Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

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,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

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?

Pem.

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.

'Tis strange that death should sing.

I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings

His soul and body to their lasting rest.

[Exit BIGOT.

Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born

To set a form upon that indigest,

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,
That all my bowels crumble up to dust:
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. Poison'd,-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 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,

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, confin'd to tyrannize

On unreprievable condemned blood.

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE.

Faul. 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:
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd;

And all the shrouds, 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 uttered;
And then all this thou seest is but a clod,

And model of confounded royalty.

Faul. 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,
Devoured 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?

Faul. 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.

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd;
For so he will'd it.

Faul.

Thither shall 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.

Faul. 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: naught shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.

[Exeunt.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF

KING RICHARD II.

FOR the incidents in the life of Richard II., the "most admirable of all Shakspeare's purely Historical Plays," the Poet was chiefly indebted to Holinshed. It is a vivid and faithful picture of the reign of that unfortunate monarch, whose character is drawn with a fidelity and beauty of execution which renders it invaluable as a mere historical portrait. The other characters are also faithful embodiments, while the real incidents of Richard's eventful life are portrayed with such perfect truth, that the whole Play forms a glowing picture of the most romantic aud picturesque period of English History. The Play is the introductory one to the series of dramatic histories of the wars of York and Lancaster, while together they form a faithful narrative of the whole prolonged civil contest.

The history of Richard II., as comprised in this Play, embraces only the last two years of his life, commencing in the year 1398, and ending with the murder of Richard at Pomfret Castle toward the end of the year 1400.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING RICHARD THE SECOND.

EDMUND OF LANGLEY, Duke of York,

JOHN OF GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster, Uncles to the King.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford, son to John of Gaunt; afterwards

King Henry IV.

DUKE OF AUMERLE, son to the Duke of York.

THOMAS MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk.

DUKE OF SURREY.

EARL OF SALISBURY.

EARL BERKLEY.

[blocks in formation]

LORD ROSS.

LORD WILLOUGHBY.
LORD FITZWater.

BISHOP OF CARLISLE.

ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER.
The Lord Marshal.

Sir PIERCE OF EXTON.

Sir STEPHEN SCROOP.

Captain of a Band of Welshmen.

QUEEN TO KING RICHARD.
DUCHESS OF Gloster.

DUCHESS OF YORK.

Lady attending on the Queen.

Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.

SCENE,-Dispersedly in ENGLAND and WALES.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN OF GAUNT, and other
Nobles.

K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honor'd Lancaster,
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.

K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;

Or worthily, as a good subject should,

On some known ground of treachery in him?

Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument,

On some apparent danger seen in him,

Aim'd at your highness,-no inveterate malice.

K. Rich. Then call them to our presence: face to face, And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

Th' accuser, and th' accused, freely speak:

[Exeunt some Attendants.

High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,

In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Re-enter Attendants with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK.

Boling. Many years of happy days befall

My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

« AnteriorContinuar »