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That Neptune's arms, who clippeth 6 thee about, To underprop this action ? is't not I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Have I not heard these islanders shout out, And not to spend it so unneighbourly!
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns ? Lew. A 'noble temper dost thou show in tnis; Have I not here the best cards for the game, And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, To win this easy match play'd for a crown? Do make an earthquake of nobility.
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ? 0, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
No, on my soul, it never shall be said. Between compulsion and a brave respect ! 7
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :
Till my attempt so much be glorified My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
As to my ample hope was promised Being an ordinary inundation ;
Before I drew this gallant head of war, But this effusion of such manly drops,
And culld these fiery spirits from the world, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, To outlook 9 conquest, and to win renown Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd Even in the jaws of danger and of death. — Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
[Trumpet souri's Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter the Bastard, attended.
Bast. According to the fair play of the world, That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
Let me have audience; I am sent to speak : Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
My holy lord of Milan, from the king Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ; Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep And, as you answer, I do know the scope Into the purse of rich prosperity,
And warrant limited unto my tongue. As Lewis himself: – so, nobles, shall you all,
Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.
And will not temporize with my entreaties;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.
Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, And even there, methinks an angel spake: The youth says well :- Now hear our English king; Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, That so stood out against the holy church,
From out the circle of his territories. The great metropolis and see of Rome :
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch'; And tame the savage spirit of wild war ;
To dive like buckets, in concealed wells; That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
To crouch in litter of your stable planks ; It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; And be no further harmful than in show.
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back; In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake, I am too high-born to be propertied 8,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow? To be a secondary at control,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, To any sovereign state throughout the world. That in your chambers gave you chastisement ? Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars, No: Know the gallant monarch is in arms; Between this chástis'd kingdom and myself,
And like an eagle o'er his aiery 3 towers, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb You taught me how to know the face of right, Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: Acquainted me with interest to this land,
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart ;
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; And come you now to tell me, John hath made
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? Their neelds 4 to lances, and their gentle hearts I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
To fierce and bloody inclination. After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; Lew. There end thy brave 5, and turn thy face in And, now it is half-conquer'd must I back,
peace ; Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well; Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, We hold our time too precious to be spent Wat men provided, what munition sent,
With such a brabbler.
• Leap over the hatch. Embraceth. 7 Love of country.
? The crowing of a cock. Appropriated.
9 Face down.
Give me leave to speak. For, if the French be lords of this loud day, Bast. No, I will speak.
He 8 means to recompense the pains you take, Lew.
We will attend to neither : By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn, Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war And I with him, and many more with me, Plead for our interest, and our being here. Upon the altar at St. Edmund's Bury; Bast. Indeed, your drums being beaten, will cry Even on that altar, where we swore to you out;
Dear amity and everlasting love. And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ? An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
Mel. Have I not hideous death with And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
Retaining but a quantity of life; That shall reverberate all as loud as thine ;
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Sound but another, and another sball,
Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire ? 9 As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's 6 ear,
What in the world should make me now deceive, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand since I must lose the use of all deceit? (Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Why should I then be false ; since it is true Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) That I must die here, and live hence by truth? Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits
say again, if Lewis do win the day, A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours To feast upon whole thousands of the French. Behold another day break in the east :
Lew. Strike up our drums to find this danger out. But even this night, - whose black contagious breath Best. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not Already smokes about the burning crest doubt.
[Exeunt. Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,
Even this ill night your breathing shall expire ; SCENE III. - A Field of Battle.
Paying the fine of rated treachery,
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Alarums. Enter King John and HUBERT.
If Lewis by your assistance win the day. K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Commend me to one Hubert, with your king ; Hubert,
The love of him, — and this respect besides, Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty ? For that my grandsire was an Englishman, K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Awakes my conscience to confess all this. Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!
In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Enter a Messenger.
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon- In peace, and part this body and my soul bridge,
With contemplation and devout desires. Desires your majesty to leave the field;
Sal. We do believe thee. — And beshrew my soul And send him word by me, which way you go.
But I do love the favour and the form K. John. Tell him toward Swinstead, to the abbey of this most fair occasion, by the which there.
We will unthread the steps of this our flight ; Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply And, like a bated and retired flood, That was expected by the Dauphin here,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, This news was brought to Richard but even now: And calmly run on in obedience, The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. Even to our ocean, to our great king John.
K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; And will not let me welcome this good news. For I do see the cruel pangs of death Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight : Right in thine eye. — Away, my friends! New flight: Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Ereunt. | And happy newness ', that intends old right.
(Exeunt, leading off MELUN. SCENE IV. - Another Part of the same.
SCENE V. - The French Camp.
Enter Lewis and his Train.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to
set; If they miscarry, we miscarry too. Sal. That misbegotten devil
But stay'd and made the western welkin blush,
When the English measur'd backward their own In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off,
ground, the field.
When with a volley of our needless shot, Enter Melon wounded, and led by Soldiers.
After such bloody toil we bid good night; Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up, Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Pem. It is the count Melun.
Enter a Messenger. Sal.
Wounded to death.
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ?
Here: What news ?
Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
By bis persuasion, are again fall’n off :
9 In allusion to the images made by witches * A proverb intimating treachery.
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Away, before! conduct me to the king;
SCENE VII. - The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey.
P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,) Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care
Doth by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.
Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds
belief, hood of Swinstead-Abbey.
That, being brought into the open air, Enter the Bastard and HUBERT meeting.
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which assaileth him. Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly,
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard or I shoot.
here. Bast. A friend : What art thou?
Doth he still rage?
[Erit BIGOT. Pem.
He is more patient Bast. Whither dost thou go? Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand Than when you left him; even now he sung.
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine ?
In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Bast. Hubert, I think. Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought : Leaves them insensihle ; and his siege is now
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, I will upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well : with many legions
of strange fantasies ;
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds Who art thou? Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think
should sing I come one way of the Plantagenets Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ;
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, night, Have done me shame: Brave soldier, pardon me,
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest. That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
To set a form upon that indigest Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in King To find you out.
John in a Chair. Bast.
Brief, then ; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow. Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
room ; Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news ; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :
That all my bowels crumble up to dust : I left him almost speechless, and broke out
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Do I shrink up.
P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?
cast off ; Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
And none of you will bid the winter come, Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all come Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north back,
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And brought prince Henry in their company;
And comfort me with cold:-I do not ask you much, At whose request the king hath pardon`d them,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so straits And they are all about his majesty.
And so ingrateful, you deny me that. Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven!
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, And tempt us not to bear above our power!
That might relieve you !
Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. On unreprievable condemned blood.
3 Narrow, avaricious,
Enter the Bastard.
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,
And brings from him such offers of our peace And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
As we with honour and respect may take, K. John. O cousín, thou art come to set mine eye: With purpose presently to leave this war. The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ;
Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. Are turned to one thread, one little hair :
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already ; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, For many carriages he hath despatch'd Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod,
To the disposing of the cardinal : And module 4 of confounded royalty.
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; If you think meet, this afternoon will post Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him: To cónsummate this business happily. For, in a night, the best part of my power,
Bast. Let it be so : – · And you, my noble prince, As I upon advantage did remove.
With other princes that may best be spar'd, Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral. Devoured by the unexpected food. [The King dies.
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'a ; Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an For so he will'd it.
Thither shall it then. My liege! my lord! - But now a king, — now thus. And happily may your sweet self put on
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom, with all submission, on my knee,
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, And then my soul sball wait on thee to heaven,
To rest without a spot for evermore. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.
P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres,
thanks, Where he your powers ? Show now your mended And knows not how to do it, but with tears. faiths;
Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, And instantly return with me again,
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
This England never did (nor never shall) Out of the weak door of our fainting land :
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; But when it first did help to wound itself. The Dauphin rages at our very heels.
Now these her princes are come home again, Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we: Come the three corners of the world in arms, The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,
And we shall shock them: Nought shall make us rue, * Model
If England to itself do rest but true. (Ereunt.
King RICHARD THE Second.
LORD Ross. LORD WILLOUGHBY. EDMUND OF LANGLEY, Duke of York; 1 Uncles to Lord FitzWATER. John of GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster; s the King. Bishop OF CARLISLE. ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER HENRY, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, Lord Marshal; and another Lord.
Son to John of Gaunt; afterwards K. Henry IV. SIR PIERCE OF Exton. SIR STEPHEN SCROOP. DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son lo the Duke of York. Captain of a Band of Welshmen. MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk. DUKE OF SURREY.
QUEEN to King Richard. EARL OF SALISBURY. EARL BERKELEY.
DUCHESS OF GLOSTER. BUSHY,
DUCHESS OF YORK.
Lady attending on the Queen.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners. HENRY Percy, his Son.
Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. SCENE, dispersedly in England and I'ales.
SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In Enter King RICHARD, attended : John of GAUNT,
rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. and other Nobles, with him.
Re-enter Altendants, with BOLINGBROKE and K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd
NORFOLK. Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band ', Boling. May many years of happy days befal Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son ; My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Add an immortal title to your crown! Gaunt. I have, my liege.
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flat. K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
ters us, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
As well appeareth by the cause you come; Or worthily as a good subject should,
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. On some known ground of treachery in him ? Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argu- Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? ment,
Boling. First, (heaven be the record to my On some apparent danger seen in him,
speech!) Aim'd at your highness; no inveterate malice. In the devotion of a subject's love, K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face Tendering the precious safety of my prince, to face,
And free from other misbegotten hate, and frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear Come I appellant to this princely presence. The accuser, and the accused, freely speak : Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, (Ereunt some Altendants. And mark my greeting well ; for what I speak,
My body shall make good upon this earth,