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For your

To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars
Between this chástised kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire:
And now 't is 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 me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine:
And, now it is half-conquered, must I back
Because that John hath made his peace with

Rome? Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome

borne, 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 banked their towns? Have I not here the best cards for the game, To win this easy match, played 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 culled these fiery spirits from the world,
To outlook 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.

Pan. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, And will not temporise with my entreaties : He flatly says he 'll not lay down his arms.

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breathed, The youth says well!—Now hear our English

king:
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepared; and reason too he should.
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harnessed masque and unadviséd revel,

This unhaired sauciness and boyish troops,
The King doth smile at; and is well prepared
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, locked up in chests and

trunks; To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake Even at the crying of your nation's crow, Thinking his voice an arméd 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 aiery towers, To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame:

wn ladies, and pale-visaged maids, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums : Their thimbles into arméd gauntlets change, Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination. Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face

in peace :
We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well:
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 braced 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-mouthed thunder: for at

hand (Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath used rather for sport than need) Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribbed death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger

out. Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not

doubt.

(Erennt.

long

Scene III.—The same. A Field of Battle.

Even on that altar where we swore to you

Dear amity and everlasting love. Alarans. Enter KING John and HUBERT. Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? K. John. How goes the day with us ? O, tell

Mel. Have I not hideous death within my me, Hubert.

view; Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty?

Retaining but a quantity of life,
K. John. This fever that hath troubled me so

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?

What in the world should make me now deceive, Lies heavy on me : O my heart is sick!

Since I must lose the use of all deceit?
Enter a Messenger.

Why should I then be false, since it is true Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Fal.

That I must die here, and live hence by truth? conbridge,

I say again, if Lewis do win the day, Desires your majesty to leave the field,

He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours And send him word by me which way you go.

Behold another day break in the east: K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the

But even this night-whose black contagious abbey there.

breath Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply

Already smokes about the burning crest That was expected by the Dauphin here,

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Are wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin's sands.

Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, This news was brought to Richard but even now.

Paying the fine of rated treachery, The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.

Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, K.John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,

If Lewis by your assistance win the day. And will not let me welcome this good news.

Commend me to one Hubert, with your King : Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight;

The love of him,- and this respect besides, Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.

For that my grandsire was an Englishman, (Exeunt.

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 Scene IV._The same. Another part of the Field. In peace, and part this body and my soul

With contemplation and devout desires. Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, Bigot, and others.

Sal. We do believe thee :—and beshrew my soul Sal. I did not think the King so stored with But I do love the favour and the form friends.

Of this most fair occasion, by the which Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French: We will untread the steps of damnéd flight; If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

And, like a bated and retired flood, Sal. That misbegotten devil, Falconbridge, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlooked, Pem. They say King John, sore sick, hath left And calmly run on in obedience, the field.

Even to our ocean, to our great King John.

My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers. For I do see the cruel pangs of death Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends !_new Sal. When we were happy we had other names.

flight: Pem. It is the Count Melun.

And happy newness, that intends old right! Sal. Wounded to death.

[Exeunt, leading off MELUN Mel. Fly, noble English ; you are bought and

sold: Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith,

Scene V.- The same. The French Camp. Seek out King John, and fall before his feet : For, if the French be lords of this loud day,

Enter Lewis and his Train. He means to recompense the pains you take, By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was And I with him, and many more with me,

loath to set; Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-bury: | But stayed, and made the western welkin blush,

very heart !

When the English measured backward their own Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night. ground,

To find you out. In faint retire. O, bravely came we off,

Bast. Brief, then; and what s the news! When with a volley of our needless shot,

Hub. O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night: After such bloody toil, we bid good night; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. And wound our tattered colours clearly up, Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill news: Last in the field, and almost lords of it'

I am no woman; I'll not swoon at it.

Hub. The King, I fear, is poisoned by a monk. Enter a Messenger.

I left him almost speechless, and broke out Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? To acquaint you with this evil; that you might Lew. Here.—What news?

The better arm you to the sudden time Mess. The Count Melun is slain : the English Than if you had at leisure known of this. lords,

Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? By his persuasion, are again fall'n off:

Hub. A monk, I tell you : a resolved villain, And your supply, which you have wished so long, Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin sands. Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?

Hub. Why, know you not? The lords are all I did not think to be so sad to-night

come back, As this hath made me.- Who was he that said And brought Prince Henry in their company: King John did fly an hour or two before At whose request the King hath pardoned them, The stumbling night did part our weary powers? And they are all about his majesty.

Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty · Lew. Well : keep good quarter and good care

heaven, to-night.

And tempt us not to bear above our power! The day shall not be up so soon as I,

I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt. Passing these flats, are taken by the tide;

These Lincoln washes have devoured them:
Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escaped.

Away, before : conduct me to the King: Scene VI.-An open place, in the neighbourhood I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. (Exeunt.

of Swinstead Abbey. Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. Hub. Who's there? Speak, ho! speak quickly, SCENE VII.— The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.

or I shoot. Bast. A friend. What art thou ?

Enter Prince HENRY, Salisbury, and Bigot. Hub. Of the part of England.

P. Hen. It is too late : the life of all his blood Bast. Whither dost thou go?

Is touched corruptibly; and his pure

brain Hub. What's that to thee? Why may I not (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling. demand

house) Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?

Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Bast. Hubert, I think.

Foretel the ending of mortality.
Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought.
I will, upon all hazards, well believe

Enter PEMBROKE.
Thou art my friend, that know'stmy tongue so well. Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds
Who art thou?

belief
Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, That, being brought into the open air,
Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think It would allay the burning quality
I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Of that fell poison which assaileth him. Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard night

here. Have done me shame.-Brave soldier, pardon me Doth he still rage? That any accent breaking from thy tongue

Pem. He is more patient Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Than when you left him: even now he sung. Bast. Come, come: sans compliment, what P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, news abroad?

In their continuance, will not feel themselves.

[Exit Bigor.

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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. Poisoned : 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 burned bosom: nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parchéd 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, confined to tyrannise
On unreprievable condemnéd 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:

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The tackle of my heart is cracked and burned, As we with honour and respect may take ;
And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail With purpose presently to leave this war.
Are turnéd to one thread, one little hair :

Bast. He will the rather do it when he sees
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Ourselves well sinewéd to our defence.
Which holds but till thy news be utteréd ;

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already:
And then all this thou seest is but a clod, For many carriages he hath despatched
And module of confounded royalty.

To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel
Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ; To the disposing of the cardinal :
Where Heaven he knows how we shall answer him: With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,
For, in a night, the best part of my power, If you think meet, this afternoon will post
As I upon advantage did remove,

To cónsummate this business happily. Were in the washes, all unwarily,

Bast. Let it be so.—And you, my noble prince, Devoured by the unexpected flood.

With other princes that may best be spared,

[The King dies. Shall wait upon your father's funeral. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be inan ear.

terred: My liege, my lord !—But now a king; now thus! | For so he willed it. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so Bast. Thither shall it, then. stop.

And happily may your sweet self put on What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, The lineal state and glory of the land: When this was now a king, and now is clay! To whom, with all submission, on my knee,

Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind I do bequeath my faithful services To do the office for thee of revenge;

And true subjection everlastingly. And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, As it on earth hath been thy servant still.

To rest without a spot for evermore. Now, now, you stars that move in your right | P. Hen. I have a kind soul that would give spheres,

you thanks, Where be your powers? Shew now your mended And knows not how to do it but with tears. faiths;

Bast. 0, let us pay the time but needful woe, And instantly return with me again,

Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.To push destruction and perpetual shame This England never did, nor never shall, Out of the weak door of our fainting land. Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought: But when it first did help to wound itself. The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Now these her princes are come home again, Sal. It seems you know not then so much as we: Come the three corners of the world in arms, The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,

us rue, And brings from him such offers of our peace If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt.

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