Sal. Trust not those cunning waters For villany is not without such rheum ;* And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse+ and innocency., Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; For I am stifled with this smell of sin.

Big. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there!

Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us
out.
[Exeunt Lords.
Bast. Here's a good world!-Knew you of this
fair work?

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn'd, Hubert.

Hub.

Then pause not; for the present time's so sick,
That present medicine must be minister'd,
Or overthrow incurable ensues.

[up,

Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what;
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub. Upon my soul,-
Bast.

If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair,
And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb
Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be

[thyself,

A beam to hang thee on; or would'st thou drown
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle such a villain up.-
I do suspect thee very grievously.

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Bast.

Go, bear him in thine arms.I am amaz'd, methinks; and lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world.How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty, The life, the right, and truth of all this realm Is fled to heaven; and England now is left To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty, Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest, And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: Now powers from home, and discontents at home, Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast) The imminent decay of wrested pomp. Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture? can Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, And follow me with speed; I'll to the king: A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

Act Fifth.

[Exeunt.

Upon your oath of service to the pope,

Go I to make the French lay down their arms.
[Exit.
K. John. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the
prophet

Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon,
My crown I should give off? Even so I have:
I did suppose it should be on constraint;
But, heaver be thank'd, it is but voluntary.
Enter the Bastard.

Bast. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out,

But Dover castle; London hath receiv'd,
Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers:
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer service to your enemy;

And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends.
K. John. Would not my lords return to me
again,

After they heard young Arthur was alive?
Bast. They found him dead, and cast into
the streets;

An empty casket, where the jewel of life
By some curst hand was robb'd and ta'en away.
K. John. That villain Hubert told me he

did live.

[knew.

Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he
But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad?
Be great in act, as you have been in thought;
Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust,
Govern the motion of a kingly eye;
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Away; and glister like the god of war,
When he intendeth to become the field:
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence.
What, shall they seek the lion in his den,
And fright him there? and make him tremble
there?

O, let it not be said!-Forage, and run
To meet displeasure further from the doors;
And grapple with him, ere he come so nigh.
K. John. The legate of the pope hath been
with me,

And I have made a happy peace with him;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers
Led by the Dauphin.

Bast.

O inglorious league! Shall we, upon the footing of our land, Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, A cocker'd¶ silken wanton brave our fields,

And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms:
Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace;
Or if he do, let it at least be said,
They saw we had a purpose of defence.
K. John. Have thou the ordering of this pre-
sent time.
[know,
Bast. Away then, with good courage; yet, I
Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.

A Tlain, near St. Edmund's-bury. Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN,

PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Soldiers. Lew. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, And keep it safe for our remembrance; Return the precedent to these lords again; That, having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.

Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear A voluntary zeal, and unurg'd faith, To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, And heal the inveterate canker of one wound, By making many: O, it grieves my soul, That I must draw this metal from my side To be a widow-maker; O, and there, Where honourable rescue and defence Cries out upon the name of Salisbury: But such is the infection of the time, That, for the health and physic of our right, We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern injustice and confused wrong.And is 't not pity, O my grieved friends! That we, the sons and children of this isle, Were born to see so sad an hour as this; Wherein we step after a stranger march Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep Upon the spot of this enforced cause,) To grace the gentry of a land remote, And follow unacquainted colours here? [move! What, here?-O nation, that thou could'st reThat Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, And grapple thee unto a pagan shore; Where these two Christian armies might combine The blood of malice in a vein of league, And not to spend it so unneighbourly!

Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this;
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom,
Do make an earthquake of nobility.
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Between compulsion and a brave respect! +
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks:
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation:

But this effusion of such manly drops,
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
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;
Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,

Embraceth. Appropriated.

+ Love of country. ? Face down.

Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as
Into the purse of rich prosperity,
[deep
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;
And 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 foster'd up at hand,

It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show. [back;
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not
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 chástis'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,
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
[me?
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with
Rome?
[borne,
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop this action? is 't not I
That undergo this charge? who else but I,
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 Roy!" 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 hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And cull'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 lusty 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 temporise with my entreaties;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,

The youth says well:-Now hear our English
For thus his royalty doth speak in me. [king;
He is prepar'd; 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 prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories. [door,
That hand, which had the strength, even at your
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 shake,
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 monarch 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 fierce and bloody inclination. [in peace;
Lew. There end thy brave, || and turn thy face
We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee
We hold our time too precious to be spent [well;
With such a brabbler.

Pand.

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

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 out;

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, [hand
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at
(Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need)
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-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 Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick! [long, Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon-
bridge,

Desires your majesty to leave the field;
And send him word by me, which way you go.

* Leap over the hatch.
The crowing of a cock.
Boast.

? Needles.

+ Nest.

¶ Sky.

K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. [ply Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supThat was expected by the Dauphin here. Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now; 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.-Another part of the Field. Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Others.

Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends.

Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French; 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 Soldiers. Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy, we had other

names.

Pem. It is the Count Melun.

Sal.

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,
He++ 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 St. Edmund's-bury;
Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view. Retaining but a quantity of life;

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire?++
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
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 you, 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.
[soul
Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew my
**A proverb intimating treachery.
++ Lewis.

‡‡ In allusion to the images made by witches.

But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of this our 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
Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New
flight;

And happy newness, that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.
SCENE V.-The French Camp.
Enter LEWIS and his Train.

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set;

But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measur'd 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!

By his persuasion, are again fallen off:
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long,
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 John 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. [Exeunt.
SCENE VI.-An open Place in the neighbour-
hood of Swinstead Abbey.

Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot.

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 [well: Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so Who art thou? Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. [night, Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon me,

That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans t compliment, what news abroad?

Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of To find you out. [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 news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.

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. [him?
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to .
Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all
come back,

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!-
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 escap'd.
Away, before! conduct me to the king;

I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. [Exeunt.
Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.
SCENE VII.-The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.

P. Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellinghouse)

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretel the ending of mortality.

Enter PEMBROKE.

Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds That, being brought into the open air, [belief, It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poison which assaileth him.
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard
here.-
Doth he still rage?-

[Exit BIGOT.
Pem.
He is more patient
Than when you left him; even now he sung.
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes,
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; [hold,
Which, in their throng and press to that last
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death
should sing.-

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

[born

Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are To set a form upon that indigest 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 elbowroom;

It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosorn,
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, forsook, 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
north

To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And comfort me with cold:-I do not ask you much:

I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,*
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

[tears

P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my That might relieve you!

K. John.

The salt in them is hot.Within me is a hell; and there the poison Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize On unreprievable condemnéd blood.

Enter the Bastard.

Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, | And spleen of speed to see your majesty! [eye: K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,

Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
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 module + of confounded royalty.

Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where heaven he knows how we shall answer

INTRODUCTION TO

BETWEEN the death of John and the commencement of this play, four kings had successively worn the crown of England, and a period of nearly two centuries had elapsed; but this and the seven plays which follow are one continuous history.

Richard ascended the throne in 1377, when but in his eleventh year; but notwithstanding his youth, he was respected as the son of Edward the famous Black Prince, the darling of the people, and as the grandson of the powerful and popular monarch, Edward the Third. Shakespeare, in this drama, passes over one-and-twenty turbulent years of Richard's reign, and confines himself to the incidents of the two last; commencing with the accusation, by Bolingbroke, of the Duke of Norfolk of treason. Richard committed a great error in banishing these noblemen: during his whole reign he had been oppressed + Model.

* Narrow, avaricious.

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,
[faiths;
Where be your powers? Show now your mended
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 sought;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels. [we;

Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as
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.

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.

Sal. 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 cónsummate 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. [terr'd;
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be in-
For so he will'd it.
Bast.
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 for evermore.

P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks,

And knows not how to do it but with tears.

Bast. O, 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 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.

[Exeunt.

KING RICHARD II. by the power of his uncles, and others of his nobility. His policy should have been to let them quarrel and fight among themselves, and thus have rendered each a counterpoise to the power of the rest. To banish Hereford was both unjust and impolitic; but to seize his estates on the death of his father, John of Gaunt, was grossly dishonest. This arbitrary act tore the crown from Richard's temples, and paved the gloomy road to his murder-tainted cell at Pomfret. It brought the banished duke to England, ostensibly to obtain his paternal estates, but in reality to seize the crown. Encouraged by his own popularity in England, by Richard's absence, and the general discontent of both nobles and people, the crafty Bolingbroke returned and landed at Ravenspurg with but sixty attendants; but he had chosen his time wisely, and was soon at the head of an army of sixty thousand

men.

Weak, dissipated, and frivolous as Richard