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Lasinuation, parley, and base truce,

Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy,

Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, A cocker'd silken wanton brave our fields,

And with a great heart heave away this storm : And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,

Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,

That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
nd find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms : Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Perenance, the cardinal cannot make your peace ; Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Or if he do, let it at least be said,

Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep They saw we had a purpose of defence.

Into the purse of rich prosperity, A. Jukn. Have thou the ordering of this present As Lewis himself: – so, nobles, shall you all, time.

That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. Bast. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [Exeunt.

Enter PANDULPH, attended.

And even there, methinks, an angel spake : SCENE II. - A Plain, near St. Edmund's-Bury. Look, where the holy legate comes apace,

To give us warrant from the hand of heaven; Enler in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, Melun,

And on our actions set the name of right,
PEMBROKE, Bigot, and Soldiers.

With holy breath.
Leer. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, Pand.

Hail, noble prince of France ! And keep it safe for our remembrance :

The next is this, - king John hath reconcil'd Return the precedent to these lords again;

Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, Theat, having our fair order written down,

That so stood out against the holy church,
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes, The great metropolis and see of Roine :
May know wherefore we took the sacrament, Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.

And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
Sul. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
And, noble dauphin, albeit we swear

It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
A voluntary zeal, and unurg'd faith,

And be no further harmful than in show. To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not I am not glad that such a sore of time

back ; Should seek a plaster by contemn’d revolt,

I am too high-born to be propertied,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound, To be a secondary at controul,
By making many: 0, it grieves my soul,

Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
That I must draw this metal from my side

To any sovereign state throughout the world. To be a widow-maker ; 0, and there,

Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Where honourable rescue, and defence,

Between this chástis'd kingdom and myself, Cries out upon the name of Salisbury :

And brought in matter that should feed this fire ; But such is the infection of the time,

And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out That, for the health and physick of our right, With that same weak wind which enkindled it. We cannot deal but with the very band

You taught ine how to know the face of right, Of stern injustice and confused wrong:

Acquainted me with interest to this land, And is't not pity, O my grieved friends!

Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart; That we, the sons and children of this isle,

And come you now to tell me, John hath made Were born to see so sad an hour as this :

His peace with Roine? What is that peace to me? Wherein we step after a stranger march

I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up

After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; Her eneinies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back, Upon the spot of this enforced cause,)

Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? To grace the gentry of a land remote,

Am I Romne's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, And follow unacquainted colours here ?

What men provided, what munition sent,
What, here? - O nation, that thou could'st remove ! To underprop this action ? is't not I,
That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, That undergo this charge? who else but I,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, And such as to my claim are liable,
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore ;

Sweat in this business, and maintain this war? Where these two Christian armies might combine Have I not lieard these islanders shout out, The blood of malice in a vein of league,

Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns ? And not to spend it so unneighbourly!

Have I not here the best cards for the game, Lea. A noble temper dost thou show in this ; To win this easy match play'd for a crown ? And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? Do make an earthquake of nobility.

No, on my soul, it never shall be said. O, what a noble combat hast thou fought,

Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. Between compulsion, and a brave respect!

Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return Let me wipe off this honourable dew,

Till my attempt so much be glorified That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :

As to my ample hope was promised My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,

Before I drew this gallant head of war, Being an ordinary inundation ;

And culld these fiery spirits from the world, But this effusion of such manly drops,

To outlook conquest, and to win renown Nis shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Even in the jaws of danger and of death. Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd

[Trumpet sounds. Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven

What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?

same.

Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. Enter the Bastard, attended.

Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not Bast. According to the fair play of the world,

doubt.

(Ereunt. Let me have audience; I am sent to speak : My holy lord of Milan, from the king

SCENE III. –The same. A Field of Battle. I coine, to learn how you have dealt for him ; And, as you answer, I do know the scope

Alaruns. Enter King John and HUBERI. And warrant limited unto my tongue.

K. John. How goes the day with us ? O, tell me, Pan. The dauphin is too wilful opposite,

Hubert. And will not temporize with my entreaties ;

Hub. Badly, I fear : How fares your majesty? He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,

long, The youth says well : Now hear our English Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!

king; For thus his royalty doth speak in me.

Enter a Messenger, He is prepar'd; and reason too, he should :

Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, FaulconThis apish and unmannerly approach,

bridge, This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel, Desires your majesty to leave the field; This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,

And send him word by me, which way you go. The king doth smile at ; and is well prepar'd X. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,

abbey there. From out the circle of his territories.

Mess. Be of good comfort ; for the great supply, That hand, which had the strength, even at your That was expected by the dauphin here, door,

Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin's sands. To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch; This news was brought to Richard but even now: To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ;

The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. To crouch in litter of your stable planks ;

K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, To lie, like pawns, lock’d up in chests and and will not let me welcome this good news. trunks;

Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight; To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Erexrl. In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake, Even at the crying of your nation's crow,

SCENE IV.

The same. Another part of the Thinking his voice an armed Englishman; Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, Bigor, and others No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms;

Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,

friends. To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. Pem. Up once again ; put spirit in the French: And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,

If they miscarry, we miscarry too. You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb

Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, Of your dear mother England, blush for shame : In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids,

Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;

the field. Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts

Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers To fierce and bloody inclination.

Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in Sal. When we were happy, we had other names peace ;

Pem. It is the count Melum. We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well; Sal.

Wounded to death We hold our time too precious to be spent

Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and With such a brabbler.

sold; Pand.

Give me leave to speak. Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, Bast. No, I will speak.

And welcome home again discarded faith. Leu.

We will attend to neither : Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war For, if the French be lords of this loud day, Plead for our interest, and our being here.

He means to recompense the pains you take, Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry By cutting off your heads : Thus liath he sworn, out;

And I with him, and many more with me, And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury; An echo with the clamour of thy drum,

Even on that altar, where we swore to you And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,

Dear amity and everlasting love. That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;

Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true? Sound but another, and another shall,

Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,

Retaining but a quantity of life; And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand Which bleeds away, even as a form of war (Not trusting to this halting legate here,

Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ? Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) What in the world should make me now deceive, Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits

Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? A bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this day Why should I then be false ; since it is true To feast upon whole thousands of the French. That I must die here, and live hence by truth?

flight;

I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

SCENE VI. An open Place in the neighbourHe is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours

hood of Swinstead-Abbey. Behold another day break in the east : But even this night, - whose black contagious

Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. breath

Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or Already smokes about the burning crest

I shoot. Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,

Bast. A friend. - What art thou ? Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire ; Hub.

of the part of England. Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Bast. Whither dost thou go? Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Hub. What's that to thee? Why may I not de If Lewis by your assistance win the day.

mand Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine ? The love of him, - and this respect besides,

Bast. Hubert, I think. For that my grandsire was an Englishman,

Hub.

Thou hast a perfect thought: Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

I will, upon all hazards, well believe In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Who art thou ? Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Bast.

Who thou wilt: an if thou please, In peace, and part this body and my soul

Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think With contemplation and devout desires.

I come one way of the Plantagenets. S. We do believe thee, And beshrew my l/ub. Unkind remembrance ! thou, and eyeless soul

night, But I do love the favour and the form

Have done me shame:- Brave soldier, pardon me, Of this most fair occasion, by the which

That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, We will untread the steps of damned flight; Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. And, like a bated and retired food,

Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news Leaving our rankness and irregular course,

abroad? 1 Stop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, And calmly run on in obedience,

To find you out. Even to our ocean, to our great king John.

Bast.

Brief, then ; and what's the news? My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, For I do see the cruel pangs of death

Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Right in thine eye. – Away, my friends! New Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news;

I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. And happy newness, that intends old right.

Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk : (Eseunt, leading of Melun. I left bim almost speechless, and broke out

To acquaint you with this evil; that you might SCENE V. - The same.

The French Camp.

The better arm you to the sudden time,
Enter Lewis and his Train.

Than if you had at leisure known of this.

Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain, to set :

Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, Yet speaks, and peradventure, may recover. When the English measur’d backward their own Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ? ground,

Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off,

come back, When with a valley of our needless shot,

And brought prince Henry in their company ; After such bloody toil, we bid good night ;

At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,

And they are all about his majesty. Last in the field, and almost lords of it!

Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, Enter a Messenger.

And tempt us not to bear above our power!

I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Mess

. Where is my prince, the dauphin ? Passing these flats, are taken by the tide, La.

Here : What news? These Lincoln washes have devoured them; Mers. The count Melun is slain ; the English Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd.

Away, before ! conduct me to the king ; by his persuasion, are again fallen off:

I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come. (Ereunt. your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.

SCENE VII.-The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey. Lex. Ah, foul shrewd news! - Beshrew thy very heart!

Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and Bigot. I did not think to be so sad to-night,

P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood As this hath made me. - Who was he, that said, Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain King John did Ay, an hour or two before

(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,) The stumbling night did part our weary powers? Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Mess

. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. Foretell the ending of mortality. leæ. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to-night;

Enter PEMBROKE. The day shall not be up so soon as I,

Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Ereunt.

belief,

Jords,

And

ear.

That, being brought into the open air,

For, in a night, the best part of my power, It would allay the burning quality

As I upon advantage did remove, Of that fell poison which assaileth him.

Were in the washes, all unwarily, P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard Devour'd by the unexpected flood. here.

(The King dies. Doth he still rage ?

[Erit Bigot. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an Pem.

He is more patient Than when you left him ; even now he sung. My liege ! my lord !-But now a king,—now thus.

P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stopIn their continuance, will not feel themselves. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, When this was now a king, and now is clay! Leaves them insensible ; and his siege is now

Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds To do the office for thee of revenge ; With many legions of strange fantasies ;

And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, As it on earth hath been thy servant still. — Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death Now, now, you stars, that move in your right should sing.

spheres, I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

Where be your powers ? Show now your mended Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ;

faiths ; And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings

And instantly return with me again, His soul and body to their lasting rest.

To push destruction, and perpetual shame, Sal. Be of good comfort, prince ; for you are born Out of the weak door of our fainting land : To set a form upon that indigest,

Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. The Dauphin rages at our very heels. Re-enter Bigor and Attendants, who bring in

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

The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,
King John, in a chair.

Who half an hour since came from the dauphin ; K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow- And brings from him such offers of our peace room ;

As we with honour and respect may take, It would not out at windows, nor at doors.

With purpose presently to leave this war. There is so hot a summer in my bosom,

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees That all my bowels crumble up to dust :

Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; Upon a parchinent; and against this fire

For many carriages he hath despatch'd Do I sbrink up.

To the seaside, and put bis cause and quarrel P. Hen.

How fares your majesty ? To the disposing of the cardinal. K. John. Poison’d, - ill fare ; — dead, forsook, With whoin yourself, myself, and other lords, cast off :

If you think meet, this afternoon will post And none of you will bid the winter come,

To cónsummate this business happily. To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

Bast. Let it be so :—And you, my noble prince, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course With other princes that may best be spar'd, Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north Shall wait upon your father's funeral. To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; And comfort me with cold :—I do not ask you much, For so he will'd it. I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait,

Bast.

Thither shall it then. And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

And happily may your sweet self put on P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my The lineal state and glory of the land ! tears,

To whom, with all submission, on my knee, That might relieve you !

I do bequeath my faithful services K. John.

The salt in them is hot. And true subjection everlastingly. Within me is a hell ; and there the poison

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize

To rest without a spot for evermore. On unreprievable condemned blood.

P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,

thanks, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.

And knows not how to do it, but with tears. K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, eye :

Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. — The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; This England never did, (nor never shall,) And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Are turned to one thread, one little hair :

But when it first did help to wound itself. My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Now these her princes are come home again, Which holds but till thy news be utter'd ;

Come the three corners of the world in arms, And then all this thou see'st is but a clod,

And we shall shock them : Nought shall make aus And module of confounded royalty.

rue, Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ; If England to itself do rest but true. Ereert. Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him :

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THE LIFE AND DEATH OF

KING RICHARD II.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Kise RICHARD THE SECOND.

LORD WILLOUGHBY.
Eamed of Langley, Duke of York; ? uncles to

Lord FitzwATER.
Jaux or Gaust, Duke of Lancaster; } the King. Bishor or Carlisle.
Hisar, surnamed BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER.

sa to John of Gaunt; afterwards King Henry IV. Lord Marshal ; and another Lord.
Derz or AUXERLE, son to the Duke of York. Sir PIERCE OF Exrox.
MOEBAY, Duke of Norfolk.

Sir STEPHEN SCROOP.
Dove or SURREY.

Captain of a band of Welchmen.
EABL OF SALISBURY.
Esat BERKELEY.

Queen to King Richard.

Duchess or GLOSTER. creatures to King Richard.

Duchess of YORK.

Lady attending on the Queen. Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND.

Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Two 'Gardeners,

Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. SCENE, - dispersedly in England and WALES.

Besue, BACOT, GREEN,

Hesus Peace, his son.
Lou Ross.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

London. A Room in the Palace. And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

The accuser, and the accused, freely speak : Entor Kisc RICHARD, attended; John of Gaunt,

[Ereunt some Attendants. and other Nobles, with him.

High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, I. Rich. Old Jolin of Gaunt, time-honour'd In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Lancaster,
Jiest thou, according to thy oath and band,

Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and

NORFOLK. Prought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son ; Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Boling. Many years of happy days befal Which then our leisure would not let us hear, My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray. Nor. Each day still betier other's happiness ; Caunt. I have, my liege.

Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, K. Rich. Tell me morcover,' hast thou sounded Add an immortal title to your crown! him.

K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatli he appeal the duke on ancient malice ;

ters us, Or worthily as a good subject should,

As well appeareth by the cause you come ; On some known ground of treachery in him? Namely, to appeal cach other of high treason. Geunt. As near as I could sift him on that argu- Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object ment,

Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? On some apparent danger seen in him,

Boling. First, (heaven be the record to my Ain'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.

speech!) K. Rick

. Then call them to our presence ; face in the devotion of a subject's love,
to face,

Tendering the precious safety of my prince,

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