Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
To find you out.
[night, Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? Do I shrink up.
Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
P. Hen.
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.
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to
him?

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.
SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.
Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.
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 dwelling-
house),

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

With many legions of strange fantasies;
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
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.
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are
To set a form upon that indigest
[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

room;

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.

P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my
That might relieve you!
[tears,
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 condemned 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
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 seest, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

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

For, in a night, the best part of my power,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Devoured by the unexpected flood.

[The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead

What surety of the world, what hope. what stay,
When this was now a king, and now is clay!

Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge;
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
elbow-To the seaside, and put his cause and quarrel
To the disposing of the cardinal:

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:

With whom yourself, myself, and other lords
If thou think meet, this afternoon will post
To consummate this business happily.

SC. I.

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

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be inFor so he will'd it

Bast. Thither shall it then.

[terr'd;

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.

The Life and Death of
King Richard the Second.

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN of GAUNT and other Nobles with him.

K. Rich. OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd
Lancaster,

Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son;
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow-
[bray?
Gaunt. I have, my liege.
K. Rich. Tell me, moreover,hast thou sounded
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; [him,
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 ire,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and
NORFOLK.

Boling. Many years of happy days befall
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
Nor. Each day still better other's happiness;

Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but

flatters us,

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?

Boling. First, (heaven be the record to my
[speech!)
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 presencc.--
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 I move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword
may prove.

Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my
zeal:

'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain:
The blod 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 | Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs | The unstooping firmness of my upright soul;
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou;
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 a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable
Where every 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 I throw
my gage,

Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou
liest!

Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers:
The other part reserv'd 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 receiv'd the sacrament,
I did confess it: and exactly begg'd
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,

Disclaiming here the kindred of the king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except:
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rights 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, | A recreant and most degenerate traitor:
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!

Which in myself I boldly will defend;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman

Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom :

K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow-In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
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;-
[nobles,
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers;
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ-
ments,

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,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and
spring.

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,
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams
of blood:

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
soars!-

Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
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:

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

Your highness to assign our trial day. [by me:
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd
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;
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become 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.
[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 disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here;
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breath'd this poison.
K. Rich.
Kage must be withstood;
Give me his gage:-Lions make leopards tame.
Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: tako

but my shame,
And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is-spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten times barr'd up chest
Is-a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
Take honour from me and my life is done:
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.

K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do
you begin.