For I do see the cruel pangs of death SCENE V.-The same. The French Camp. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set; [ground, But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, Mes. Where is my prince, the dauphin? [heart! Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy very 1 did not think to be so sad to-night, As this hath made me.-Who was he, that said, 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 toThe day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [night; [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-An open Place in the neighbourhood of Swinstead-Abbey. Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I [shoot. Of the part of England. Bast. A friend.-What art thou? Bust. Whither dost thou go? Thou hast a perfect thought: I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: Who art thou! Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. Hub Unkind remembrance! thou.and eyeless night, Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out. Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. 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, Than if you had at leisure known of this. Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Hub. A monk, i tell you; a reso Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend hi L [Exeunt Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, And tempt us not to bear above our power!I'll tell thee, Hubert, half any 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. 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 Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretel the ending of n ortality. Enter PEMBROKE. Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds belief That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.— Doth he still rage? [Exit BIG T. He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he sung. P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Pem. Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are bora Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring in K.John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; [off: 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 Enter the BASTARD. ; Bast. 0, 1 am scalded with my violent motion, And sp.een 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 sarouds, 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 utter'd; And then all this thou see'st is but a clod, And module 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, Devour'd 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, 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? Shew 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, vou know not then so much as we: The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, Bast. Let it be so:-And you, my noble prince, P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; For so he will'd it. Bast. Thither shall it then. Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you And knows not how to do it, but with tears. [thanks, 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 iue, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt KING RICHARD II. THIS play which Mr. Malone supposes to have been written in 1593, was published in quarto no less than five several times during our author's life. The first edition was in 1597, without the scene of deposing Richard, which was first inserted in the edition of 1008. It has been supposed by Dr. Farmer, that there was a play on the subject anterior to that of Shakspeare, because he found in Lord Bacon, in the arraignments of Cuffe and Merick, vol. iv. p. 20, of Mallets edition, that," he afternoon before the rebellion, Merick, with a great number of others, that afterwards were all in the action, had procured to be played before them the play of deposing King Richard the Second; -when it was told him by one of the players, that the play SCENE 1-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN OF GAUNT, and other Nobles, with him. K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd 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 Mowbray. Gaunt. I have, my liege. was old, and they should have loss in playing it, because few would come to it, there was forty shillings extraordinary giver to play, and so thereupon played it was. This passage does not, however, necessarily refer to a drama older than Shakspeare's. In the year 1601. the actors would be very naturally inclined to consider a play as out of date which had been produced in 1593, and performed till the ca riosity of the town had become exhausted. The action of this play comprises little more than two years. It begins with Bolingbroke's appealing the duke of Norfolk, on the accusation of high-treason, which occurred in 1396, and closes with the death of King Richard, which took place in the end of the year 1400. Boling. Many years of happy days befal K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, "Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Lau-Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain: [caster, 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: First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs ne From giving reins and spurs to my free speech, Which else would post, until it had return'd K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded him, These terms of treason doubled down his throat. If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; Setting aside his high blood's royalty, Or worthily, as a good subject should, And let him be no kinsman to my liege, On some known ground of treachery in him? I do defy him, and I spit at him; Guunt. As near as 1 could sit him on that argu-Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain : On some apparent danger seen in him, [ment, Which to maintain, I would allow him odds, Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. And meet him were I tied to run a-foot [gage, Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, Which gently lay'd iny knighthood on my shoulder, I'll answer thee in any fair degree, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's [charge? [true; Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. To me, K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? The honourable father to my foe, K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me; K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no boot. Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. 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,) To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear; The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poison. K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Nor. O let my sovereign turn away his face, And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood, How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, As he is but my father's brother's son,) Now by my scepter'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. Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. [begin K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin. Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear; And spit it bleeding, in mis high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. [Exit GAUNT. K. Rich. We were not bound to sue, but to command: Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry, upon saint Lambert's day; death,―There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate; Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry.— Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: 3 SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Duke Enter GAUNT, and DUCHESS of GLOSTER. Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair: [stitute, Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself? Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence. Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, That they may break his foaming courser's back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife, With her companion grief must end her life. Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry : As much good stay with thee, as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more ; Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: |Though this be all, do not so quickly go ; And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans [stay SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, &c. attending Enter the Lord Marshal and AUMERLE Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd and For nothing but his majesty's approach. Flourish of trumpets. Enter KING RICHARD, who takes his seat on his throne; GAUNT, and several Noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter NORFOLK, in armour, preceded by a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms : Ask him his name; and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause. [art, Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms : Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel : Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of NorWho hither come engaged by my oath, ffolk, (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate!) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, Trumpet sounds. [He takes his seat. Enter BOLINGBRoke, in armour ; preceded by a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, [hither, Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st tho Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold, |