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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
Upon the spot of this enforced cause,) [weep
To grace the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here?
What, here?-O nation, that thou could'st re-
move!

That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thy-
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore; [self,
Where these two Christian armies might com-
The blood of malice in a vein of league, [bine
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!t
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 I had 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,
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.

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Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not I am too high-born to be propertied,* [back 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 enterprize 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 outlookt 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 temporize with my entreaties; He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

The youth says well:-Now hear our English
Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,
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.

That hand, which had the strength, even at your door,

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, fock'd up in chests and
trunks;

To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake,

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-

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 airy towers,t
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.-
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neros, 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 neeldst to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.

Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face
in peace;
[well;
We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee
We hold our time too precious to be spent
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,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at

hand

(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 dan-
ger out.

Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do
not doubt.
[Exeunt.

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 ma-
jesty?

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, conbridge,

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same.

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and others.

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

If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French;

Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, nath
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.

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, [sold;*
Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and
Seck out king John, and fall before his feet;
And welcome home again discarded faith.
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;
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
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Retaining but a quantity of life; [view,
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,
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
Why should I then be false; since it is true
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:
But even this night,-whose black contagious
breath

Already smokes about the burning crest
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,-
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
Paying the fine of rated treachery,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him,-and this respect besides,
Faul-Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,-
In lieus whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

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
supply,

That 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;

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[soul

Sul. We do believe thee,-And beshrew my
But I do love the favour and the form
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'er-
And calmly run on in obedience,
Even to our ocean, to our great king John.-
[look'd,
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;

* A proverb intimating treachery.
↑ In allusion to the images made by witches.
+ Lewis
Place.
#311 betide.

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.

1 Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was
loath to set;
[blush,
But stay'd, and made the western welkin;
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!

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Where is my prince the Dauphin?
Lew. Here:-What news?

Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords,

By his persuasion, are again fallen off: [long,
And your supply, which you have wish'd so
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 Ay, an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary
powers?

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 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. Bust. 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.

Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,

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.

Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and BIGOT.

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 Neighbourhood 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?

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand

Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
Bast. Hubert, I think.

[well:

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?

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.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thon, 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

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Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring in | When this was now a king, and now is clay!

King JOHN in a Chair.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath el-
bow-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:
1 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.

P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears,

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 condemned blood.

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Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay beAnd then my soul shall wait on thee to To do the office for thee of revenge; [hind, heaven,

As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres,

Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths;

And instantly return with me again,
Out of the weak-door of our fainting land:
To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be
sought;

The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It seems, you know not then so much

as we:

Who half an hour since came from the DauThe cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, phin ;

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.

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; For many carriages he hath despatch'd To the seaside, 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 With other princes that may best be spar'd, prince, Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

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

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 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. 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.

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SCENE 1.-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 Mowbray?

Gaunt. I have, my liege.

K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him,

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
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,
[hear
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will
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.

Bond

Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK.

Boling. May 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 trea

son.

Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow. bray?

Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my In the devotion of a subject's love, [speech!) 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;

* Charge.

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