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SCENE I. - A Room in the Palace. When he intendeth to become the field :
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence. Enter King JOHN, PANDULPH with the Crown, and What, shall they seek the lion in his den, Attendants.
And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
To meet displeasure further from the doors;
And grapple with him, ere he come so nigh. [Giving John the Crown. K. John. The legate of the pope hath been with me, From this my hand, as holding of the pope,
And I have made a happy peace with him;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers
O inglorious league !
Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Insinuation, parley, and base truce,
To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul,
A cocker'd 5 silken wanton brave our fields, To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, This inundation of distemper'd humour
Mocking the air with colours idly spread, Rests by you only to be qualified.
And find no check ? Let us, my liege, to arms : Then pause not; for the present time's so sick, Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace; That present medicine must be minister'd,
Or if he do, let it at least be said, Or overthrow incurable ensues.
They saw we had a purpose of defence. Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, K. John. Havethou the ordering of this present time. Upon your stubborn usage of the pope:
Bast. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, But, since you are a gentle convertite 4,
Our party may well meet a prouder foe. (Exeunt. My tongue shall hush again this storm of war, And make fair weather in your blustering land. SCENE II. A Plain near St. Edmund's Bury. On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the pope,
Enter, in arms, Lewis, SalisbuRY, Melun, PemGo I to make the French lay down their arms. (Exit.
BROKE, Bigot, and Soldiers. K.John. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon,
And keep it safe for our remembrance : My crown I should give off? Even so I have :
Return the precedent to these lords again ; I did suppose, it should be on constraint;
That, having our fair order written down, But heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary.
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. out,
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear But Dover castle: London hath receiv'd,
A voluntary zeal, and unurg'd faith, Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers : To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince, Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone I am not glad that such a sore of time To offer service to your enemy;
Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, And wild amazement hurries up and down
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound, The little number of your doubtful friends.
By making many: 0, it grieves my soul, K. John. Would not my lords return to me again, That I must draw this metal from my side After they heard young Arthur was alive?
To be a widow-maker; 0, and there,
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury:
Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. We cannot deal but with the very hand
And is't not pity, O my grieved friends! Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust,
That we, the sons and children of this isle, Govern the motion of a kingly eye:
Were born to see so sad an hour as this; Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;
Wherein we step after a stranger march Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up Or bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes, Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep That borrow their behaviours from the great, Upon the spot of this enforced cause,) Grow great hy your example, and put on
To grace the gentry of a land remote, The dauntless spirit of resolution.
And follow unacquainted colours here? Away; and glister like the god of war,
What here? - O nation, that thou couldst remove 4 Convert
That Neptune's arms, who clippeth 6 thee about, To underprop this action ? is't not I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Have I not heard these islanders shout out, And not to spend it so unneighbourly!
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns ? Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in tnis; Have I not here the best cards for the game, And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom, To win this easy match play'd for a crown? Do make an earthquake of nobility.
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? 0, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
No, on my soul, it never shall be said. Between compulsion and a brave respect !7
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :
Till my attempt so much be glorified My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
As to my ample hope was promised Being an ordinary inundation ;
Before I drew this gallant head of war, But this effusion of such manly drops,
And culld these fiery spirits from the world, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, To outlook conquest, and to win renown Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz’u Even in the jaws of danger and of death. Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
[Trumpet sounds Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter the Bastard, attended.
Bast. According to the fair play of the world, That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
Let me have audience; I am sent to speak : Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
My holy lord of Milan, from the king Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ; Come, come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep And, as you answer, i do know the scope Into the purse of rich prosperity,
And warrant limited unto my tongue. As Lewis himself: — so, nobles, shall you all,
Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.
And will not temporize with my entreaties ;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.
Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, And even there, methinks an angel spake:
The youth says well :- Now hear our English king; Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unbair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, That so stood out against the holy church,
From out the circle of his territories. The great metropolis and see of Rome :
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch'; And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
To dive like buckets, in concealed wells; That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
To crouch in litter of your stable planks ; It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
To lic, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; And be no further harmful than in show.
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back; In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake, I am too high-born to be propertied 8,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow?, To be a secondary at control,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, To any sovereign state throughout the world. That in your chambers gave you chastisement ? Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,
No: Know the gallant monarch is in arms; Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself,
And like an eagle o'er his aiery s towers, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb You taught me how to know the face of right, Of your dear mother England, blush for shame : Acquainted me with interest to this land,
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; And come you now to tell me, John hath made Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? Their neelds 4 to lances, and their gentle hearts I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
To fierce and bloody inclination. After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; Lew. There end thy brave 5, and turn thy face in And, now it is half-conquer'd must I back,
With such a brabbler.
Leap cver the hatch, 6 Embraceth. 7 Love of country.
? The crowing of a cock. * Appropriated
Give me leave to speak. For, if the French be lords of this loud day, Bast. No, I will speak.
He 8 means to recompense the pains you take, Lew.
We will attend to neither : By cutting off your heads : Thus hath he sworn, Strike
the drums; and let the tongue of war And I with him, and many more with me, Plead for our interest, and our being here.
Upon the altar at St. Edmund's Bury; Bast. Indeed, your drums being beaten, will cry Even on that altar, where we swore to you out;
Dear arnity and everlasting love. And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start Sal. May this be possible? may this be true ? An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
Retaining but a quantity of life;
Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire ? 9
What in the world should make me now deceive, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand Since I must lose the use of all deceit? (Not trusting to this halting legate here,
Why should I then be false ; since it is true Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) That I must die here, and live hence by truth? Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
Lew. Strike up our drums to find this danger out. But even this night, — whose black contagious breath
[Exeunt. Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, —
Even this ill night your breathing shall expire ; SCENE III. A Field of Battle.
Paying the fine of rated treachery,
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day. K. John. How goes the day with us? 0, tell me, Commend me to one Hubert, with your king ; Hubert.
The love of him, — and this respect besides, Hub. Badly, I fear : How fares your majesty ? For that my grandsire was an Englishman, K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Awakes my conscience to confess all this. Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick !
In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Enter a Messenger.
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon- In peace, and part this body and my soul bridge,
With contemplation and devout desires. Desires your majesty to leave the field;
Sal. We do believe thee. And beshrew my soul And send him word by me, which way you go.
But I do love the favour and the form K. John. Tell him toward Swinstead, to the abbey | Of this most fair occasion, by the which there.
We will unthread the steps of this our flight; Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply And, like a bated and retired flood, That was expected by the Dauphin here,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, This news was brought to Richard but even now: And calmly run on in obedience, The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. Even to our ocean, to our great king John.
K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; And will not let me welcome this good news. For I do see the cruel pangs of death Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight : Right in thine eye. — Away, my friends! New flight: Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Ereunt. And happy newness', that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading off Melun. SCENE IV. – Another Part of the same.
SCENE V. - The French Camp.
Enter Lewis and his Train.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
set; Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
When the English measur'd backward their own Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off,
ground, the field.
When with a volley of our needless shot, Enter Melon wounded, and led by Soldiers.
After such bloody toil we bid good night; Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up, Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Last in the field, and almost lords of it! Pem. It is the count Melun.
Enter a Messenger. Sal.
Wounded to death.
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ?
Here: What news? Untbread the rude eye of rebellion,
Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
By his persuasion, are again fall’n off:
Lewis. 9 In allusion to the images made by witches. ? A proverb intimating treachery.
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Away, before ! conduct me to the king;
SCENE VII. - The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey.
P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,) Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care
Doth by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.
Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds hood of Swinstead-Abbey.
That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which assaileth him. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly,
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard or I shoot.
here. Bast. A friend : What art thou ?
Doth he still rage ?
[Erit Bigot. Pem.
He is more patient
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes, Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Bast. Hubert, I think. Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought : Leaves them insensihle ; and his siege is now
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, I will upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies; Who art thou ? Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think
should sing. I come one way of the Plantagenets Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ;
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, night, Have done me shame:- Brave soldier, pardon me,
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest. That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
To set a form upon that indigest Bast. Come, come; sans? compliment, what news
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, Re-enter Bigor and Attendants, who bring in King To find you out
John in a Chair. Bast.
Brief, then ; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbowBlack, fearful, comfortless, and borrible.
Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'ul by a monk :
That all my bowels crumble up to dust : I left him almost speechless, and broke out
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen To acquaint you with this evil ; that you might
Upon a parchment; and against this fire The better arm you to the sudden time,
Do I shrink up Than if you had at leisure known of this.
P. Hen. How fares your majesty ? Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? K. John. Poison'd, — ill fare; - dead, forsook, Hub. A monk, I tell you : a resolved villain,
cast off; Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
And none of you will bid the winter come, Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course Hub. Why, know you not ? the lords are all come Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north back,
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, And brought prince Henry in their company;
And comfort me with cold:-I do not ask you much, At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, I beg cold comfort; and you are so straits And they are all about his majesty.
And so ingrateful, you deny me that. Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven!
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, And tempt us not to bear above our power!
That might relieve you! I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,
K. John. The salt in them is hot.
Within me is a hell; and there the poison
3 Narrow, avaricious,
Enter the Bastard.
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And brings from him such offers of our peace And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
As we with honour and respect may take, K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: With purpose presently to leave this war. The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd;
Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. Are turned to one thread, one little hair :
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already ; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, For many carriages he hath despatch'd Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod,
To the disposing of the cardinal : And module 4 of confounded royalty.
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; If you think meet, this afternoon will post Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him: To consummate this business happily. For, in a night, the best part of my power,
Bast. Let it be so : - And you, my noble prince, As I upon advantage did remove.
With other princes that may best be spar'd, Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral. Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies. P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an For so he will'd it.
Thither shall it then.
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom, with all submission, on my knee,
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, To rest without a spot for evermore. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.
P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres,
thanks, Where be your powers ? Show 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 us rue, 4 Model
If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt