then he burst his head, for crowding among the marshal's men. I saw it; and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own name: for you might have trussed 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 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 I may snap at him. Let time shape, and there an end. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. A forest in Yorkshire. Enter ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, MOWBRAY, HASTINGS, and others. Arch. What is this forest call'd? Has. "Tis Gualtree forest, an 't shall please your grace. Arch. Here stand, my lords; and send discoverers forth, To know the numbers of our enemies. Has. We have sent forth already. Arch. 'Tis well done. My friends, and brethren in these great affairs, New-dated letters from Northumberland; Their cold intent, tenor, and substance thus :— Mow. Thus do the hopes we have in him touch ground, And dash themselves to pieces. Has. Enter MESSENGER. Now, what news? Mes. 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. Mow. The just proportion that we gave them out. Let us sway on, and face them in the field. Enter WESTMORELAND. 2 Arch. What well-appointed leader fronts us here? Mow. I think, it is my lord of Westmoreland. 1 Be suitable 2 Completely accoutred. West. Health and fair greeting from our general, The prince, lord John and duke of Lancaster. Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, in peace: What doth concern your coming? West. Then, my lord, The substance of my speech. If that rebellion With your fair honors. You, lord archbishop,- Whose beard the silver hand of peace hath touch'd; Whose learning and good letters peace hath tutor'd; 1 Faced, turned up. Arch. Wherefore do I this?—so the question stands. Briefly to this end :—We are all diseased; And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 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 have the summary of all our griefs, 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 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 forged rebellion with a seal divine, And consecrate commotion's bitter edge? Arch. My brother general, the commonwealth, To brother born an household cruelty, I make my quarrel in particular.1 West. There is no need of any such redress; Or, if there were, it not belongs to you. Mow. 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 honors ? West. O, my good lord Mowbray, ་ My general brother, the commonwealth, is the general ground of our taking up arms; the cruelty shown to my natural brother, is my particular ground for engaging in this war.'--Malone. |