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Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world; honest Ned, none. I dispraised him before the wicked, that the wicked might not fall in love with him:-in which doing, I have done the part of a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, Hal;-none, Ned, none;-no, boys, none.

P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us? Is she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the wicked? Or is the boy of the wicked? Or honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, of the wicked?

Poins. Answer, thou dead elm, answer.

Fal. The fiend hath pricked down Bardolph irrecoverable: and his face is Lucifer's privykitchen, where he doth nothing but roast maltworms. For the boy, there is a good angel about him; but the devil outbids him too. P. Hen. For the women,

Fal. For one of them, she is in hell already, and burns, poor soul! For the other,-I owe her money; and whether she be damned for that, I know not.

Host. No, I warrant you.

Fal. No, I think thou art not; I think, thou art quit for that: Marry, there is another indictment upon thee, for suffering flesh to be eaten in thy house, contrary to the law; for the which, I think, thou wilt howl.

Host. All victuallers do so: What's a joint

of mutton or two in a whole Lent? P. Hen. You, gentlewoman,Dol. What says your grace?

Fal. His grace says that which his flesh rebels against.

Host. Who knocks so loud at door? look to the door there, Francis.

Enter PETO.

P. Hen. Peto, how now? what news?

ready to burst:-Well, sweet Jack, have a care of thyself. Fal. Farewell, farewell.

[Exeunt FALSTAFF and BARDOlph. Host. Well, fare thee well: I have known thee these twenty-nine years, come peascodtime, but an honester, and truer-hearted man, -Well, fare thee well.

Bard. [Within.] Mistress Tear-sheet,-
Host. What's the matter?

Bard. [Within.] Bid mistress Tear-sheet come to my master.

Host. O run, Doll, run; run, good Doll. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE 1.-A Room in the Palace. Enter King HENRY in his Nightgown, with a PAGE.

K. Hen. Go, call the earls of Surrey and of Warwick; [letters, But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these And well consider of them: Make good speed.[Exit PAGE.

How many thousand of my poorest subjects
Are at this hour asleep!-Sleep, gentle sleep,
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down,
And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs,
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee,
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy
slumber;

Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great,
Under the canopies of costly state,

And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?
O thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile,
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly
couch,

A watch-case, or a common 'larum be!!?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast

Peto. The king your father is at Westmin-Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his

ster;

And there are twenty weak and wearied posts,
Come from the north: and, as I came along,
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, [verns,
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the ta-
And asking every one for Sir John Falstaff.
P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel me much
to blame,

So idly to profane the precious time;
When tempest of commotion, like the south
Borne with black vapour, doth begin to melt,
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads.
Give me my sword, and cloak :-Falstaff, good
night.

[Exeunt Prince HENRY, POINS, PETO, and

BARDOLPH.

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of the night, and we must hence, and leave it unpicked. [Knocking heurd.] More knocking at the door?

Re-enter BARDOLPH.

How now? what's the matter?

Bard. You must away to court, Sir, presently; a dozen captains stay at door for you.

Fal. Pay the musicians, sirrah. [To the PAGE.]-Farewell, hostess;-farewell, Doll. You see, my good wenches, how men of merit are sought after: the undeserver may sleep, when the man of action is called on. Farewell, good wenches: If I be not sent away post, I will see you again ere I go.

Dol. I cannot speak;-If my heart be not

brains

And in the visitation of the winds,
In cradle of the rude imperious surge;
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,

them

With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly,* death itself awakes?
Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude;
And, in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie

down!

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Enter WARWICK and SURREY.

War. Many good morrows to your majesty!
K. Hen. Is it good morrow, lords?
War. "Tis one o'clock, and past.

K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all, my lords,

Have you read o'er the letters that I sent you? War. We have, my liege.

K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our

kingdom

How foul it is; what rank diseases grow, { And with what danger, near the heart of it.

War. It is but as a body, yet, distemper'd; Which to his former strength may be restor'd, With good advice, and little medicine:My lord Northumberland will soon be cool'd.

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K. Hen. O heaven! that one might read the
book of fate;

And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level, and the continent
(Weary of solid firmness,) melt itself
Into the sea! and, other times, to see
The beachy girdle of the ocean [mock,
Too wide for Neptune's hips: how chances
And changes fill the cup of alteration
With divers liquors! O, if this were seen,
The happiest youth,-viewing his progress
through,

What perils past, what crosses to ensue,~~
Would shut the book, and sit him down and
"Tis not ten years gone,
[die.
Since Richard, and Northumberland, great

friends,

Did feast together, and in two years after,
Were they at wars: It is but eight years, since
This Percy was the man nearest my soul;
Who like a brother toil'd in my affairs,
And laid his love and life under my foot;
Yea, for my sake, even to the eyes of Richard,
Gave him defiance. But which of you was by,
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember,)
[To WARWICK.
When Richard,with his eye brimfull of tears,
Then check'd and rated by Northumberland,—
Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy?
Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which
My cousin Bolingbroke uscends my throne;-
Though then, heaven knows, I had no such
intent;

But that necessity so bow'd the state,
That I and greatness were compell'd to kiss:-
The time shall come, thus did he follow it,
The time will come, that foul sin, gathering
head,

Shall break into corruption:-so went on,
Foretelling this same time's condition,
And the division of our amity.

War. There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd:
The which observ'd, a man may prophecy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life; which in their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie intreasured.
Such things become the hatch and brood of
And by the necessary form of this, [time;
King Richard might create a perfect guess,
That great Northumberland, then false to him,
Would, of that seed, grow to a greater false-

ness;

Which should not find a ground to root upon, Unless on you.

K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities:

And that same word even now cries out on us; They say, the bishop and Northumberland Are fifty thousand strong.

War. It cannot be, my lord;
Rumour doth double, like the voice and echo,
The numbers of the fear'd:-Please it your
grace,

To go to bed; upon my life, my lord,
The powers that you already have sent forth,
Shall bring this prize in very easily.
To comfort you the more, I have receiv'd
A certain instance, that Glendower is dead.
Your majesty hath been this fortnight ill;
And these unseason'd hours, perforce, must
Unto your sickness.

SCENE II-Court before Justice SHALLOW'S House in Gloucestershire.

Enter SHALLOW and SILENCE, meeting; MOULDY, SHADOW, WART, FEEBLE, BULL-CALF, and Servants, behind.

Shal. Come on, come on, come on; give me your hand, Sir, give me your hand, Sir: an early stirrer, by the rood. And how doth my good cousin Silence?

Sil. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bedfellow? and your fairest daughter, and mine, my god-daughter Ellen?

Sil. Alas, a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. Shal. By yea and nay, Sir, I dare say, my cousin William is become a good scholar: He is at Oxford, still, is he not?

Sil. Indeed, Sir; to my cost.

Shal. He must then to the inns of court shortly: I was once of Clement's-inn; where I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet. Sil. You were called-lasty Shallow, then, cousin.

Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing; and I would have done any thing, indeed, and roundly too. There was I, and little Joh Doit of Staffordshire, and black George Bare and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele Cotswold man,-you had not four such swinge bucklers in all the inns of court again: and I may say to you, we knew where the bona robast were; and had the best of them all a commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now Sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mow bray, duke of Norfolk.

Sil. This Sir John, cousin, that comes hither anon about soldiers?

I

Shal. The same Sir John, the very same. saw him break Skogan's head at the court gate, when he was a crack, not thus high: and the very same day did I fight with one Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray's-inn. o the mad days that I have spent! and to see how many of mine old acquaintance are dead! Sil. We shall all follow, cousin.

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very sure: death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair?

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there.

Shal. Death is certain.-Is old Double of your town living yet?

Sil. Dead, Sir.

Shal. Dead!-See, see!-he drew a good bow; And dead!-he shot a fine shoot:John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted have clapped i'the clout at twelve score ;|| and much money on his head. Dead!-he would carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen and fourteen and a half, that it would have done a man's heart good to see.-) How a score of

ewes now?

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good ewes may be worth ten pounds. Shal. And is old Double dead!

Enter BARDOLPH, and one with him. Sil. Here come two of Sir John Falstat s men, as I think.

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen: I beseech [add you, which is justice Shallow? Shal. I am Robert Shallow, Sir; a poor es

K. Hen. I will take your counsel: And, were these inward wars once out of hand, We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. [Exeunt.

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Ladies of pleasure.
Hit the white mark at twelve score yards.

quire of this county, and one of the king's jus- | Know you where you are?-For the other, Sir tices of the peace: What is your good pleasure John:-let me see;-Simon Shadow!

with me?

Bard. My captain, Sir, commends him to you my captain, Sir John Falstaff: a tall* gentleman, by heaven, and a most gallant leader.

Shal. He greets me well, Sir; I knew him a good backsword man: How doth the good knight? may I ask, how my lady his wife doth?

Bard. Sir, pardon; a soldier is better accommodated, than with a wife.

Shal. It is well said, in faith, Sir; and it is well said indeed too. Better accommodated! -it is good; yea, indeed, it is: good phrases are surely, and ever were, very commendable. Accommodated!-it comes from accommodo: very good; a good phrase.

Bard. Pardon me, Sir: I have heard the word. Phrase, call you it? By this good day, I know not the phrase: but I will maintain the word with my sword, to be a soldier-like word, and a word of exceeding good command. Accommodated; That is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated: or, when a man is,-being, whereby, he may be thought to be accommodated; which is an excellent thing.

Enter FALSTAFF.

Shal. It is very just:-Look, here comes good Sir John.-Give me your hand, give me your worship's good hand: By my troth, you look well, and bear your years very well: welcome, good Sir John.

Fal. I am glad to see you well, good master Robert Shallow-Master Sure-card, as I

think.

Shal. No, Sir John; it is my cousin Silence, in commission with me.

Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you should be of the peace.

Sil. Your good worship is welcome. Fal. Fie! this is hot weather.-Gentlemen, have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men?

Shal. Marry, have we, Sir. Will you sit? Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. Shal. Where's the roll? where's the roll? where's the roll ?-Let me see, let me see. So, so, so, so: Yea, marry, Sir:-Ralph Mouldy: -let them appear as I call; let them do so, let them do so.- Let me see; Where is Mouldy? Moul. Here, an't please you.

Shal. What think you, Sir John? a good limbed fellow: young, strong, and of good friends.

Fal. Is thy name Mouldy?
Moul. Yea, an't please you.

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used.
Shal. Ha, ha, ha! most excellent, i'faith!
things, that are mouldy, lack use: Very singu-
lar good!--In faith, well said, Sir John; very
well said.

Fal. Prick him.

[To SHALLOW. Moul. I was pricked well enough before, an you could have let me alone: my old dame will be undone now, for one to do her husbandry, and her drudgery: you need not to have pricked me; there are other men fitter to go out than I.

Fal. Go to; peace, Mouldy, you shall go.
Mouldy, it is time you were spent.
Moul. Spent!

Fal. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under: he's like to be a cold soldier. Shal. Where's Shadow?

Shad. Here, Sir.

Ful. Shadow, whose son art thou?
Shad. My mother's son, Sir.

Fal. Thy mother's son! like enough; and thy father's shadow: so the son of the female is the shadow of the male: It is often so, indeed; but not much of the father's substance. Shal. Do you like him, Sir John?

Fal. Shadow will serve for summer,-prick him;-for we have a number of shadows to fill up the muster-book.

Shal. Thomas Wart!
Fal. Where's he?
Wart. Here, Sir.
Fal. Is thy name Wart?
Wurt. Yea, Sir.

Fal. Thou art a very ragged wart.
Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir John?

Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel is built upon his back, and the whole frame stands upon pins: prick him no more.

Shal. Ha, ha, ha!-you can do it, Sir; you can do it: I commend you well.-Francis Feeble!

Fee. Here, Sir.

Fal. What trade art thou, Feeble?
Fee. A woman's tailor, Sir.

Shal. Shall I prick him, Sir?

Fal. You may: but if he had been a man's tailor, he would have pricked you.-Wilt thou make as many holes in an enemy's battle, as thou hast done in a woman's petticoat?

Fee. I will do my good will, Sir; you can have no more.

Fal. 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.

Fee. I would, Wart might have gone, Sir.

Fal. I would, thou wert a man's tailor; that thou might'st mend 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.

Fee. It shall suffice, Sir.

Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble.-
Who is next?

Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the green!
Fal. Yea, marry, let us see Bull-calf.
Bull. Here, Sir.

Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow!--Come, prick me Bull-calf till he roar again.

Bull. O lord! good my lord captain,-
Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art
pricked?

Bull. O lord, Sir! I am a diseased man.
Fal. What disease hast thou?

Bull. A whoreson cold, Sir; a cough, Sir; which I caught with ringing in the king's affairs, upon his coronation day, Sir.

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a gown; we will have away thy cold; and I will take such order, that thy friends shall ring for thee.-Is here all?

Shal. Here is two more called than your number; you must have but four here, Sir;and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but I Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in good troth, master Shallow.

* Brave.

Shal. O, Sir John, do you remember since

we lay all night in the windmill in St. George's fields.

Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, no more of that.

Shal. Ha, it was a merry night. And is Jane Night-work alive?

Fal. She lives, master Shallow.

Shal. She never could away with me. Fal. Never, never: she would always say, she could not abide master Shallow,

Shal. By the mass, I could anger her to the heart. She was then a bona-roba. Doth she hold her own well?

Fal. Old, old, master Shallow.

Shal. Nay, she must be old; she cannot choose but be old; certain, she's old; and had Robin Night-work by old Night-work, before I came to Clement's-inn.

Sil. That's fifty-five year ago.
Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that thou hadst
seen that that this knight and I have seen!-
Ha, Sir John, said I well?

Fal. We have heard the chimes at midnight, master Shallow.

Shal. 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 :-O, the days that we have seen!-Come, come.

[Exeunt FALSTAFF, SHALLOW, and SILENCE. Bull. Good master corporate Bardolph, stand my friend; and here is four Harry ten shillings in French crowns for you. In very truth, Sir, I had as lief be hanged, 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 with my friends; else, Sir, I did not care, for mine own part, so much.

Bard. Go to; stand aside.

Moul. And good master corporal captain, for my old dame's sake, stand my friend: she has nobody to do any thing about her, when I am gone: and she is old, and cannot help herself: you shall have forty, Sir.

Bard. Go to; stand aside.
Fee. By my troth I care not;-a man can die
but once; we owe God 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 his
prince; and, let it go which way it will, he that
dies this year, is quit for the next.

Bard. Well said; thou'rt a good fellow.
Fee. 'Faith, I'll bear no base mind.

Re-enter FALSTAFF, and Justices.
Fal. Come, Sir, which men shall I have?
Shul. Four, of which you please.
Bard. Sir, a word with you:-I have three
pound to free Mouldy and Bull-calf.
Fal. Go to; well.

-Here's Wart;-you see what a ragged ap-
pearance it is: he shall charge you, and dis-
charge you, with the motion of a pewterer's
hammer; come off, and on, swifter than he that
And this
gibbets-on the brewer's bucket.
same half-fac'd fellow, Shadow,-give me this
man; he presents no mark to the enemy; the
foeman may with as great aim level at the
edge of a penknife: And, for a retreat,-how
swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's tailor,
run off? O, give me the spare men, and spare
me the great ones.-Put me a calivert into
Wart's hand, Bardolph.

Bard. Hold, Wart, traverse; thus, thus, thus.

Ful. Come, manage me your caliver. So:very well:-go to:-very good:-exceeding good.-O, give me always a little, lean, old, chapped, bald shot.-Well said, i'faith Wart; thou'rt a good scab: hold, there's a tester for

thee.

Shal. He is not his craft's-master, he doth green, not do it right. I remember at Mile-end (when I lay at Clement's inn,-I was 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 again would 'a go, and again would 'a come :-I shall never see such a fellow.

Fal. These fellows will do well, master Shallow.-God keep you, 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.

Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and prosper your affairs, and send us peace! As you return, visit my house; let our old acquaintance be renewed: peradventure, I will with you to the court.

Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. Fare you well. [Exeunt SHALLOW and SILENCE. Fal. Fare you well, gentle gentlemen. On, Bardolph; lead the men away. [Exeunt BARDOLPH, Recruits, &c.] 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 starved 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 he was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife: he was so forlorn, that his dimensions

Shal. Come, Sir John, which four will you to any thick sight were invisible: he was the have?

Fal. Do you choose for me.

Shal. Marry then,-Mouldy, Bull-calf, Feeble, and Shadow.

Fal. Mouldy, and Bull-calf:-For you, Mouldy, stay at home still; you are past service:and, for your part, Bull-calf,-grow till you come unto it; I will none of you.

Shal. Sir John, Sir John, do not yourself wrong: they are your likeliest men, and I would have you served with the best.

Fal. Will you tell me, master Shallow, how to choose a man? Care I for the limb, the thewes, the stature, bulk, and big assemblance of a man Give me the spirit, master Shallow.

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very Genius of famine; yet lecherous as a monkey, and the whores called him-mandrake: he came ever in the rear-ward of the fashion; and sung those tunes to the over-scutched huswives that he heard the carmen whistle, and sware-they were his fancies, or his goodnights.** And now is this Vice's daggertt become a squire; and talks as familiarly of John of Gaunt, as if he had been sworn brother to him: and I'll be sworn he never saw him but once

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in the Tilt-yard; and then he burst his head, for crowding among the marshal's inen. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name for you might have truss'd him, and all his apparel, into an eel-skin; the case of a treble haut-boy was a mansion for him, a court; and now has he land and beeves. Well; I will be acquainted with him, if I return and it shall go hard, but I will 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 may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. [Exit. ACT IV.

SCENE 1.-A Forest in Yorkshire. Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS, and others.

Arch. What is this forest call'd? Hast. 'Tis Gaultree forest, an't shall please your grace.

Arch. Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth,

To know the numbers of our enemies.
Hast. We have sent forth already.
Arch. "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, tenor, 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.
Mowb. Thus do the hopes we have in him
touch ground,

And dash themselves to pieces.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Hast. Now, what news?

Mess. 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

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Let us sway on, and face them in the field.

Enter WESTMORELAND. Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us here?

Mowb. I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland.

West. Health and fair greeting from our general,

The prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster.
Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in
What doth concern your coming? [peace;
West. 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 rage,
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 [bishop,
With your fair honours. You, lord arch-

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Whose see is by a civil peace maintain'd; Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd; [tor'd; Whose learning and good letters peace hath tuWhose white investments figure innocence, The dove and very blessed spirit of peace,Wherefore do you 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 lauces; and your tongue divine To a loud trumpet, and a point of war?

Arch. 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 a while like fearful war,
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness; [stop
And purge the obstructions, which begin to
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 sphere
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
We are denied access unto his person [griefs,
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,)
Have 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.

West. 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?
Arch. My brother general, the common-
wealth,

To brother born an household cruelty,
I make my quarrel in particular.

West. There is no need of any such redress; Or, if there were, it not belongs to you.

Mowb. Why not to him, in part; and to us That feel the bruises of the days before; [all, And suffer the condition of these times To lay a heavy and unequal hand Upon our honours?

West. 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,

* Grievances.

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