Dear amity and everlasting love.
Whom he hath used rather for sport than need), | Even on that altar, where we swore to you Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. A Field of Battle. Alarums. Enter King JOHN and HUBERT. K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.
Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long,
Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick! Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faul- conbridge,
Desires your majesty to leave the field; And send him word by me, which way you go. K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. [ply, Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great sup- That was expected by the Dauphin bere, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. [now: This news was brought to Richard but even The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of
Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and
Sal. I did not think the king so stored with [French; Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the field. Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldierss. Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy, we had other Pem. It is the Count Melun. [names. Wounded to death. Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold*;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; For, if the French be lords of this loud day, Het means to recompense the pains you take, By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn, And I with him, and many more with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury;
Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my Retaining but a quantity of life; [view, Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now de- Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? [ceive, Why should I then be false; since it is true That I must die here, and live hence by truth? I say again, if Lewis do win the day, He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east: [breath But even this night,-whose black contagious Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,- Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire; Paying the fine of rated treachery, Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, If Lewis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; The love of him,-and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman,- Awakes my conscience to confess all this. In lieu whereof, I pray yon bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires.
Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew But I do love the favour and the form [my soul Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight; And, like a bated and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'er- [look'd, And calmly run on in obedience, Even to our ocean, to our great king John. -- My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death [flight; Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New And happy newness **, that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off MELUN.
SCENE V. The same. The French Camp. Enter LEWIS and his Train.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set; [blush, But stay'd, and inade the western welkin t When the English measured backward their own ground,
In faint retire: O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Enter a Messenger. Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? Lew. Here:-What news? Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English By his persuasion, are again fallen off: [lords, And your supply, which you have wish'd so long,
A proverb intimating treachery. In allusion to the images made by witches. Ill betide. Immediate. ** Innovation,
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy very heart!
I did not think to be so sad to night, As this hath made me.-Who was he, that said, King Johu did fly, an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers? Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. Lew. Well; keep good quarter*, and good care to-night;
The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide, These Lincoln washes have devoured them; Myself well-mounted, hardly have escaped. Away, before! conduct me to the king; I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come.
[Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Orchard of SwinsteadAbbey.
Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.
P. Ien. It is too late; the life of all his blood
SCENE VI. An open Place in the Neigh-Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
bourhood of Swinstead-Abbey.
Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly
Bast. A friend :-What art thou? Hub. Of the part of England. Bast. Whither dost thou go? [demand Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Bast. Hubert, I think. Hub.
Thou hast a perfect thought: I will upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so Who art thou? [well: Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think 1 come one way of the Plantagenets.
Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night, [me, Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment,
Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow To find you out. [of night, Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. [news; Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk:
I left him almost speechless, and broke out To acquaint you with this evil; that you might The better arm you to the sudden time, Than if you had at leisure known of this.
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him?
IIub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king Yet speaks, aud, peradventure, may recover. Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? [all come back, Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are And brought prince Henry in their company; At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his majesty. [heaven, Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty And tempt us not to bear above our power!
* In your posts or stations.
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellinghouse),
Doth by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality. Enter PEMBROKE.
Pem. His Highness yet doth speak; and holds belief,
That being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.-
[Exit BIGOT. He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he sung. P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce ex
In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies; Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, [should sing. Confound themselves. Tis strange, that death I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death; And, from the organ-pipe of trailty, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest.
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you To set a form upon that indigest [are born Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring in King JOHN in a Chair.
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room;
It would not out at windows, nor at doors, There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust: I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen Upon a parchment; and against this fire Do I shrink up.
P. Hen. How fares your majesty? K. John. Poison'd,-ill fare;-dead, for- sook, cast off:
And none of you will bid the winter come, To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,
And spleen of speed to see your Majesty. K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye:
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should Are turned to one thread, one little hair: [sail, My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod, And modulet of confounded royalty.
Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; Where, heaven he knows, how we sball answer him:
For, in a night, the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the washes, all unwarily, Devoured by the unexpected flood.
[The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead [thns. My liege! my lord!-But now a king,--now P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even 80 step. [stay, What surety of the world, what hope, what When this was now a king, and now is clay! Bast. Art thou gone so? 1 do but stay beTo do the office for thee of revenge! [hind, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, [mended faiths; Where be your powers? Show now your And instantly return with me again,
To push destruction, and perpetual shame, Out of the weak door of our fainting land: Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be The Dauphin rages at our very heels. [sought; Sal. It seems, you know not then so much
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; And brings from him such offers of our peace As we with honour and respect may take, With purpose presently to leave this war. Bust. He will the rather do it, when he sees Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.
Sul. Nay, it is in a manner done already; For many carriages he hath despatch'd To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel To the disposing of the cardinal: With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post, To consummate this business happily. [prince,
Bust. Let it be so:-And you, my noble With other princes that may best be spared, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. [terr'd; P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be inFor so he will'd it.
And happily may your sweet self put on The lineal state and glory of the land! To whom, with all submission, on my knee, I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we To rest without a spot for evermore. [make, P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks,
And knows not how to do it, but with tears. Bast. 0, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the prond foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them: Nought sha!! make If England to itself do rest but true. [us rue, [Exeunt.
The tragedy of KING JOHN, though not written with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and characters. The lady's grief is very affecting; and the character of the Bastard contains that mixture of greatness and levity which this author delighted to exhibit.-JOHNSON.
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
KING RICHARD II.
King RICHARD the SECOND. EDMUND of Langley, D. of York; uncles to JOHN of Gaunt, D. of Lancaster; the King. HENRY, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of Hereford, son to John of Gaunt; after- wards King Henry IV.
Duke of AUMERIE, Son to the Duke of York. MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk. Duke of Surrey.
Earl of Salisbury. Earl BERKLEY.
creatures to King Richard.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two
Earl of Northumberland. HENRY PERCY, his son. Lord Ross. FITZWATER. Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster. Lord Marshal; and another Lord. Sir PIERCE of Exton. Sir STEPHEN SCRoor. Captain of a band of Welshmen.
Lord WILLOUGHBY. Lord
Queen to King Richard. Duchess of Gloster. Duchess of York...
Lady attending on the Queen.
Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.
Scene,-dispersedly in England and Wales.
SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. | Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Enter King RICHARD; attended: JOHN of GAUNT, and other Nobles, with him.
K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
[bray? K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him,
Add an immortal title to your crown!
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but
As well appeareth by the cause you come: Namely, to appeal + each other of high treason. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow- bray?
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band*, Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son; Here to make good the boisterous fate appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow-In the devotion of a subject's love, [speech!) Guunt. I have, my liege. Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence- Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; Too good to be so, and too bad to live; Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And wish, (so please my sovereign,) ere 1 move, What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; Or worthily as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him? Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument,-
On some apparent danger seen in him, Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear The accuser, and the accused, freely speak: [Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ine, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK.
Boling. May many years of happy days befal My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Nor. Each day still better other's happiness;
Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain: The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say: [me | And bid his ears a little while be deaf, First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Which else would post, until it had return'd These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Setting aside his high blood's royalty, And let him be no kinsman to my liege, I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain: Which to maintain, I would allow him odds; And meet him, were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, Or any other ground inhabitable * Where ever Englishman durst set his foot, Mean time, let this defend my loyalty,- By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. Boling. Pale trembling coward, there throw my gage,
Till I have told this slander of his blood, How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears:
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; And lay aside my high blood's royalty, [cept: Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex- If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop; By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, Which gently lay'd my knighthood on my I'll answer thee in any fair degree, [shoulder, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: And, when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, (As he is but my father's brother's son,) Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul; He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thon; Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, [liest! Through the false passage of thy throat, thou Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, Disbursed Iduly to his highness' soldiers: The other part reserved I by consent; For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Upon remainder of a dear account, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: Now swallow down that lie.--For Gloster's death,-
I slew him not; but to my own disgrace, Neglected my sworn duty in that case.- For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, The honourable father to my foe, Once did I lay in ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul: But, ere I last received the sacrament, I did confess it; and exactly begged Mow-Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it. This is my fault: As for the rest appeal'd ¶, It issues from the rancour of a villain, A recreant and most degenerate traitor: Which in myself I boldly will defend; [nobles, And interchangeably hurl down my gage That Mowbray hath received eight thousand Upon this overweening** traitor's foot, In name of lendings for your highness sol-To prove myself a loyal gentleman
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to bray's charge?
It must be great, that can inherit+ us So much as of a thought of ill in him. Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true;-
Your highness to assign our trial day. [by me; K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled Let's purge this choler without letting blood: This we prescribe though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision: Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed; Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed.- Good uncle, let this end where it begun; [son. We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom: The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ-In haste whereof, most heartily I pray Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. Besides I say, and will in battle prove,Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye,That all the treasons, for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land, [spring. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and Further I say, and further will maintain Upon his bad life, to make all this good,That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; Suggest his soon believing adversaries; And, consequently, like a traitor coward, Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, To me, for justice, and rough chastisement; And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution
my age: [gage. Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Gaunt. When, Harry? when? Obedience bids, I should not bid again. K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no boot tt. [foot: Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign,at thy My life thou shalt command,but not my shame: The one my duty owes; but my fair name, (Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,) To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. I am disgraced, impeach'd, and baffled here; I Wicked. **Arrogant.
Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
§ Prompt. tt No advantage in delay.
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