereford was reputed then In England the most valiant Gentleman.

Who knowes, on whom Fortune would then haue smil'd?

But if your Father had beene Victor there, Hee ne're had borne it out of Couentry.

For all the Countrey, in a generall voyce, Cry'd hate vpon him: and all their prayers, and loue, Were set on Herford, whom they doted on, And bless'd, and grac'd, and did more then the King.

But this is meere digression from my purpose.

Here come I from our Princely Generall, To know your Griefes; to tell you, from his Grace, That hee will giue you Audience: and wherein It shall appeare, that your demands are iust, You shall enioy them, euery thing set off, That might so much as thinke you Enemies

Mow. But hee hath forc'd vs to compell this Offer, And it proceedes from Pollicy, not Loue

West. Mowbray, you ouer-weene to take it so: This Offer comes from Mercy, not from Feare.

For loe, within a Ken our Army lyes, Vpon mine Honor, all too confident To giue admittance to a thought of feare.

Our Battaile is more full of Names then yours, Our Men more perfect in the vse of Armes, Our Armor 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

Mow. Well, by my will, wee shall admit no Parley

West. That argues but the shame of your offence: A rotten Case abides no handling

Hast. Hath the Prince Iohn a full Commission, In very ample vertue of his Father, To heare, and absolutely to determine Of what Conditions wee shall stand vpon?

West. That is intended in the Generals Name: I muse you make so slight a Question

Bish. Then take (my Lord of Westmerland) this Schedule, For this containes our generall Grieuances: Each seuerall Article herein redress'd, All members of our Cause, both here, and hence, That are insinewed to this Action, Acquitted by a true substantiall forme, And present execution of our wills, To vs, and to our purposes confin'd, Wee come within our awfull Banks againe, And knit our Powers to the Arme of Peace

West. This will I shew the Generall. Please you Lords, In sight of both our Battailes, wee may meete At either end in peace: which Heauen so frame, Or to the place of difference call the Swords, Which must decide it

Bish. My Lord, wee will doe so

Mow. There is a thing within my Bosome tells me, That no Conditions of our Peace can stand

Hast. Feare you not, that if wee can make our Peace Vpon such large termes, and so absolute, As our Conditions shall consist vpon, Our Peace shall stand as firme as Rockie Mountaines

Mow. I, but our valuation shall be such, That euery slight, and false-deriued Cause, Yea, euery idle, nice, and wanton Reason, Shall, to the King, taste of this Action: That were our Royall faiths, Martyrs in Loue, Wee shall be winnowed with so rough a winde, That euen our Corne shall seeme as light as Chaffe, And good from bad finde no part.i.tion

Bish. No, no (my Lord) note this: the King is wearie Of daintie, and such picking Grieuances: For hee hath found, to end one doubt by Death, Reuiues two greater in the Heires of Life.

And therefore will hee wipe his Tables cleane, And keepe no Tell-tale to his Memorie, That may repeat, and Historie his losse, To new remembrance. For full well hee knowes, Hee cannot so precisely weede this Land, As his mis-doubts present occasion: His foes are so en-rooted with his friends, That plucking to vnfixe an Enemie, Hee doth vnfasten so, and shake a friend.

So that this Land, like an offensiue wife, That hath enrag'd him on, to offer strokes, As he is striking, holds his Infant vp, And hangs resolu'd Correction in the Arme, That was vprear'd to execution

Hast. Besides, the King hath wasted all his Rods, On late Offenders, that he now doth lacke The very Instruments of Chasticement: So that his power, like to a Fanglesse Lion May offer, but not hold

Bish. 'Tis very true: And therefore be a.s.sur'd (my good Lord Marshal) If we do now make our attonement well, Our Peace, will (like a broken Limbe vnited) Grow stronger, for the breaking

Mow. Be it so: Heere is return'd my Lord of Westmerland.

Enter Westmerland.

West. The Prince is here at hand: pleaseth your Lordship To meet his Grace, iust distance 'tweene our Armies?

Mow. Your Grace of Yorke, in heauen's name then forward

Bish. Before, and greet his Grace (my Lord) we come.

Enter Prince Iohn.

Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray) Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop, And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.

My Lord of Yorke, it better shew'd with you, When that your Flocke (a.s.sembled by the Bell) Encircled you, to heare with reuerence Your exposition on the holy Text, Then now to see you heere an Iron man Chearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme, Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death: That man that sits within a Monarches heart, And ripens in the Sunne-shine of his fauor, Would hee abuse the Countenance of the King, Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach, In shadow of such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop, It is euen so. Who hath not heard it spoken, How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen?

To vs, the Speaker in his Parliament; To vs, th' imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe: The very Opener, and Intelligencer, Betweene the Grace, the Sanct.i.ties of Heauen; And our dull workings. O, who shall beleeue, But you mis-vse the reuerence of your Place, Employ the Countenance, and Grace of Heauen, As a false Fauorite doth his Princes Name, In deedes dis-honorable? You haue taken vp, Vnder the counterfeited Zeale of Heauen, The Subiects of Heauens Subst.i.tute, my Father, And both against the Peace of Heauen, and him, Haue here vp-swarmed them

Bish. Good my Lord of Lancaster, I am not here against your Fathers Peace: But (as I told my Lord of Westmerland) The Time (mis-order'd) doth in common sence Crowd vs, and crush vs, to this monstrous Forme, To hold our safetie vp. I sent your Grace The parcels, and particulars of our Griefe, The which hath been with scorne shou'd from the Court: Whereon this Hydra-Sonne of Warre is borne, Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleepe, With graunt of our most iust and right desires; And true Obedience, of this Madnesse cur'd, Stoope tamely to the foot of Maiestie

Mow. If not, wee readie are to trye our fortunes, To the last man

Hast. And though wee here fall downe, Wee haue Supplyes, to second our Attempt: If they mis-carry, theirs shall second them.

And so, successe of Mischiefe shall be borne, And Heire from Heire shall hold this Quarrell vp, Whiles England shall haue generation

Iohn. You are too shallow (Hastings) Much too shallow, To sound the bottome of the after-Times

West. Pleaseth your Grace, to answere them directly, How farre-forth you doe like their Articles

Iohn. I like them all, and doe allow them well: And sweare here, by the honor of my blood, My Fathers purposes haue beene mistooke, And some, about him, haue too lauishly Wrested his meaning, and Authoritie.

My Lord, these Griefes shall be with speed redrest: Vpon my Life, they shall. If this may please you, Discharge your Powers vnto their seuerall Counties, As wee will ours: and here, betweene the Armies, Let's drinke together friendly, and embrace, That all their eyes may beare those Tokens home, Of our restored Loue, and Amitie

Bish. I take your Princely word, for these redresses

Iohn. I giue it you, and will maintaine my word: And thereupon I drinke vnto your Grace

Hast. Goe Captaine, and deliuer to the Armie This newes of Peace: let them haue pay, and part: I know, it will well please them.

High thee Captaine.

Enter.

Bish. To you, my n.o.ble Lord of Westmerland