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Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust, And follow unacquainted colours here?
What, here?-O nation, that thou could'st remove!
And not to spend it so unneighbourly!
Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this;
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom,
0, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
But this effusion of such manly drops,
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
0, inglorious league! Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
List up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
Commend these waters to those baby eyes,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Into the purse of rich prosperity,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.
Enter Pandulph atlended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake : Bast. Awaythen, with good courage; yet, I know, Look, where thc holy legate comes apace, Our party may well meet a prouder foc. (Exeunt. To give us warrant from the hand of heaven; SCENE II.-A plain, near St. Edmund's-Bury. And on our actions set the name of right, Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melun, Pení. With holy breath.
Pand. broke, Bigot, and soldiers,
Hail, noble prince of France !
The next is this,-King John hath reconcil'd
That so stood out against the holy church,
It inay lie gently at the foot of peace,
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back;
I am too high-born to be propertied,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
And now 'tis 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,
thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made of stern injustice and confused wrong.- Plis peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? And is't not pity, O my grieved friends!
1, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
And, now it is hall-conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
To underprop this action ? is't not I,
That undergo this charge? who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Plead for our interest, and our being here. Sweat in this business, and maintain this war? Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will Have I not heard these islanders shout out,
cry out ; Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns? And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start Have I not here the best cards for the game, An echo with the clamour of thy drum, To win this easy match play'd for a crown ?' And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ? That shall reverberate all as loud as thine; No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Sound but another, and another shall, Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
Lev. Outside or inside, I will not return And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for at hand Till my attempt so much be glorified
(Not trusting to this halting legate here, As to my ample hope was promised
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) Before I drew this gallant head of war,
Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits And culld these fiery spirits from the world, A bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this day To outlook' conquest, and to win renown To feast upon whole thousands of the French. Even in the jaws of danger and of death.
Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
(Trumpet sounds. Bast. And thou shall find it, dauphin, do not What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?
(Eseunt. Enter the Bastard, attended.
SCENE III.-The same. A field of battle. Bast. According to the fair play of the world,
Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. Let me have audience; I am sent to speak :- K. John. How gocs the day with us? 0, tell My holy lord of Milan, from the king
me, Hubert. I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ; Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty ? And as you answer, I do know the scope
K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so And warrant limited unto my tongue.
long, Pand. The dauphin is too wilsul-opposite,
Lies heavy on me; 0, my heart is sick! And will not temporize with my entreaties;
Enter'a Messenger. He Natly says, he'll not lay down his arms. Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon Bast. By all the blood that ever sury breath'd,
bridge, The youth says well:-Now hear our English king; Desires your majesty to leave the field; For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
And send him word by me, which way you go. He is prepard; and reason too, he should :
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the This apish and unmannerly approach,
abbey there. This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel, Mess. Be of good comfort ; for the great supply,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, That was expected by the dauphin here,
The French tight coldly, and retire themselves. That hand, which had the strength, even at your K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, door,
And will not let me welcome this good news.To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch ;? Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Eze. To crouch in litter of your stable planks ; To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake, others. Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ;
Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French; Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, If they miscarry, we miscarry too. That in your chambers gave you chastisement? Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms; In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. And like an eagle o'er his aiery' towers,
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.
the field. And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
Enter Melun wounded, and led by soldiers. Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, Sa. When we were happy, we had other names. Like Amazons, come tripping alter drums; Pem. It is the count Melun. Their thimbles into armed gruntlets change, Sal.
Wounded to death. Their neeldse to lances, and their gentle hearts Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;' To fierce and bloody inclination.
Untbread the rude eye of rebellion, Lev. There end thy brave,' and turn thy face And welcome home again discarded faith. in peace,
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; We grant, thou canst outscold us : fare thee well; For, if the French be lords of this loud day, We hold our time too precious to be spent Hei' means to recompense the pains you take, With such a brabbler.
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn, Pand.
Give me leave to speak. And I with him, and many more with me, Bast. Nc, I will speak.
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury; Lew.
We will attend to neither :- Even on that altar, where we swore to you Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war Dear amity and everlasting love.
(1) Face down. (2) Leap over the hatch. (5) Nest. (6) Needles. (7) Boast. (8) Sky's. (3) Covered. (4) The crowing of a cock.|(9) A proverb intimating treachery. (10) Lewis
Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ? Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, Lew. Well; keep good quarter,' and good caro Retaining but a quantity of life;
to-night; Which bleeds a way, even as a form of wax The day shall not be up so soon as I, Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire ?" To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. (Exeunt. What in the world should make me now deceive, SCENE VI.-An open place in the neighbourSince I must lose the use of all deceit? Why should I then be false ; since it is true,
hood of Swinstead abbey. Enter the Bastard That I must die here, and live hence by truth ?
and Hubert, meeting. I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly, He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
or I shoot. Behold another day break in the east:
Bast. A friend:-What art thou ? Buteven this night,-whose black contagious breath Hub.
Of the part of England. Already smokes about the burning crest
Bast. Whither dost thou go? of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,
Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
demand Paying the fine of rated treachery,
of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Bast. Hubert, I think. If Lewis, by your assistance, win the day.
Thou hast a perfect thought : Commend ine to one Hubert, with your king; I will, upon all hazards, well believe The love of him,—and this respect besides, Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: For that my grandsire was an Englishman,- Who art thou ? Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
Who thou wilt : an if you please, In lieu? whereof, I pray you, bear me hence Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think, From forth the noise and rumour of the field; I come one way of the Plantagenets. Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless In peace, and part this body and my soul
night, With contemplation and devout desires.
Have done mé shame:-Brave soldier, pardon me, Snl. We do believe thee,-And beshrew my soul, That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, But I do love the favour and the form
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. or this most fair occasion, by the which
Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what We will untread the steps of damned flight;
news abroad ? And, like a bated and retired flood,
Hub. Why, here walk i, in the black brow of Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
night, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'a, To find you out. And calmly run on in obedience,
Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news ? Even to our ocean, to our great king John.- Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. For I do see the cruel pangs of death
Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news; Right in thine eye.--Away, my friends! New I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. Night;
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: And happy newness, that intends old right. I left him almost speechless, and broke out
[Exeunt, leading off Melun. To acquaint you with this evil; that you might SCENE V.-The same. The French camp. Thun if you had at leisure known of this.
The better arm you to the sudden time,
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set ;
Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain,
Whose howels suddenly burst out: the king But stay'd, and made the western welkine blush,
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover. When the English measur'd backward their own
Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ? ground, In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off,
Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all
come back, When with a volley of our needless shot, And brouglit prince Henry in their company; After such bloody toil, we bid good night;
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
And they are all about his majesty. Last in the field, and almost lords of it!
Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, Enter a Messenger.
And tempt us not to bear above our power! Mess. Where is my prince, the dauphin?
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Leio. Here:- What news?
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide, Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English These Lincoln washes have devoured them; lords,
Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. By his persuasion, are again fallen off:
Away, before! conduct me to the king ; And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt. Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
SCENE VII.-The orchard of Swinstead abbey. Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy very Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot.
heart! I did not think to be so sad to-night,
P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood As this hath made me.-Who was he, that said,
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
(1) In allusion to the images made by witches.
Furctel the ending of mortality.
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected food.
[The king dies. belier,
Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality
My liege! my lord !—But now a king,—now thus. or that fell poison which assaileth him.
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, here.
When this was now a king, and now is clay! Doth he still rage?
[Exit Bigot. Pem. He is more patient
Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge ; Than when you left him ; even now he sung.
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, P. llen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, As it on earth hath been thy servant still.In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Now, now, you stars, that move in your right Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
spheres, Leaves thein insensible; and his sicge is now
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
faiths; With many legions of strange fantasies ; Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, to push destruction, and perpetual shame,
And instantly return with me again, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death Out of the weak door of our fainting land: should sing.
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
The dauphin rages at our very heels. Who chants a dolesul hymn to his own death; Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we: And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, llis soul and body to their lasting rest. Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born And brings from him such offers of our peace,
Who half an hour since came from the dauphin ; To set a form upon that indigest
As we with honour and respect may take, Which lie hath left so shapeless and so rude.
With purpose presently to leave this war. Re-enter Bigot and attendants, who bring in King
Basi. He will the rather do it, when he sees John in a chair.
Ourselves well sinewed to our desence. K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow- For many carriages he hath despatch'd
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already ; room;
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
To the disposing of the cardinal: There is so hot a summer in my bosom,
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
If you think meet, this afternoon will post I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
To consummate this business happily. Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Bast. Let it be so :-And you, my noble prince, Do I shrink up. P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?
With other princes that may best be spard, K. John. Poison'd, -ill fare ;-dead, försook,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral."
P. Hen. At Worcester inust his body be interrd; cast off:
For so he will'd it. And none of you will bid the winter come,
Thither shall it then. To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
And happily may your sweet sell put on
The lineal state and glory of the land !
I do bequeath my faithful services
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, And so ingrateful, you deny me that.
To rest without a spot for evermore. P. Hen. 0, that there were some virtue in my P. Hlen. I have a kind soul, that would give you tears,
thanks, That might relieve you!
And knows not how to do it, but with tears.
Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful to, Within ine is a hell; and there the poison
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
This England never did (nor never shall)
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itsell. Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, Come the three corners of the world in arms,
Now these her princes are come home again, And spleen of speed to see your majesty. K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye:
And we shall shock them: Nought shall make us
rue, The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd;
(Exeunt. And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should'sail, If England to itself do rest but true. 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 see'st, is but a clod,
The tragedy of King John, though not written And module? of confounded royalty:
with the utmost power of Shakspeare, is varied Bast. The dauphin is preparing hitherward; with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and Where, heaven he knows how we shall answer him: characters. The lady's grief is very affecting; and For, in a night, the best part of my power, the character of the Bastard contains that mixture
of greatness and levity, which this author delighted (1) Narrow, avaricious, (2) Model, to exhibit,