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Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
Enter Pandulph, attended.
Pand. Hail, noble prince of France!
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back ;
To win this easy match play'd for a crown? · And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ? No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return
[Trumpet sounds. What lasty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter the Bastard, attended
Pand. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breatha,
Give me leave to speak.
We will attend to neither :-
the drums; and let the tongue of war
Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
SCENE III.-The same. A field of Battle. Alar. The love of him,--and this respect besides,
ums. Enter King John and Hubert. For that my grandsire was an EnglishmanK. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty?
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ; K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.
Sal. We do believe thee, -And, beshrew my soul, bridge,
But I do love the favour and the form Desires your majesty to leave the field;
of this most fair occasion, by the which And send him word by me, which way you go.
We will untread the steps of damned flight; K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey || And, like a bated and retired flood, there.
Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook d, That was expected by the dauphin here,
And calmly run on in obedience, Are wreck d three nights ago on Goodwin sands.
Even to our ocean, to our great king John. This news was brought to Richard but even now:
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
For I do see the cruel pangs of death K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight; And will not let me welcome this good news.
And happy newness, that intends old right. Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight;
[Exeunt, leading of Melun, Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Exeunt. | SCENE V.-The same. The French Camp. Enter SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the same.
Lewis and his Train. Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, end others. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to
set; Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends.
But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, Pem. Up once again ; put spirit in the French;
When the English measur'd backward their ows If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
ground, Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
When with a volley of our needless shot, Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the
After such bloody toil, we bid good night; field.
And wound our latter'd colours clearly up,
Enter a Messenger.
Here :- What news? Sul.
Wounded to death.
Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold ;
By his persuasion, are again fallen off: Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, And welcome home again discarded faith.
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news !-Beshrew thy rere For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
beart! He means to recompense the pains you take,
I did not think to be so sad tonight,
King John did fly, an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ? Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to
night; Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.
SCENE VI.-An open Place in the neighbourheed of What in the world should make me now deceive, Swinstead-Abbey. Enter the Bastard and Hubert, Since I must lose the use of all deceit?
meeting Why should I then be false ; since it is true
Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or 1 That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
shoot. I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
Bast. A friend :-What art thou ? He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
of the part of England Behold another day break in the east :
Bast. Whither dost thou go? But even this night,-whose black contagious breath Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand Already smokes about the burning ciest
of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? of the old, fæble, and day-wearied sun,
Bast. Hubert, I think. Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Thou last a perfect thought : Paying the fine of rated treachery,
I will, upon all hazards, well believe Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Who art thou ? Commend me to one Hubert, with your king :
Who thou wilt: an if thou please,
Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think To set a form upon that indigest
Which he bath left so shapeless and so rude.
Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in King night,
John in a Chair. Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon me,
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room ; That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
It would not out at windows, nor at doors. Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news
That all my bowels crumble up to dust : abroad?
I am a seribbled form, drawn with a pen Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, Upon a parchment; and against this fire To find you out.
Do I shrink up. Bart. Brief, then ; and what's the news ?
P. Hen. How fares your majesty ? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
K. John. Poison'd, -ill fare,-dead, forsook, cast off ; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
And none of you will bid the winter come,
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north I left him almost speechless, and broke out
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, To acquaint you with this evil; that you might
And comfort me with cold :-I do not ask you much, The better arm you to the sudden time,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait, Than if you had at leisure known of this.
And so ingrateful, you deny me that. Dast. How did he take it? who did taste to him?
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, Hub. A monk. I tell you; a resolved villain,
That might relieve you ! Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
The salt in them is hot. Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
Within me is a hell; and there the poison Bart. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all come
On unreprievable condemned blood. baek,
Enter the Bastard.
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And they are all about his majesty.
And spleen of speed to see your majesty. Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: And terupt us not to hear above our power!
The tackle of my heart is crackd and burn'd; I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair: These Lincoln washes have devoured them;
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd.
Which holds but till thy news be uttered ; Away, before ! conduct me to the king;
And then all this thou seest, is but a clod, I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt.
And module of confounded royalty.
Bast. The dauphin is preparing hitherward; SCENE VII.-The Orchard of Swinstead. Abbey. En Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him:
ter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Digot. For, in a night the best part of my power, P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood As I upon advantage did remove, Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
Were in the washes, all unwarily, (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies. Dath, by the idle comments that it makes,
Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. Furetel the ending of mortality.
-My liege! my lord !--But now a king,—now thus. Enter Pembroke.
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds belief, || What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, That, being brought into the open air,
When this was now a king, and now is clay! It would allay the burning quality
Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, Of that fell poison which assaileth him.
To do the office for thee of revenge ;
[Exit Bigot. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.
Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Than when you left him ; even now he sung.
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes,
faiths; Io their continuance, will not feel themselves. And instantly return with me again, Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
To push destruction, and perpetual shame, leaves them insensible; and his siege is now
Out of the weak door of our fainting land: Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought ; With many legions of strange fantasies;
The dauphin rages at our very heels. Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we: Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,
Who half an hour since came from the dauphin; I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
And brings from him such offers of our peace, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ;
As we with honour and respect may take, And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
With purpose presently to leave this war. His soul and body to their lasting rest.
Bnst. He will the rather do it, when he sees Sal. Be of good comfort, prince ; for you are boru
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence
Deth he still rage?
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner dore already;
Bast. Let it be so :-And you, my noble prince,
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd;
Thither shall it then.
I do bequeath my faithful services
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
thanks, And knows no how to do it, but with tears.
Bast. O, let us pay t'e time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.This England never did, (nor never shall.) Lie at the proud 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 shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. [Eseum
KING RICHARD II.
King Richard the second.
to John of Gaunt, afterwards king Henry IV.
creatures to king Richard.
SCENE-dispersedly in England and Wales.
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.
Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? King Richard, attended ; John of Gaunt, and other
Bol. First, (heaven be the record to my speech!) Nobles, with him.
In the devotion of a subject's love,
Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant to this princely presence. Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, Broaght hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ;
And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, Here to make good the boisteroas late appeal,
My body shall make good upon this earth, Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
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 I move, ment,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may On some apparent danger seen in him,
prove. Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to
Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, face,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : The accuser, and the accused, freely speak:
The blood is hot, that inust be cool'd for this, [Exeunt some Attendants. -High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say: In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me Re-enter Attenuants with Bolingbroke and Norfolk.
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Bol. May many years of happy days befal
Which else would post, until it had return'd
Nor. Each day still better other's happiness ; Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
I do defy him, and I spit at him;
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds ; As well appeareth by the cause you come ;
And meet him, were I tied to run &-foot