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Our armour all as strong, our cause the best;
parley. West. That argues but the shame of your offence: A rotten case abides no handling.
Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission,
West. That is intended in the general's name:
schedule; For this contains our general grievances : Each several article herein redress’d; All members of our cause, both here and hence, That are insinew'd to this action, Acquitted by a true substantial form; And present execution of our wills To us, and to our purposes, consignd; We come within our awful banks again, And knit our powers to the arm of peace. West. This will I show the general. Please you,
lords, In sight of both our battles we may meet : And either end in peace, which heaven so frame! Or to the place of difference call the swords Which must decide it.
My lord, we will do so.
[Exit West. Mowl. There is a thing within my bosom, tells
me, That no conditions of our peace can stand. Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make our
Mowb. Ay, but our valuation shall be such,
That, plucking to unfix an enemy,
Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his rods
instruments of chastisement:
'Tis very true;-
Be it so.
Re-enter WESTMORELAND. West. The prince is here at hand: Pleaseth your
lordship, To meet his grace just distance 'tween our armies? Mowl. Your grace of York, in God's name then
set forward. Arch. Before, and greet his grace:-my lord, we
[Exeunt. SCENE II.
Another Part of the Forest.
Enter from one side MOWBRAY, the Archbishop,
HASTINGS, and others: from the other side, Prince John of LANCASTER, WESTMORELAND, Officers, and Attendants.
P. John. 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 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, the imagind voice of God himself;
The very opener, and intelligencer,
lord of Lancaster,
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.
Mowl. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
And though we here fall down,