Sivut kuvina
PDF
ePub

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 born
To set a form upon that indigest,
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.
Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in King JOHN

in a Chair4. 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, 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

who bring in King John in a chair.] The old simple stage-direction merely is, "John brought in.”

5 To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;] Malone quoted the following lines, under the mistaken supposition that they were by Marlowe, and that Shakespeare had adopted one of them with the change of a single word :

“O! I am dull, and the cold hand of sleep
Hath thrust his icy fingers in my breast,

And made a frost within me." This passage is found in a play called “Lust's Dominion,” printed in 1657, and assigned to Marlowe; but the historical portion of the incidents did not occur until five years after the death of Marlowe. See Dodsley's Old Plays, last edit. vol. ii. p. 311. In “The History of Dramatic Poetry and the Stage," vol. iii. p. 96, reasons are given for attributing “ Lust's Dominion” to Dekker, Haughton, and Day; and in Dekker's “Gull's Hornbook,” 4to. 1609, we meet with this expression : "the morning waxing cold, thrust his icy fingers into thy bosom.Shakespeare's “ King John” was indisputably written before 1598, and “Lust's Dominion,” was probably not produced until 1600; so that although the authors of that play may have copied Shakespeare, there can be no pretence for saying that he imitated them.

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.

Enter the Bastard.

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 sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair: 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. [The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an

ear. My liege! my lord !—But now a king, now thus.

P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,

And MODEL of confounded royalty.) See Vol. ii. p. 285, note 8. Here again“ model” is spelt module in the old copies, but, as has been shown, module and model were in fact the same word.

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,
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended

faiths,
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.

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.

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.

Bast. Let it be so.—And you, my noble prince,
With other princes that may best be spar’d,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd';
For so he will'd it.
Bast.

[ocr errors]

Thither shall it then.

7 At Worcester must his body be interr’d;] “A stone coffin,” Steevens informs us, “ containing the body of King John, was discovered in the cathedral church of Worcester, July 17, 1797.”

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 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.

« EdellinenJatka »