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Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm :
Conmend these waters to those baby eyes,
That never saw the giant world eprag'd ;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossipping.
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
Into the purse of rich prosperity,
As Lewis himself :-so, nobles, shall you all,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.

Enter Pandulph, attended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake :
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven;
sad on our actions set the name of right,
With holy breath.

Pand. Hail, noble prince of France!
The next is this,-king John hath reconcil'd
Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and see of Rome :
Therefore, thy threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion fosterd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show.

Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back ;
I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,
Between this chastis d kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yes, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
1, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine ;
And, now it is half conquered, must I back,
Becanse that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop this action? is't not I,
That undergo this charge? Who else but 1,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out,
Vive le roi ! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,

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
Till my attempt so much be glorified
As to my ample bope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And cul'd these fiery spirits from the world,
To outlook conquest, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.-

[Trumpet sounds. What lasty trumpet thus doth summon us?

Enter the Bastard, attended
Bast. According to the fair play of the world,
Let me have audience; I am sent to speak :-
My holy, lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
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 breatha,
The youth says well :-Now hear our English king;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepard; and reason too, he should :
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at; and is well prepard
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door,
To cudgel you and make you take the hatch;
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks;
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks;
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and sbake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ;-
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No: Know, the gallant inonarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
of your dear mother England, blush for shame:
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fieree and bloody inclination.
Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in

We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler.

Give me leave to speak.
Bast. No, I will speak.

We will attend to neither :-
Strike up

the drums; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest, and our being here.
Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry

And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at land
(Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Whom he hath usd mather for sport than necd)
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 double


SCENE III.-The saine. 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 Englishman, K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hu- Awakes my conscience to confess all this. bert.

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
Enter a Messenger.

With contemplation and devout desires.
Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Fautcon-

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 hiin, 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, and others. Lexo. 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 ; If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

When the English measur'd backward their own 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 tatter'd colours clearly up, Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers. Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.

Enter a Messenger. Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.

Mess. Where is my prince, the dauphin? Pem. It is the count Melun.


Here :- What news! Sal.

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: Uothread 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 !-Besbrew thy vert For, if the French be lords of this loud day,

heart! He means to recompense the pains you take,

I did not think to be so sad to-night, By cutting off your heads : Thus bath he sworn, As this hath made me.-Who was he, that said, And I with him, and many more with me, Upon the altar at St. Edmund's-Bury;

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. Dear amity and everlasting love.

Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to Sal. May this be possible? may this be true ? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,

night; The day

shall not be up so soon as I, Retaining but a quantity of life;

To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.

(Ereunt. Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?

SCENE VI.-An open Place in the ncighbourhood of What in the world should make me now deceive, Swinstead-Abbey. Enter the Bastard and Huber, Since I must lose the use of all deceit?

mecting. Why should I then be false; since it is true

Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I 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 crest

of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Of the old, feeble, 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:

Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please,

Then may'st befriend me so much, as to think To set a form upon that indigest i come one way of the Plantagenets.

Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless 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? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, | Upon a parchment; and against this fire

I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
To find you out.

Do I sbrink up.
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, Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news;

To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk:

Through my born'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 arin you to the sudden time,

I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait, Than if you hari at leisure known of this.

And so ingrateful, you deny me that. Bast. 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

K. John.

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. back, And brought prince Henry in their company;

Enter the Bastard. At whose request the king hath pardon'd them,

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 tempt us not to bear above our power!

The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,

And all the shrouds, where with my life should sail, Pasing 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 Nood. [The King dies. Doth, 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! I would allay the burning quality

Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, of that fell poison whicb assaileth him.

To do the office for thee of revenge ;
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.- And then my soul ciall wait on thee to heaven,
Doth he'still rage?

[Exit Bigot. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.
He is more patient

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; In 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, Laves 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, lieels. Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,

Sal. It seenis, you know not then so much as we: Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should

The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, sing.

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.

Bast. 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


Sal. Nay, it is in a manner dore already;
For many carriages he hath despatch d
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quartel
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.

Bast. Let it be so :-And you, my noble prince,
With other princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd;
For so be will'd it.

Thither shall it then.
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 make,
To rest without a spot forevermore.
P. Men. I have a kind soul, that would give you

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 the second.
Edmond of Langley, duke of York; } uncles to the
John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster ; S king.
Henry, sur named Bolingbroke, duke of Hereford, son

to John of Gaunt, afterwards king Henry IV.
Duke of Aumerle, son to the duke of York."
Mowbray. duke of Norfolk.
Duke of Surrey.
Earl of Salisbury,
Earl Berkley

creatures to king Richard.
Earl of Northumberland.
Hetry Percy, his son.
Lend Ross.
Lord Willoughby.

Lord Fitzwater.
Bishop of Carlisle.
Abbot of Westminster.
Lord Marshal; and another Lord.
Sir Pierce of Exton.
Sir Stephen Scroop:
Captain of a band of Welchmen.
Queen to king Richard.
Duchess of Gloster.
Duchess of York.
Lady attending on the queen.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardenere,
Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.

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,
King Richard.

Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
OLD John of Gaunt
, time-honour'd Lancaster,

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.
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
Gaunt. I have, my liege.
K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him, || Too good to be so, and too bad to live;

Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky,
Il' he appeal the duke on ancient malice;

The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
Or worthily as a good subject should,

Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
On some known ground of treachery in him?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argu-

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
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! These terms of treason doubled down his throat.

Nor. Each day still better other's happiness ; Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
Unul the heavens, envying earth's good hap, And let him be no kinsinan to my liege,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

I do defy him, and I spit at him;
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain:

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

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