Act 4 - Scene 2
Another part of the forest.
Enter, from one side, MOWBRAY, attended; afterwards the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, HASTINGS, and
others: from the other side, Prince John of LANCASTER, and WESTMORELAND; Officers, and others
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.
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 abrooch
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
To us the speaker in his parliament;
To us the imagined voice of God himself;
The very opener and
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven
And our dull workings. O, who shall believe
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 ta'en up,
Under the counterfeited zeal of God,
subjects of his substitute, my father,
And both against the peace of heaven and him
Have here up-swarm'd
ARCHBISHOP OF YORK
Good my Lord of Lancaster,
I am not here against your father's peace;
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland,
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 shoved
from the court,
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born;
Whose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd asleep
grant of our most just and right desires,
And true obedience, of this madness cured,
Stoop tamely to the
foot of majesty.
If not, we ready are to try our fortunes
To the last man.
And though we here fall down,
We have supplies to second our attempt:
If they miscarry, theirs shall second
And so success of mischief shall be born
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up
shall have generation.
You are too shallow, Hastings, much too shallow,
To sound the bottom of the after-times.
Pleaseth your grace to answer them directly
How far forth you do like their articles.
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.
these griefs shall be with speed redress'd;
Upon my soul, they shall. If this may please you,
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.
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