Lightborn. He sleeps.

King [starting up]. Oh, let me not die yet; stay, oh stay awhile!

Lightborn. How now, my lord!

King.

Something still buzzeth in mine ears 60

And tells me, if I sleep, I never wake;

This fear it is which makes me tremble thus:
And therefore tell me, wherefore art thou come?
Lightborn. To rid thee of thy life. Matrevis, come.
[Enter Matrevis and Gurney.

King. I am too weak and feeble to resist ;

Assist me, sweet God, and receive my soul !

65

[They murder him.

V. THE DYING PROPHET

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

John of Gaunt, King Richard the Second's uncle, now at the point of death, speaks his fears for England, which is suffering from the bad government of the King.

Gaunt is brought in in a chair; his brother, Edmund, Duke of York, and his servants are standing by him. Gaunt has sent for the King.

Gaunt. Will the King come, that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?

York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gaunt. Oh, but they say the tongues of dying men 5 Enforce attention like deep harmony:

Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain,
For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear.

ΤΟ

York. No; it is stopped with other flattering sounds. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity (So be it new, there's no respect how vile), That is not quickly buzzed into his ears? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,

15

Your lives and my dishonour they pursue.

Yet, gentle monks, for treasure, gold, or fee,
Do not betray us and our company.

25

Monks. Your grace may sit secure, if none but we Do wot of your abode.

Spencer. Not one alive, but shrewdly I suspect A gloomy fellow in a mead below;

'A gave a long look after us, my lord,

And all the land, I know, is up in arms,

30

Baldock. We were embarked for Ireland, wretched we,

Arms that pursue our lives with deadly hate.

With awkward winds and sore tempests driven
To fall on shore, and here to pine in fear

Of Mortimer and his confederates.

King. Mortimer! who talks of Mortimer ? Who wounds me with the name of Mortimer,

35

That bloody man? [To the Abbot] Good father, on thy lap

Lay I this head, laden with mickle care.
Oh, might I never ope these eyes again,
Never again lift up this drooping head,

40

Oh, nevermore lift up this dying heart! [Falls asleep. Spencer. Look up, my lord. Baldock, this drowsiness Betides no good-[he gives a sudden start] here even we are betrayed!

45

Enter, with Welsh hooks, Rice ap Howell, a Mower, the Earl of Leicester, and some Soldiers.

The Mower. Upon my life, these be the men ye seek. Rice. Fellow, enough. My lord, I pray be short; A fair commission warrants what we do.

Leicester. Alas, see where he sits, and hopes unseen To escape their hands that seek to reave his life. Spencer and Baldock, by no other names,

I do arrest you of high treason here;

Stand not on titles, but obey the arrest, 'Tis in the name of Isabel the Queen.

My lord, why droop you thus ?

King. O day, the last of all my bliss on earth, Centre of my misfortune! O my stars,

50

55

Why do you lour unkindly on a king?

Comes Leicester then in Isabella's name

To take my life, my company, from me?

60

Here, man, rip up this panting breast of mine,
And take my heart in rescue of my friends.
Rice. Away with them.
Spencer.
It may become thee yet
To let us take our farewell of his grace.
Abbot. My heart with pity earns to see this sight; 65
A king to bear these words and proud commands !
King. Spencer, sweet Spencer, thus then must we part?
Spencer. We must, my lord; so will the angry heavens.
King. Nay, so will hell and cruel Mortimer;
The gentle heavens have not to do in this.

70

Baldock. My lord, it is in vain to grieve or storm; Here humbly of your grace we take our leaves. Our lots are cast, I fear me so is thine.

King. In heaven we may, in earth never shall we meet ! And, Leicester, say, what shall become of us?

75

Leicester. Your majesty must go to Killingworth. King. 'Must!'-it is somewhat hard when kings must go.

Leicester. Here is a litter ready for your grace,
That waits your pleasure, and the day grows old.
Rice. As good be gone, as stay and be benighted. 80
King. A litter hast thou? lay me in a hearse,
And to the gates of hell convey me hence.
For friends hath Edward none, but these-and these-
[he breaks down]

And these must die under a tyrant's sword.
Rice. My lord, be going, care not for these,
For we shall see them shorter by the heads.

85

King. Well, that shall be, shall be; part we must, Sweet Spencer, gentle Baldock, part we must. Hence, feigned weeds [he throws off his disguise]—un

feigned are my woes.

Father, farewell!-Leicester, thou stay'st for me,
And go I must '-life farewell, with my friends!

90

SCENE II. THE DEPOSITION. The King has been brought to Killingworth (or Kenilworth) Castle, the seat of the Earl of Leicester. The Earl of Leicester, the Bishop of Winchester, and Sir William Trussel there demand his abdication.

Leicester. Be patient, good my lord, cease to lament, Imagine Killingworth Castle were your court,

Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Gaunt. Methinks I am a prophet new inspired,
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last,
For violent fires soon burn out themselves;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,

Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise ;

This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;

20

25

30

This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,

Feared by their breed and famous by their birth, 35
Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
For Christian service and true chivalry,

As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's Son;

45

This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, 40
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out (I die pronouncing it),
Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!

50

51

VI. KING HENRY THE FIFTH

BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

SCENE I. THE WEARING OF A CROWN.

King Henry the Fourth is struck down with illness just at the moment when a rebellion against him is crushed and he is free to lead an army to the Holy Land, as he had vowed in order to recover the Sepulchre of Christ from the Turks.

Enter King Henry the Fourth, the Princes Thomas of Clarence and Humphrey of Gloucester, the Earl of Warwick, and Courtiers.

King Henry. Now, lords, if God doth give successful end

To this debate that bleedeth at our doors,
We will our youth lead on to higher fields,
And draw no swords but what are sanctified.
Our navy is addressed, our power collected,
And everything lies level to our wish:

[He sinks into a chair.

Only, we want a little personal strength;
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot,
Come underneath the yoke of government.

5

Warwick. Both which, we doubt not but your majesty Shall soon enjoy.

King.

Humphrey, my son of Gloucester, II

Where is the Prince your brother?

Prince Humphrey. I think he's gone to hunt, my lord,

at Windsor.

King. And how accompanied?

Prince Humphrey.

I do not know, my lord.

King. Is not his brother, Thomas of Clarence, with him? [Clarence comes forward. 15 Prince Humphrey. No, my good lord; he is in presence

here.

Clarence. What would my lord and father?

King. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas of Clarence. How chance thou art not with the Prince thy brother?