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And will not let me welcome this good news.
SCENE V.-The Same. The French Camp. Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight:
Enter Lewis and his Train. Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Ereunt.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, SCENE IV.-The Same. Another Part of the Same. But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush,
Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, Bigot, and Others. When English measur'd backward their own ground, Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. When with a volley of our needless shot,
In faint retire. O! bravely came we off, Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French :
After such bloody toil we bid good night, If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
And wound our tattering colours clearly up, Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it! In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Here.- What news? Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Mess. The count Melun is slain : the English lords, Sal. When we were happy we had other names.
By his persuasion, are again fallen off;
Wounded to death.
And your supplies, which you have wish'd so long, Mel. Fly, noble English; you are bought and sold: Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy very heart! Untread the road-way of rebellion,
I did not think to be so sad to-night, And welcome home again discarded faith.
As this hath made me.
.- Who was he, that said, Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; For if the French be lords of this loud day,
King John did fly an hour or two before He means to recompense the pains you take,
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. [Exeunt. Dear amity and everlasting love.
SCENE VI.-An open Place in the Neighbourhood
of Swinstead-Abbey. Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,
Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, severally. Retaining but a quantity of life,
Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
shoot. Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?
Bast. A friend.-What art thou ? What in the world should make me now deceive, Hub.
Of the part of England. Since I must lose the use of all deceit?
Bast. Whither dost thou go? Why should I then be false, since it is true
Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand That I must die here, and live hence by truth? Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
Bast. Hubert, I think. He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Thou hast a perfect thought: Behold another day break in the east :
I will, upon all hazards, well believe But even this night, whose black contagious breath Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well. Already smokes about the burving crest
Who art thou? Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,
Who thou wilt: and, if thou please, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think Paying the fine of rated treachery,
I come one way of the Plantagenets. Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night, If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Have done me shame.- Brave soldier, pardon me, Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; That any accent breaking from thy tongue The love of him,-and this respect besides,
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. For that my grandsire was an Englishman,
Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
abroad? In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
Hub. Why, here walk 1, in the black brow of night, From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
To find you out. Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
Brief, then; and what's the news? In peace, and part this body and my soul
Hub. 0! my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, With contemplation and devout desires.
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Sal. We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul, Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news: But I do love the favour and the form
I am no woman; I'll not swoon at it. Of this most fair occasion, by the which
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison’d by a monk : We will untread the steps of damned flight;
I left him almost speechless, and broke out And, like a bated and retired flood,
To acquaint you with this evil, that you might Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
The better arm you to the sudden time, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, Than if you had at leisure known of this. And calmly run on in obedience,
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him ? Even to our ocean, our great king John.
Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come back, [Exeunt, leading off Melun. And brought prince Henry in their company;
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
K. John. O cousin! thou art come to set mine eye.
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Are turned to one thread, one little hair : Passing these flats, are taken by the tide ;
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, These Lincoln washes have devoured them:
Which holds but till thy news be uttered, Myself well-mounted hardly have escap'd.
And then all this thou seest is but a clod,
And model of confounded royalty.
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him;
For, in a night, the best part of my power, Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and Bigot.
As I upon advantage did remove, P. Hen. It is too late : the life of all his blood Were in the washes, all unwarily, Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
Devoured by the unexpected flood. [King John dies. (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
My liege! my lord !—But now a king, now thus. Foretel the ending of mortality.
P. Hen. Even so st I run on, and even so stop. Enter PEMBROKE.
What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds belief, When this was now a king, and now is clay? That being brought into the open air,
Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, It would allay the burning quality
To do the office for thee of revenge, Of that fell poison which assaileth him.
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Doth he still rage?
[Exit Bigot. Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Pem. He is more patient
Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths, Than when you left him: even now he sung.
And instantly return with me again,
Out of the weak door of our fainting land.
The Dauphin rages at our very heels. Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much as we. With many legions of strange fantasies,
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should And brings from him such offers of our peace sing.
As we with honour and respect may take, I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
With purpose presently to leave this war. Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,
Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings
Ourselves well sinew'd to our own defence.
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel
To the disposing of the cardinal : Re-enter Bigor and Attendants : King John brought With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, in in a Chair.
you think meet, this afternoon will post K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; To consummate this business happily. It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
Bast. Let it be so.—And you, my noble prince, There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
With other princes that may best be spar'd, That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
Shall wait upon your father's funeral. I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; Upon a parchment, and against this fire
For so he will'd it. Do I shrink up.
Thither shall it then. P. Hen. How fares your majesty?
And happily may your sweet self put on K. John. Poison'd, - ill-fare;-dead, forsook, cast off, The lineal state and glory of the land: And none of you will bid the winter come,
To whom, with all submission, on my knee, To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
I do bequeath my faithful services, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course And true subjection everlastingly. Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, To rest without a spot for evermore. And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much : P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks, I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And knows not how to do it, but with tears. And so ingrateful, you deny me that.
Bast. O! let us pay the time but needful woe, P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, Since it hath been before hand with our griefs.That might relieve you!
This England never did, nor never shall, K. John.
The salt in them is hot.- Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror; Within me is a hell; and there the poison
But when it first did help to wound itself. Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
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, Bast. O! I am scalded with my violent motion, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. THE LIFE AND DEATH
KING RICHARD II. .
King RICHARD THE Second.
Henry Percy, his Son. EDMUND OF LANGLEY, Duke of York.
LORD Ross. LORD WILLOUGHBY. LORD FitzJohn of GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster. HENRY BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford.
Bishop of CARLISLE. Abbot of Westminster. DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son to the Duke of York.
LORD MARSHAL; and another Lord. Thomas MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk.
Sir PIERCE OF Exton. SiR STEPHEN SCROOP. Duke OF SURREY.
Captain of a Band of Welchmen.
Queen to King Richard.
Duchess or GLOUCESTER. GREEN,
Duchess of York.
Lady attending the Queen.
SCENE, dispersedly in England and Wales.
ACT I. SCENE 1.-London. A Room in the Palace.
Add an immortal title to your crown!
K. Rich. We thank
you : yet one but flatters us, other Nobles, with him.
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lan- Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object caster,
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
Boling. First, heaven be the record to my speech ! Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, In the devotion of a subject's love, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
And free from wrath or misbegotten hate, Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Come I appellant to this princely presence.Gaunt. I have, my liege.
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice,
My body shall make good upon this earth, Or worthily, as a good subject should,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. On some known ground of treachery in him?
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear And wish, (so please my sovereign) ere I move, Th' accuser, and th' accused, freely speak.
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may [Exeunt some Attendants.
prove. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal. In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
Boling. Full many years of happy days befal Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain :
Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say.
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou:
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers : I do defy him, and I spit at him;
The other part reserv'd I by consent; Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain :
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Which to maintain I would allow him odds,
Upon remainder of a clear account, And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Now, swallow down that lie.-For Gloster's death, Or any other ground inhabitable
I slew him not; but to mine own disgrace, Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.Mean time, let this defend my loyalty :
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
The honourable father to my foe, Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Once did I lay an ambush for Disclaiming here the kindred of the king ;
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul;
But, ere I last receiv'd the sacrament,
It issues from the rancour of a villain,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor;
Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, And interchangeably hurl down my gage
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
Your highness to assign our trial day. K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentleman, be rul'd by me. charge?
this choler without letting blood : It must be great, that can inherit us
This we prescribe, though no physician; So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Deep malice makes too deep incision. Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed; true :
Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, Good uncle, let this end where it begun; In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age.Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove,
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge
When, Harry? when ? That ever was survey'd by English eye,
Obedience bids, I should not bid again. That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no Complotted and contrived in this land,
boot. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy fuot. Farther, I say, and farther will maintain
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: Upon his bad life to make all this good,
The one my duty owes; but my fair name, That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; Despite of death that lives upon my grave, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. And, consequently, like a traitor coward,
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood : Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear; Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, Which breath'd this poison. To me for justice, and rough chastisement;
Rage must be withstood. And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
Give me his gage:-lions make leopards tame. This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
Nor. Yea, but not change his spots : take but my K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars !
shame, Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord,
Is spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten times barr'd-up chest
Take honour from me, and my life is done.
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
In that I live, and for that will I die. Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage: do you The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.
Boling. O! God defend my soul from such deep sin. Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. Shall I seem crest-fallin in my father's sight? 0! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast;
Or if misfortune miss the first career,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford.
[Exit Gaunt. With her companion grief must end her life.
Duch. Yet one word more.-Grief boundeth where
it falls, There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: The swelling difference of your settled hate :
I take my leave before I have begun, Since we cannot atone you, we shall see
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Justice design the victor's chivalry.
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms
Lo! this is all :-nay, yet depart not so;
I shall remember more. Bid him-0! what?-
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
Alack! and what shall good old York there see,
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
And what hear there for welcome, but my groans ?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there, But since correction lieth in those hands,
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Desolate, desperate, will I hence, and die: Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. (Exeunt.
SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry.
Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, 8c., attending.
Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE. Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm’d?
Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay
Flourish. Enter King Richard, who takes his seat on
his Throne; Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and Is crack’d, and all the precious liquor spilt ;
others, who take their places. A Trumpet is sounded, Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, and answered by another Trumpet within. Then enter By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Norfolk in armour, preceded by a Herald.
Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou art,
And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms: Who was the model of thy father's life.
Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thine oath, In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk;
Who hither come engaged by my oath,
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,
To prove him, in defending of myself, Hath caus'd his death; the which, if wrongfully, A traitor to my God, my king, and me: Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! An angry arm against his minister.
Trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour,
preceded by a Herald.
Thus plated in habiliments of war;
And formally, according to our law,