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 (Not trusting to this halting legate here, [hand 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 your drums, to find this dan- ger out.
Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.-Near St. Edmund's-Bury. A Field of Battle.
Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. K. John. How goes the day with us? Hubert.
tell me. Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your jesty? [so long, K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me Lies heavy on me ;-O, my heart is sick! Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman,
Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, [sold: 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 Retaining but a quantity of life, [view Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth 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: But even this night,-whose black contagious breath
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, Faul-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 [now: 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. [supply, Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands.
This news was brought to Richard but even The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me
SCENE IV.-Near St. Edmund's-Bury. 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 If they miscarry, we miscarry too. [French: 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. We do believe thee :-and beshrew my But I do love the favour and the form [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, [look'd, Even to our ocean, to our great king John.- My arm shall give thee help to bear thee For I do see the cruel pangs of death [hence; Right in thine eye.--Away, my friends! New flight,
And happy newness, that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off Melun. SCENE V.-Near St. Edmund's-Bury. The French Camp.
Enter Lewis and his train. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set,
Sal. When we were happy we had other But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, Pem. It is the count Melun. [names. When the English measur'd backward their Wounded to death.
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 tottering colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Enter a Messenger.
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. Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty? [all come back, Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are Mess. The count Melun is slain: the Eng-And brought prince Henry in their company;
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? Lew. Here: what news?
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, [said, As this hath made me.-Who was he, that 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.
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
SCENE VI.-An open Place in the Neighbour-Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling
Thou hast a perfect thought: I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that knowest my tongue so Who art thou? well.
Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou mayest befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets.
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.
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 [news abroad? Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, To find you out. 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.
[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 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,
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
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, 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 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 That might relieve you! [my 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.
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent moAnd spleen of speed to see your majesty. [tion, K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set
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 model 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, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the washes, all unwarily, Devoured by the unexpected flood.
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 sought;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels. [as we: Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dau- 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.
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 consummate this business happily. [prince, Bast. Let it be so and you, my noble With other princes that may best be spar'd, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be in- For 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 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
[The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.[thus. My liege my lord!-But now a king,-now P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. [stay, What surety of the world, what hope, what When this was now a king, and now is clay? Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay beTo do the office for thee of revenge [hind If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt.
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- Gaunt. I have, my liege. [bray? 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,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear Th' accuser, and th' 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! Norf. 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 Mowbray? [speech!)
Boling. First, (heaven be the record to my 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 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 I move, What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword 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, As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say: [me 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 sland'rous 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, Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. Meantime, let this defend my loyalty,- By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred of the king; And lay aside my high blood's royalty, [cept: Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex- If guilty dread have 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 [shoulder, Which gently laid my knighthood on my I'll answer thee in any fair degree, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: And when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay Mowbray'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-
Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove,- Or here, or elsewhere, to the farthest 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.
Farther, I say, and farther 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
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 thou; Free speech and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, [liest ! Through the false passage of thy throat, thou 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 mine 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 an 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 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, A recreant and most degenerate traitor : 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. In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 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 month 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 [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. [thy foot.
Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at 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)
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