my lord and gentle cousin, Mowbray. You wish me health in very happy season; For I am, on the sudden, something ill. Against ill chances men are ever merry; But heaviness foreruns the good event. Therefore be merry, coz; since sudden sorrow Serves to say thus, 'some good thing comes to-morrow.' Believe me, I am passing light in spirit. So much the worse, if your own rule be true. The word of peace is render'd: hark, how they shout! This had been cheerful after victory. A peace is of the nature of a conquest; For then both parties nobly are subdued, And neither party loser. Go, my lord, And let our army be discharged too. And, good my lord, so please you, let our trains March, by us, that we may peruse the men We should have coped withal. Go, good Lord Hastings, And, ere they be dismissed, let them march by. I trust, lords, we shall lie to-night together. Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? The leaders, having charge from you to stand, Will not go off until they hear you speak. They know their duties. My lord, our army is dispersed already; Like youthful steers unyoked, they take their courses East, west, north, south; or, like a school broke up, Each hurries toward his home and sporting-place. Good tidings, my Lord Hastings; for the which I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason: And you, lord archbishop, and you, Lord Mowbray, Of capitol treason I attach you both. Is this proceeding just and honourable? Is your assembly so? Will you thus break your faith? I pawn'd thee none: I promised you redress of these same grievances Whereof you did complain; which, by mine honour, I will perform with a most Christian care. But for you, rebels, look to taste the due Meet for rebellion and such acts as yours. Most shallowly did you these arms commence, Fondly brought here and foolishly sent hence. Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter'd stray: God, and not we, hath safely fought to-day. Some guard these traitors to the block of death, Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath. What's your name, sir? of what condition are you, and of what place, I pray? I am a knight, sir, and my name is Colevile of the dale. Well, then, Colevile is your name, a knight is your degree, and your place the dale: Colevile shall be still your name, a traitor your degree, and the dungeon your place, a place