Archbishop of York

Lord Bardolph
The question, then, Lord Hastings, standeth thus:
Whether our present five-and-twenty thousand
May hold up head without Northumberland.
Lord Hastings
With him we may.
Lord Bardolph
Yea, marry, there’s the point.
But if without him we be thought too feeble,
My judgment is we should not step too far
Till we had his assistance by the hand.
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Let us on,
And publish the occasion of our arms.
The commonwealth is sick of their own choice.
Their over-greedy love hath surfeited.
An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart.

O thou fond many, with what loud applause
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke
Before he was what thou wouldst have him be.
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Westmoreland 
Health and fair greeting from our general,
The Prince Lord John and Duke of Lancaster.
Archbishop 
Say on, my Lord of Westmoreland, in peace,
What doth concern your coming.

Turning your books to graves, your ink to blood,
Your pens to lances, and your tongue divine
To a loud trumpet and a point of war

Westmoreland
Then,
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Mowbray
There is a thing within my bosom tells me
That no conditions of our peace can stand.
Hastings
Fear you not that. If we can make our peace
Upon such large terms and so absolute
As our conditions shall consist upon,
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.

His foes are so enrooted with his friends
That,
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John of Lancaster
You are well encountered 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 showed 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,
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