This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, And even there, methinks, an angel spake : Pand. Or useful serving-man, and instrument, Rome? Till my attempt so much be glorified, Bast. According to the fair play of the Let me have audience; I am sent to speak :- I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The youth says well.-Now, hear our English king; For thus his royalty doth speak in me. To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch; To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy Pand. Give me leave to speak. Bast. No, I will speak. Scene 3, 4. KING JOHN. Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, And so shall you, being beaten : do but start Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do SCENE III.-Near St. Edmund's-Bury. O, Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. K. John. How goes the day with us? tell me, Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your ma[so long, jesty? 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, conbridge, sands. Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and Sal. May this be possible? may this be true But even this night,-whose black contagious Already smokes about the burning crest Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,Paying the fine of rated treachery, If Lewis by your assistance win the day. Faul-Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Commend me to one Hubert, with your king: Desires your majesty to leave the field, And send him word by me which way you go. The love of him,-and this respect besides, K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to For that my grandsire was an Englishman,[supply, Awakes my conscience to confess all this. the abbey there. From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts (now: In peace, and part this body and my soul Sal. We do believe thee :--and beshrew my With contemplation and devout desires. Of this most fair occasion, by the which But I do love the favour and the form [soul, We will untread the steps of damned flight; Leaving our rankness and irregular course, And, like a bated and retired flood, [look'd, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erAnd calmly run on in obedience, 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; flight, Right in thine eye.--Away, my friends! New This news was brought to Richard but even up, And will not let me welcome this good news. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Near St. Edmund's-Bury. Another Part of the Field. Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the Enter Melun, wounded, and led by Soldiers. [Exeunt, leading off Melun. And happy newness, that intends old right. 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, Sal. own ground, In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, 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 Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? majesty? [all come back, Lew. Here-what news? Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are Mess. The count Melun is slain: the Eng-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!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. lish lords, By his persuasion, are again fallen off; [long, I did not think to be so sad to-night, [said, Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. The day shall not be up so soon as I, [Exeunt. [Exeunt. SCENE VII.-The Orchard of Swinstead Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot. SCENE VI.-An open Place in the Neighbour-(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwellingIs touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain hood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter the Bastard and Hubert, meeting. Bast. A friend.-What art thou? Thou hast a perfect thought: ear. house) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds Pem. He is more patient tremes In their continuance will not feel themselves. With many legions of strange fantasies, [hold, 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. [of night, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? And from the organ pipe of frailty sings Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. 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, How fares your majesty? K. John. Poison'd,-ill-fare; -dead, forsook, cast off; And none of you will bid the winter come, 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, P. Hen, O, that there were some virtue in Enter the Bastard. 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 mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; For, in a night, the best part of my power, [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. And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, The Dauphin rages at our very heels. [as we: And brings from him such offers of our peace 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 inFor so he will'd it. [terr'd; Bast. Thither shal! 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. [stay, Now these, her princes, are come home again, What surety of the world, what hope, what Come the three corners of the world in arms, When this was now a king, and now is clay? And we shall shock them: nought shall make Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay be-| us rue, To 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 Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice : On some apparent danger seen in him, 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. [zeal: 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 |