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Dear amity and everlasting love.

Whom he hath used rather for sport than need), | Even on that altar, where we swore to you
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.
SCENE III. The same. 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 long,

Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faul-

Desires your majesty to leave the field;
And send him word by me, which way you go.
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to
the abbey there.
Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great sup-
That was expected by the Dauphin bere,
Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin
This news was brought to Richard but even
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me

And will not let me welcome this good news.
Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.
SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of

the same.




Sal. I did not think the king so stored with [French; Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the 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 Soldierss.
Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. When we were happy, we had other
Pem. It is the Count Melun. [names.
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,
Het 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 Saint Edmund's-Bury;

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true?
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my
Retaining but a quantity of life; [view,
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire?
What in the world should make me now de-
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? [ceive,
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 yon 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.

Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew
But I do love the favour and the form [my soul
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'er-
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 [flight;
Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New
And happy newness **, that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.

SCENE V. The same. The French Camp.
Enter LEWIS and his Train.

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was
loath to set;
But stay'd, and inade the western welkin t
When the English measured 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!
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Here:-What news?
Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English
By his persuasion, are again fallen off: [lords,
And your supply, which you have wish'd so

A proverb intimating treachery.
In allusion to the images made by witches.
Ill betide.
** Innovation,


+ Lewis.

++ Sky

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 Johu 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.


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 escaped.
Away, before! conduct me to the king;
I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come.

[Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Orchard of SwinsteadAbbey.


P. Ien. It is too late; the life of all his blood

SCENE VI. An open Place in the Neigh-Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain

bourhood 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 Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so Who art thou? [well: Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think 1 come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night, [me, Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment,

what news abroad?

Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow To find you out. [of 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
I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. [news;
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a

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

IIub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king Yet speaks, aud, peradventure, may recover. Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? [all come back, Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are 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!

* In your posts or stations.

(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellinghouse),

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

Pem. His Highness yet doth speak; and holds belief,

That being brought into the open air,
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. He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he sung. P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce ex


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

With many legions of strange fantasies;
Which, in their throng and press to that last
[should sing.
Confound themselves. Tis strange, that death
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of trailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

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

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:
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, for-
sook, 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


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Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,

And spleen of speed to see your Majesty.
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set
mine eye:

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 see'st, is but a clod,
And modulet of confounded royalty.

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

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

an ear.

[The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead [thns. My liege! my lord!-But now a king,--now P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even 80 step. [stay, What surety of the world, what hope, what When this was now a king, and now is clay! Bast. Art thou gone so? 1 do but stay beTo do the office for thee of revenge! [hind, 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, [mended faiths; Where be your powers? Show now your 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 The Dauphin rages at our very heels. [sought; Sal. It seems, you know not then so much

as we:

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

Sul. 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 consummate this business happily. [prince,

Bust. Let it be so:-And you, my noble With other princes that may best be spared, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. [terr'd; P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be inFor so he 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 To rest without a spot for evermore. [make, P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks,

And knows not how to do it, but with tears.
Bast. 0, 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 prond 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 sha!! make
If England to itself do rest but true. [us rue,

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The tragedy of KING JOHN, though not written with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and characters. The lady's grief is very affecting; and the character of the Bastard contains that mixture of greatness and levity which this author delighted to exhibit.-JOHNSON.



Persons represented.

EDMUND of Langley, D. of York; uncles to
JOHN of Gaunt, D. of Lancaster; the King.
HENRY, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of
Hereford, son to John of Gaunt; after-
wards King Henry IV.

Duke of AUMERIE, Son to the Duke of York.
MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk.
Duke of Surrey.

Earl of Salisbury. Earl BERKLEY.

creatures to King Richard.




Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two


Earl of Northumberland.
HENRY PERCY, his son.
Lord Ross.
Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster.
Lord Marshal; and another Lord.
Sir PIERCE of Exton. Sir STEPHEN SCRoor.
Captain of a band of Welshmen.


Queen to King Richard.
Duchess of Gloster.
Duchess of York...

Lady attending on the Queen.

Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.

Scene,-dispersedly in England and Wales.


SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. | Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

Enter King RICHARD; attended: JOHN of
GAUNT, and other Nobles, with him.

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

[bray? K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him,

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-

Hast thou, according to thy oath and band*,
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son;
Here to make good the boisterous fate appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow-In the devotion of a subject's love, [speech!)
Guunt. I have, my liege.
Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
And free from other misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant to this princely presence-
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 1 move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword

If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
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

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 ine,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE

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

* Bond.

may prove.


Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain:
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this,
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,

+ Charge.

As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say: [me | And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
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 afoot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable *
Where ever 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
throw my gage,

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:


Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty, [cept:
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex-
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rites 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,
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!

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
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul;
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thon;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disbursed Iduly to his highness' soldiers:
The other part reserved 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

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 received the sacrament,
I did confess it; and exactly begged
Mow-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,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor:
Which in myself I boldly will defend;
[nobles, And interchangeably hurl down my gage
That Mowbray hath received eight thousand Upon this overweening** traitor's foot,
In name of lendings for your highness sol-To prove myself a loyal gentleman

K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to
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;-



Your highness to assign our trial day. [by me;
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled
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; [son.
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become

Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom: The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ-In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 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, [spring. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and 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, Sluiced 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


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 tt. [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 disgraced, impeach'd, and baffled here; I Wicked. **Arrogant.

Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,

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Reproach to

§ Prompt.
tt No advantage in delay.

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