Front matter (continued 20)

Aus. O that a man should speake those words to me

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs Aus. Thou dar'st not say so villaine for thy life

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs

Iohn. We like not this, thou dost forget thy selfe. Enter Pandulph.

Fra. Heere comes the holy Legat of the Pope

Pan. Haile you annointed deputies of heauen; To thee King Iohn my holy errand is: I Pandulph, of faire Millane Cardinall, And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere, Doe in his name religiously demand Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother, So wilfully dost spurne; and force perforce Keepe Stephen Langton chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury from that holy Sea: This in our foresaid holy Fathers name Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee

Iohn. What earthie name to Interrogatories Can tast the free breath of a sacred King? Thou canst not (Cardinall) deuise a name So slight, vnworthy, and ridiculous To charge me to an answere, as the Pope: Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England, Adde thus much more, that no Italian Priest Shall tythe or toll in our dominions: But as we, vnder heauen, are supreame head, So vnder him that great supremacy Where we doe reigne, we will alone vphold Without th' assistance of a mortall hand: So tell the Pope, all reuerence set apart To him and his vsurp'd authoritie

Fra. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this

Iohn. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom Are led so grossely by this medling Priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out, And by the merit of vilde gold, drosse, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Who in that sale sels pardon from himselfe: Though you, and al the rest so grossely led, This iugling witchcraft with reuennue cherish, Yet I alone, alone doe me oppose Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes

Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I haue, Thou shalt stand curst, and excommunicate, And blessed shall he be that doth reuolt From his Allegeance to an heretique, And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized and worship'd as a Saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hatefull life

Con. O lawfull let it be That I haue roome with Rome to curse a while, Good Father Cardinall, cry thou Amen To my keene curses; for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right

Pan. There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curse

Cons. And for mine too, when Law can do no right. Let it be lawfull, that Law barre no wrong: Law cannot giue my childe his kingdome heere; For he that holds his Kingdome, holds the Law: Therefore since Law it selfe is perfect wrong, How can the Law forbid my tongue to curse? Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curse, Let goe the hand of that Arch-heretique, And raise the power of France vpon his head, Vnlesse he doe submit himselfe to Rome

Elea. Look'st thou pale France? do not let go thy hand

Con. Looke to that Deuill, lest that France repent, And by disioyning hands hell lose a soule

Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinall

Bast. And hang a Calues-skin on his recreant limbs

Aust. Well ruffian, I must pocket vp these wrongs, Because, Bast. Your breeches best may carry them

Iohn. Philip, what saist thou to the Cardinall? Con. What should he say, but as the Cardinall? Dolph. Bethinke you father, for the difference Is purchase of a heauy curse from Rome, Or the light losse of England, for a friend: Forgoe the easier

Bla. That's the curse of Rome

Con. O Lewis, stand fast, the deuill tempts thee heere In likenesse of a new vntrimmed Bride

Bla. The Lady Constance speakes not from her faith, But from her need

Con. Oh, if thou grant my need, Which onely liues but by the death of faith, That need, must needs inferre this principle, That faith would liue againe by death of need: O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts vp, Keepe my need vp, and faith is trodden downe

Iohn. The king is moud, and answers not to this

Con. O be remou'd from him, and answere well

Aust. Doe so king Philip, hang no more in doubt

Bast. Hang nothing but a Calues skin most sweet lout

Fra. I am perplext, and know not what to say

Pan. What canst thou say, but wil perplex thee more? If thou stand excommunicate, and curst? Fra. Good reuerend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you would bestow your selfe? This royall hand and mine are newly knit, And the coniunction of our inward soules Married in league, coupled, and link'd together With all religous strength of sacred vowes, The latest breath that gaue the sound of words Was deepe-sworne faith, peace, amity, true loue Betweene our kingdomes and our royall selues, And euen before this truce, but new before, No longer then we well could wash our hands, To clap this royall bargaine vp of peace, Heauen knowes they were besmear'd and ouer-staind With slaughters pencill; where reuenge did paint The fearefull difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands so lately purg'd of bloud? So newly ioyn'd in loue? so strong in both, Vnyoke this seysure, and this kinde regreete? Play fast and loose with faith? so iest with heauen, Make such vnconstant children of our selues As now againe to snatch our palme from palme: Vn-sweare faith sworne, and on the marriage bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody hoast, And make a ryot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O holy Sir My reuerend father, let it not be so; Out of your grace, deuise, ordaine, impose Some gentle order, and then we shall be blest To doe your pleasure, and continue friends

Pand. All forme is formelesse, Order orderlesse, Saue what is opposite to Englands loue. Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church, Or let the Church our mother breathe her curse, A mothers curse, on her reuolting sonne: France, thou maist hold a serpent by the tongue, A cased Lion by the mortall paw, A fasting Tyger safer by the tooth, Then keepe in peace that hand which thou dost hold

Fra. I may dis-ioyne my hand, but not my faith

Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith, And like a ciuill warre setst oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow First made to heauen, first be to heauen perform'd, That is, to be the Champion of our Church, What since thou sworst, is sworne against thy selfe, And may not be performed by thy selfe, For that which thou hast sworne to doe amisse, Is not amisse when it is truely done: And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it: The better Act of purposes mistooke, Is to mistake again, though indirect, Yet indirection thereby growes direct, And falshood, falshood cures, as fire cooles fire Within the scorched veines of one new burn'd: It is religion that doth make vowes kept, But thou hast sworne against religion: By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, And mak'st an oath the suretie for thy truth, Against an oath the truth, thou art vnsure To sweare, sweares onely not to be forsworne, Else what a mockerie should it be to sweare? But thou dost sweare, onely to be forsworne, And most forsworne, to keepe what thou dost sweare, Therefore thy later vowes, against thy first, Is in thy selfe rebellion to thy selfe: And better conquest neuer canst thou make, Then arme thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions: Vpon which better part, our prayrs come in, If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know The perill of our curses light on thee So heauy, as thou shalt not shake them off But in despaire, dye vnder their blacke weight

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion

Bast. Wil't not be? Will not a Calues-skin stop that mouth of thine? Daul. Father, to Armes

Blanch. Vpon thy wedding day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums Clamors of hell, be measures to our pomp? O husband heare me: aye, alacke, how new Is husband in my mouth? euen for that name Which till this time my tongue did nere pronounce; Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes Against mine Vncle

Const. O, vpon my knee made hard with kneeling, I doe pray to thee, thou vertuous Daulphin, Alter not the doome fore-thought by heauen

Blan. Now shall I see thy loue, what motiue may Be stronger with thee, then the name of wife? Con. That which vpholdeth him, that thee vpholds, His Honor, Oh thine Honor, Lewis thine Honor

Dolph. I muse your Maiesty doth seeme so cold, When such profound respects doe pull you on? Pand. I will denounce a curse vpon his head

Fra. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall fro[m] thee

Const. O faire returne of banish'd Maiestie

Elea. O foule reuolt of French inconstancy

Eng. France, y shalt rue this houre within this houre

Bast. Old Time the clocke setter, y bald sexton Time: Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue

Bla. The Sun's orecast with bloud: faire day adieu, Which is the side that I must goe withall? I am with both, each Army hath a hand, And in their rage, I hauing hold of both, They whurle a-sunder, and dismember mee. Husband, I cannot pray that thou maist winne: Vncle, I needs must pray that thou maist lose: Father, I may not wish the fortune thine: Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thriue: Who-euer wins, on that side shall I lose: Assured losse, before the match be plaid

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies

Bla. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies

Iohn. Cosen, goe draw our puisance together, France, I am burn'd vp with inflaming wrath, A rage, whose heat hath this condition; That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood and deerest valued bloud of France

Fra. Thy rage shall burne thee vp, & thou shalt turne To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: Looke to thy selfe, thou art in ieopardie

Iohn. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Allarums, Excursions: Enter Bastard with Austria's head.

Bast. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot, Some ayery Deuill houers in the skie, And pour's downe mischiefe. Austrias head lye there, Enter Iohn, Arthur, Hubert.

While Philip breathes

Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy: Philip make vp, My Mother is assayled in our Tent, And tane I feare

Bast. My Lord I rescued her, Her Highnesse is in safety, feare you not: But on my Liege, for very little paines Will bring this labor to an happy end. Enter.

Alarums, excursions, Retreat. Enter Iohn, Eleanor, Arthur Bastard, Hubert, Lords.

Iohn. So shall it be: your Grace shall stay behinde So strongly guarded: Cosen, looke not sad, Thy Grandame loues thee, and thy Vnkle will As deere be to thee, as thy father was

Arth. O this will make my mother die with griefe

Iohn. Cosen away for England, haste before, And ere our comming see thou shake the bags Of hoording Abbots, imprisoned angells Set at libertie: the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed vpon: Vse our Commission in his vtmost force

Bast. Bell, Booke, & Candle, shall not driue me back, When gold and siluer becks me to come on. I leaue your highnesse: Grandame, I will pray (If euer I remember to be holy) For your faire safety: so I kisse your hand

Ele. Farewell gentle Cosen

Iohn. Coz, farewell

Ele. Come hether little kinsman, harke, a worde

Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh There is a soule counts thee her Creditor, And with aduantage meanes to pay thy loue: And my good friend, thy voluntary oath Liues in this bosome, deerely cherished. Giue me thy hand, I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better tune. By heauen Hubert, I am almost asham'd To say what good respect I haue of thee

Hub. I am much bounden to your Maiesty

Iohn. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt haue: and creepe time nere so slow, Yet it shall come, for me to doe thee good. I had a thing to say, but let it goe: The Sunne is in the heauen, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes To giue me audience: If the mid-night bell Did with his yron tongue, and brazen mouth Sound on into the drowzie race of night: If this same were a Church-yard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs: Or if that surly spirit melancholy Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heauy, thicke, Which else runnes tickling vp and downe the veines, Making that idiot laughter keepe mens eyes, And straine their cheekes to idle merriment, A passion hatefull to my purposes: Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Heare me without thine eares, and make reply Without a tongue, vsing conceit alone, Without eyes, eares, and harmefull sound of words: Then, in despight of brooded watchfull day, I would into thy bosome poure my thoughts: But (ah) I will not, yet I loue thee well, And by my troth I thinke thou lou'st me well

Hub. So well, that what you bid me vndertake, Though that my death were adiunct to my Act, By heauen I would doe it

Iohn. Doe not I know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye On yon young boy: Ile tell thee what my friend, He is a very serpent in my way, And wheresoere this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me: dost thou vnderstand me? Thou art his keeper

Hub. And Ile keepe him so, That he shall not offend your Maiesty

Iohn. Death

Hub. My Lord

Iohn. A Graue

Hub. He shall not liue

Iohn. Enough. I could be merry now, Hubert, I loue thee. Well, Ile not say what I intend for thee: Remember: Madam, Fare you well, Ile send those powers o're to your Maiesty

Ele. My blessing goe with thee

Iohn. For England Cosen, goe. Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With al true duetie: On toward Callice, hoa.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants.

Fra. So by a roaring Tempest on the flood, A whole Armado of conuicted saile Is scattered and dis-ioyn'd from fellowship

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet goe well

Fra. What can goe well, when we haue runne so ill? Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur tane prisoner? diuers deere friends slaine? And bloudy England into England gone, Ore-bearing interruption spight of France? Dol. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: So hot a speed, with such aduice dispos'd, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: who hath read, or heard Of any kindred-action like to this? Fra. Well could I beare that England had this praise, So we could finde some patterne of our shame: Enter Constance.

Looke who comes heere? a graue vnto a soule, Holding th' eternall spirit against her will, In the vilde prison of afflicted breath: I prethee Lady goe away with me

Con. Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace

Fra. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance

Con. No, I defie all Counsell, all redresse, But that which ends all counsell, true Redresse: Death, death, O amiable, louely death, Thou odoriferous stench: sound rottennesse, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperitie, And I will kisse thy detestable bones, And put my eye-balls in thy vaultie browes, And ring these fingers with thy houshold wormes, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a Carrion Monster like thy selfe; Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou smil'st, And busse thee as thy wife: Miseries Loue, O come to me

Fra. O faire affliction, peace

Con. No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry: O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth, Then with a passion would I shake the world, And rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce, Which scornes a moderne Inuocation

Pand. Lady, you vtter madnesse, and not sorrow

Con. Thou art holy to belye me so, I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine, My name is Constance, I was Geffreyes wife, Yong Arthur is my sonne, and he is lost: I am not mad, I would to heauen I were, For then 'tis like I should forget my selfe: O, if I could, what griefe should I forget? Preach some Philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.) For, being not mad, but sensible of greefe, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliuer'd of these woes. And teaches mee to kill or hang my selfe: If I were mad, I should forget my sonne, Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he; I am not mad: too well, too well I feele The different plague of each calamitie

Fra. Binde vp those tresses: O what loue I note In the faire multitude of those her haires; Where but by chance a siluer drop hath falne, Euen to that drop ten thousand wiery fiends Doe glew themselues in sociable griefe, Like true, inseparable, faithfull loues, Sticking together in calamitie

Con. To England, if you will

Fra. Binde vp your haires

Con. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud, O, that these hands could so redeeme my sonne, As they haue giuen these hayres their libertie: But now I enuie at their libertie, And will againe commit them to their bonds, Because my poore childe is a prisoner. And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heauen: If that be true, I shall see my boy againe; For since the birth of Caine, the first male-childe To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature borne: But now will Canker-sorrow eat my bud, And chase the natiue beauty from his cheeke, And he will looke as hollow as a Ghost, As dim and meager as an Agues fitte, And so hee'll dye: and rising so againe, When I shall meet him in the Court of heauen I shall not know him: therefore neuer, neuer Must I behold my pretty Arthur more

Pand. You hold too heynous a respect of greefe

Const. He talkes to me, that neuer had a sonne

Fra. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe

Con. Greefe fils the roome vp of my absent childe: Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me, Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme; Then, haue I reason to be fond of griefe? Fareyouwell: had you such a losse as I, I could giue better comfort then you doe. I will not keepe this forme vpon my head, When there is such disorder in my witte: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire sonne, My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world: My widow-comfort, and my sorrowes cure. Enter.

Fra. I feare some out-rage, and Ile follow her. Enter

Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull eare of a drowsie man; And bitter shame hath spoyl'd the sweet words taste, That it yeelds nought but shame and bitternesse

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Euen in the instant of repaire and health, The fit is strongest: Euils that take leaue On their departure, most of all shew euill: What haue you lost by losing of this day? Dol. All daies of glory, ioy, and happinesse

Pan. If you had won it, certainely you had. No, no: when Fortune meanes to men most good, Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye: 'Tis strange to thinke how much King Iohn hath lost In this which he accounts so clearely wonne: Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his prisoner? Dol. As heartily as he is glad he hath him

Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood. Now heare me speake with a propheticke spirit: For euen the breath of what I meane to speake, Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foote to Englands Throne. And therefore marke: Iohn hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines, The mis-plac'dIohn should entertaine an houre, One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest. A Scepter snatch'd with an vnruly hand, Must be as boysterously maintain'd as gain'd. And he that stands vpon a slipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp: That Iohn may stand, then Arthur needs must fall, So be it, for it cannot be but so

Dol. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall? Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claime that Arthur did

Dol. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did

Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world? Iohn layes you plots: the times conspire with you, For he that steepes his safetie in true blood, Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vntrue. This Act so euilly borne shall coole the hearts Of all his people, and freeze vp their zeale, That none so small aduantage shall step forth To checke his reigne, but they will cherish it. No naturall exhalation in the skie, No scope of Nature, no distemper'd day, No common winde, no customed euent, But they will plucke away his naturall cause, And call them Meteors, prodigies, and signes, Abbortiues, presages, and tongues of heauen, Plainly denouncing vengeance vpon Iohn

Dol. May be he will not touch yong Arthurs life, But hold himselfe safe in his prisonment

Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach, If that yong Arthur be not gone alreadie, Euen at that newes he dies: and then the hearts Of all his people shall reuolt from him, And kisse the lippes of vnacquainted change, And picke strong matter of reuolt, and wrath Out of the bloody fingers ends of Iohn. Me thinkes I see this hurley all on foot; And O, what better matter breeds for you, Then I haue nam'd. The Bastard Falconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending Charity: If but a dozen French Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call To traine ten thousand English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a Mountaine. O noble Dolphine, Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderfull, What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their soules are topfull of offence, For England go; I will whet on the King

Dol. Strong reasons makes strange actions: let vs go, If you say I, the King will not say no.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heate me these Irons hot, and looke thou stand Within the Arras: when I strike my foot Vpon the bosome of the ground, rush forth And binde the boy, which you shall finde with me Fast to the chaire: be heedfull: hence, and watch

Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed

Hub. Vncleanly scruples feare not you: looke too't. Yong Lad come forth; I haue to say with you. Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince

Ar. As little Prince, hauing so great a Title To be more Prince, as may be: you are sad

Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier

Art. 'Mercie on me: Me thinkes no body should be sad but I: Yet I remember, when I was in France, Yong Gentlemen would be as sad as night Onely for wantonnesse: by my Christendome, So I were out of prison, and kept Sheepe I should be as merry as the day is long: And so I would be heere, but that I doubt My Vnckle practises more harme to me: He is affraid of me, and I of him: Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne? No in deede is't not: and I would to heauen I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert: Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercie, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch

Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day, Insooth I would you were a little sicke, That I might sit all night, and watch with you. I warrant I loue you more then you do me

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosome. Reade heere yong Arthur. How now foolish rheume? Turning dispitious torture out of doore? I must be breefe, least resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish teares. Can you not reade it? Is it not faire writ? Ar. Too fairely Hubert, for so foule effect, Must you with hot Irons, burne out both mine eyes? Hub. Yong Boy, I must

Art. And will you? Hub. And I will

Art. Haue you the heart? When your head did but ake, I knit my hand-kercher about your browes (The best I had, a Princesse wrought it me) And I did neuer aske it you againe: And with my hand, at midnight held your head; And like the watchfull minutes, to the houre, Still and anon cheer'd vp the heauy time; Saying, what lacke you? and where lies your greefe? Or what good loue may I performe for you? Many a poore mans sonne would haue lyen still, And nere haue spoke a louing word to you: But you, at your sicke seruice had a Prince: Nay, you may thinke my loue was craftie loue, And call it cunning. Do, and if you will, If heauen be pleas'd that you must vse me ill, Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes, that neuer did, nor neuer shall So much as frowne on you

Hub. I haue sworne to do it: And with hot Irons must I burne them out

Ar. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would do it: The Iron of it selfe, though heate red hot, Approaching neere these eyes, would drinke my teares, And quench this fierie indignation, Euen in the matter of mine innocence: Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harme mine eye: Are you more stubborne hard, then hammer'd Iron? And if an Angell should haue come to me, And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not haue beleeu'd him: no tongue but Huberts

Hub. Come forth: Do as I bid you do

Art. O saue me Hubert, saue me: my eyes are out Euen with the fierce lookes of these bloody men

Hub. Giue me the Iron I say, and binde him heere

Art. Alas, what neede you be so boistrous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone still: For heauen sake Hubert let me not be bound: Nay heare me Hubert, driue these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a Lambe. I will not stirre, nor winch, nor speake a word, Nor looke vpon the Iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and Ile forgiue you, What euer torment you do put me too

Hub. Go stand within: let me alone with him

Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deede

Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend, He hath a sterne looke, but a gentle heart: Let him come backe, that his compassion may Giue life to yours

Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe

Art. Is there no remedie? Hub. None, but to lose your eyes

Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours, A graine, a dust, a gnat, a wandering haire, Any annoyance in that precious sense: Then feeling what small things are boysterous there, Your vilde intent must needs seeme horrible

Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong

Art. Hubert, the vtterance of a brace of tongues, Must needes want pleading for a paire of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue: let me not Hubert, Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue, So I may keepe mine eyes. O spare mine eyes, Though to no vse, but still to looke on you. Loe, by my troth, the Instrument is cold, And would not harme me

Hub. I can heate it, Boy

Art. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefe, Being create for comfort, to be vs'd In vndeserued extreames: See else your selfe, There is no malice in this burning cole, The breath of heauen, hath blowne his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head

Hub. But with my breath I can reuiue it Boy

Art. And if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes: And, like a dogge that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his Master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should vse to do me wrong Deny their office: onely you do lacke That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy, lacking vses

Hub. Well, see to liue: I will not touch thine eye, For all the Treasure that thine Vnckle owes, Yet am I sworne, and I did purpose, Boy, With this same very Iron, to burne them out

Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while You were disguis'd

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu, Your Vnckle must not know but you are dead. Ile fill these dogged Spies with false reports: And, pretty childe, sleepe doubtlesse, and secure, That Hubert for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee

Art. O heauen! I thanke you Hubert

Hub. Silence, no more; go closely in with mee, Much danger do I vndergo for thee.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.

Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'd And look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes

Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd) Was once superfluous: you were Crown'd before, And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off: The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt: Fresh expectation troubled not the Land With any long'd-for-change, or better State

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pompe, To guard a Title, that was rich before; To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly; To throw a perfume on the Violet, To smooth the yce, or adde another hew Vnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-light To seeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish, Is wastefull, and ridiculous excesse

Pem. But that your Royall pleasure must be done, This acte, is as an ancient tale new told, And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being vrged at a time vnseasonable

Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted face Of plaine old forme, is much disfigured, And like a shifted winde vnto a saile, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles, and frights consideration: Makes sound opinion sicke, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe

Pem. When Workemen striue to do better then wel, They do confound their skill in couetousnesse, And oftentimes excusing of a fault, Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse: As patches set vpon a little breach, Discredite more in hiding of the fault, Then did the fault before it was so patch'd

Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd We breath'd our Councell: but it pleas'd your Highnes To ouer-beare it, and we are all well pleas'd, Since all, and euery part of what we would Doth make a stand, at what your Highnesse will

Ioh. Some reasons of this double Corronation I haue possest you with, and thinke them strong. And more, more strong, then lesser is my feare I shall indue you with: Meane time, but aske What you would haue reform'd, that is not well, And well shall you perceiue, how willingly I will both heare, and grant you your requests

Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these To sound the purposes of all their hearts, Both for my selfe, and them: but chiefe of all Your safety: for the which, my selfe and them Bend their best studies, heartily request Th' infranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth moue the murmuring lips of discontent To breake into this dangerous argument. If what in rest you haue, in right you hold, Why then your feares, which (as they say) attend The steppes of wrong, should moue you to mew vp Your tender kinsman, and to choake his dayes With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich aduantage of good exercise, That the times enemies may not haue this To grace occasions: let it be our suite, That you haue bid vs aske his libertie, Which for our goods, we do no further aske, Then, whereupon our weale on you depending, Counts it your weale: he haue his liberty. Enter Hubert.

Iohn. Let it be so: I do commit his youth To your direction: Hubert, what newes with you? Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed: He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine, The image of a wicked heynous fault Liues in his eye: that close aspect of his, Do shew the mood of a much troubled brest, And I do fearefully beleeue 'tis done, What we so fear'd he had a charge to do

Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and go Betweene his purpose and his conscience, Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must breake

Pem. And when it breakes, I feare will issue thence The foule corruption of a sweet childes death

Iohn. We cannot hold mortalities strong hand. Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing, The suite which you demand is gone, and dead. He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night

Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure

Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was, Before the childe himselfe felt he was sicke: This must be answer'd either heere, or hence

Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me? Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of destiny? Haue I commandement on the pulse of life? Sal. It is apparant foule-play, and 'tis shame That Greatnesse should so grossely offer it; So thriue it in your game, and so farewell

Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee, And finde th' inheritance of this poore childe, His little kingdome of a forced graue. That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile, Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while: This must not be thus borne, this will breake out To all our sorrowes, and ere long I doubt.

Exeunt.

Io. They burn in indignation: I repent: Enter Mes.

There is no sure foundation set on blood: No certaine life atchieu'd by others death: A fearefull eye thou hast. Where is that blood, That I haue seene inhabite in those cheekes? So foule a skie, cleeres not without a storme, Poure downe thy weather: how goes all in France? Mes. From France to England, neuer such a powre For any forraigne preparation, Was leuied in the body of a land. The Copie of your speede is learn'd by them: For when you should be told they do prepare, The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd

Ioh. Oh where hath our Intelligence bin drunke? Where hath it slept? Where is my Mothers care? That such an Army could be drawne in France, And she not heare of it? Mes. My Liege, her eare Is stopt with dust: the first of Aprill di'de Your noble mother; and as I heare, my Lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'de Three dayes before: but this from Rumors tongue I idely heard: if true, or false I know not

Iohn. With-hold thy speed, dreadfull Occasion: O make a league with me, 'till I haue pleas'd My discontented Peeres. What? Mother dead? How wildely then walkes my Estate in France? Vnder whose conduct came those powres of France, That thou for truth giu'st out are landed heere? Mes. Vnder the Dolphin. Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.

Ioh. Thou hast made me giddy With these ill tydings: Now? What sayes the world To your proceedings? Do not seeke to stuffe My head with more ill newes: for it is full

Bast. But if you be a-feard to heare the worst, Then let the worst vn-heard, fall on your head

Iohn. Beare with me Cosen, for I was amaz'd Vnder the tide; but now I breath againe Aloft the flood, and can giue audience To any tongue, speake it of what it will

Bast. How I haue sped among the Clergy men, The summes I haue collected shall expresse: But as I trauail'd hither through the land, I finde the people strangely fantasied, Possest with rumors, full of idle dreames, Not knowing what they feare, but full of feare. And here's a Prophet that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heeles: To whom he sung in rude harsh sounding rimes, That ere the next Ascension day at noone, Your Highnes should deliuer vp your Crowne

Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so

Iohn. Hubert, away with him: imprison him, And on that day at noone, whereon he sayes I shall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be hang'd Deliuer him to safety, and returne, For I must vse thee. O my gentle Cosen, Hear'st thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd? Bast. The French (my Lord) mens mouths are ful of it: Besides I met Lord Bigot, and Lord Salisburie With eyes as red as new enkindled fire, And others more, going to seeke the graue Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to night, on your suggestion

Iohn. Gentle kinsman, go And thrust thy selfe into their Companies, I haue a way to winne their loues againe: Bring them before me

Bast. I will seeke them out

Iohn. Nay, but make haste: the better foote before. O, let me haue no subiect enemies, When aduerse Forreyners affright my Townes With dreadfull pompe of stout inuasion. Be Mercurie, set feathers to thy heeles, And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe

Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.

Exit

Iohn. Spoke like a sprightfull Noble Gentleman. Go after him: for he perhaps shall neede Some Messenger betwixt me, and the Peeres, And be thou hee

Mes. With all my heart, my Liege

Iohn. My mother dead? Enter Hubert.

Hub. My Lord, they say fiue Moones were seene to night: Foure fixed, and the fift did whirle about The other foure, in wondrous motion

Ioh. Fiue Moones? Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets Do prophesie vpon it dangerously: Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths, And when they talke of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the eare. And he that speakes, doth gripe the hearers wrist, Whilst he that heares, makes fearefull action With wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a Smith stand with his hammer (thus) The whilst his Iron did on the Anuile coole, With open mouth swallowing a Taylors newes, Who with his Sheeres, and Measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust vpon contrary feete, Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent. Another leane, vnwash'd Artificer, Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death

Io. Why seek'st thou to possesse me with these feares? Why vrgest thou so oft yong Arthurs death? Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him

H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me? Iohn. It is the curse of Kings, to be attended By slaues, that take their humors for a warrant, To breake within the bloody house of life, And on the winking of Authoritie To vnderstand a Law; to know the meaning Of dangerous Maiesty, when perchance it frownes More vpon humor, then aduis'd respect

Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did

Ioh. Oh, when the last accompt twixt heauen & earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and Seale Witnesse against vs to damnation. How oft the sight of meanes to do ill deeds, Make deeds ill done? Had'st not thou beene by, A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd, Quoted, and sign'd to do a deede of shame, This murther had not come into my minde. But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villanie: Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death: And thou, to be endeered to a King, Made it no conscience to destroy a Prince

Hub. My Lord

Ioh. Had'st thou but shooke thy head, or made a pause When I spake darkely, what I purposed: Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my face; As bid me tell my tale in expresse words: Deepe shame had struck me dumbe, made me break off, And those thy feares, might haue wrought feares in me. But, thou didst vnderstand me by my signes, And didst in signes againe parley with sinne, Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently, thy rude hand to acte The deed, which both our tongues held vilde to name. Out of my sight, and neuer see me more: My Nobles leaue me, and my State is braued, Euen at my gates, with rankes of forraigne powres; Nay, in the body of this fleshly Land, This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breathe Hostilitie, and ciuill tumult reignes Betweene my conscience, and my Cosins death

Hub. Arme you against your other enemies: Ile make a peace betweene your soule, and you. Yong Arthur is aliue: This hand of mine Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand. Not painted with the Crimson spots of blood, Within this bosome, neuer entred yet The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought, And you haue slander'd Nature in my forme, Which howsoeuer rude exteriorly, Is yet the couer of a fayrer minde, Then to be butcher of an innocent childe

Iohn. Doth Arthur liue? O hast thee to the Peeres, Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience. Forgiue the Comment that my passion made Vpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde, And foule immaginarie eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous then thou art. Oh, answer not; but to my Closset bring The angry Lords, with all expedient hast, I coniure thee but slowly: run more fast.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Arthur on the walles.

Ar. The Wall is high, and yet will I leape downe. Good ground be pittifull, and hurt me not: There's few or none do know me, if they did, This Ship-boyes semblance hath disguis'd me quite. I am afraide, and yet Ile venture it. If I get downe, and do not breake my limbes, Ile finde a thousand shifts to get away; As good to dye, and go; as dye, and stay. Oh me, my Vnckles spirit is in these stones, Heauen take my soule, and England keep my bones.

Dies

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, & Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at S[aint]. Edmondsbury, It is our safetie, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perillous time

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinall? Sal. The Count Meloone, a Noble Lord of France, Whose priuate with me of the Dolphines loue, Is much more generall, then these lines import

Big. To morrow morning let vs meete him then

Sal. Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be Two long dayes iourney (Lords) or ere we meete. Enter Bastard.

Bast. Once more to day well met, distemper'd Lords, The King by me requests your presence straight

Sal. The king hath dispossest himselfe of vs, We will not lyne his thin-bestained cloake With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote That leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes. Returne, and tell him so: we know the worst

Bast. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke were best

Sal. Our greefes, and not our manners reason now

Bast. But there is little reason in your greefe. Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his priuiledge

Bast. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else

Sal. This is the prison: What is he lyes heere? P. Oh death, made proud with pure & princely beuty, The earth had not a hole to hide this deede

Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done, Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge

Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue, Found it too precious Princely, for a graue

Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld, Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke? Or do you almost thinke, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect Forme such another? This is the very top, The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto the Crest Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest Sauagery, the vildest stroke That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage Presented to the teares of soft remorse

Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this: And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable, Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie, To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times; And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest, Exampled by this heynous spectacle

Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke, The gracelesse action of a heauy hand, If that it be the worke of any hand

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand? We had a kinde of light, what would ensue: It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand, The practice, and the purpose of the king: From whose obedience I forbid my soule, Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life, And breathing to his breathlesse Excellence The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow: Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world, Neuer to be infected with delight, Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse, Till I haue set a glory to this hand, By giuing it the worship of Reuenge

Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words. Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you, Arthur doth liue, the king hath sent for you

Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death, Auant thou hatefull villain, get thee gone

Hu. I am no villaine

Sal. Must I rob the Law? Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe

Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin

Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say By heauen, I thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours. I would not haue you (Lord) forget your selfe, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Least I, by marking of your rage, forget Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility

Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman? Hub. Not for my life: But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer

Hub. Do not proue me so: Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false, Not truely speakes: who speakes not truly, Lies

Pem. Cut him to peeces

Bast. Keepe the peace, I say

Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge

Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury. If thou but frowne on me, or stirre thy foote, Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame, Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime, Or Ile so maule you, and your tosting-Iron, That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none

Big. Who kill'd this Prince? Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lou'd him, and will weepe My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse

Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villanie is not without such rheume, And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme Like Riuers of remorse and innocencie. Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre Th' vncleanly sauours of a Slaughter-house, For I am stifled with this smell of sinne

Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there

P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out.

Ex. Lords.

Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work? Beyond the infinite and boundlesse reach of mercie, (If thou didst this deed of death) art y damn'd Hubert

Hub. Do but heare me sir

Bast. Ha? Ile tell thee what. Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, nay nothing is so blacke, Thou art more deepe damn'd then Prince Lucifer: There is not yet so vgly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this childe

Hub. Vpon my soule

Bast. If thou didst but consent To this most cruell Act: do but dispaire, And if thou want'st a Cord, the smallest thred That euer Spider twisted from her wombe Will serue to strangle thee: A rush will be a beame To hang thee on. Or wouldst thou drowne thy selfe, Put but a little water in a spoone, And it shall be as all the Ocean, Enough to stifle such a villaine vp. I do suspect thee very greeuously

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sinne of thought, Be guiltie of the stealing that sweete breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want paines enough to torture me: I left him well

Bast. Go, beare him in thine armes: I am amaz'd me thinkes, and loose my way Among the thornes, and dangers of this world. How easie dost thou take all England vp, From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie? The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme Is fled to heauen: and England now is left To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth The vn-owed interest of proud swelling State: Now for the bare-pickt bone of Maiesty, Doth dogged warre bristle his angry crest, And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: Now Powers from home, and discontents at home Meet in one line: and vast confusion waites As doth a Rauen on a sicke-falne beast, The iminent decay of wrested pompe. Now happy he, whose cloake and center can Hold out this tempest. Beare away that childe, And follow me with speed: Ile to the King: A thousand businesses are briefe in hand, And heauen it selfe doth frowne vpon the Land. Enter.

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter King Iohn and Pandolph, attendants.

K.Iohn. Thus haue I yeelded vp into your hand The Circle of my glory

Pan. Take againe From this my hand, as holding of the Pope Your Soueraigne greatnesse and authoritie

Iohn. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French, And from his holinesse vse all your power To stop their marches 'fore we are enflam'd: Our discontented Counties doe reuolt: Our people quarrell with obedience, Swearing Allegiance, and the loue of soule To stranger-bloud, to forren Royalty; This inundation of mistempred humor, Rests by you onely to be qualified. Then pause not: for the present time's so sicke, That present medcine must be ministred, Or ouerthrow incureable ensues

Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempest vp, Vpon your stubborne vsage of the Pope: But since you are a gentle conuertite, My tongue shall hush againe this storme of warre, And make faire weather in your blustring land: On this Ascention day, remember well, Vpon your oath of seruice to the Pope, Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes. Enter.

Iohn. Is this Ascension day? did not the Prophet Say, that before Ascension day at noone, My Crowne I should giue off? euen so I haue: I did suppose it should be on constraint, But (heau'n be thank'd) it is but voluntary. Enter Bastard.

Bast. All Kent hath yeelded: nothing there holds out But Douer Castle: London hath receiu'd Like a kinde Host, the Dolphin and his powers. Your Nobles will not heare you, but are gone To offer seruice to your enemy: And wilde amazement hurries vp and downe The little number of your doubtfull friends

Iohn. Would not my Lords returne to me againe After they heard yong Arthur was aliue? Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the streets, An empty Casket, where the Iewell of life By some damn'd hand was rob'd, and tane away

Iohn. That villaine Hubert told me he did liue

Bast. So on my soule he did, for ought he knew: But wherefore doe you droope? why looke you sad? Be great in act, as you haue beene in thought: Let not the world see feare and sad distrust Gouerne the motion of a kinglye eye: Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire, Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow Of bragging horror: So shall inferior eyes That borrow their behauiours from the great, Grow great by your example, and put on The dauntlesse spirit of resolution. Away, and glister like the god of warre When he intendeth to become the field: Shew boldnesse and aspiring confidence: What, shall they seeke the Lion in his denne, And fright him there? and make him tremble there? Oh let it not be said: forrage, and runne To meet displeasure farther from the dores, And grapple with him ere he come so nye

Iohn. The Legat of the Pope hath beene with mee, And I haue made a happy peace with him, And he hath promis'd to dismisse the Powers Led by the Dolphin

Bast. Oh inglorious league: Shall we vpon the footing of our land, Send fayre-play-orders, and make comprimise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce To Armes Inuasiue? Shall a beardlesse boy, A cockred-silken wanton braue our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warre-like soyle, Mocking the ayre with colours idlely spred, And finde no checke? Let vs my Liege to Armes: Perchance the Cardinall cannot make your peace; Or if he doe, let it at least be said They saw we had a purpose of defence

Iohn. Haue thou the ordering of this present time

Bast. Away then with good courage: yet I know Our Partie may well meet a prowder foe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter (in Armes) Dolphin, Salisbury, Meloone, Pembroke, Bigot, Souldiers.

Dol. My Lord Melloone, let this be coppied out, And keepe it safe for our remembrance: Returne the president to these Lords againe, That hauing our faire order written downe, Both they and we, perusing ore these notes May know wherefore we tooke the Sacrament, And keepe our faithes firme and inuiolable

Sal. Vpon our sides it neuer shall be broken. And Noble Dolphin, albeit we sweare A voluntary zeale, and an vn-urg'd Faith To your proceedings: yet beleeue me Prince, I am not glad that such a sore of Time Should seeke a plaster by contemn'd reuolt, And heale the inueterate Canker of one wound, By making many: Oh it grieues my soule, That I must draw this mettle from my side To be a widdow-maker: oh, and there Where honourable rescue, and defence Cries out vpon the name of Salisbury. But such is the infection of the time, That for the health and Physicke of our right, We cannot deale but with the very hand Of sterne Iniustice, and confused wrong: And is't not pitty, (oh my grieued friends) That we, the sonnes and children of this Isle, Was borne to see so sad an houre as this, Wherein we step after a stranger, march Vpon her gentle bosom, and fill vp Her Enemies rankes? I must withdraw, and weepe Vpon the spot of this inforced cause, To grace the Gentry of a Land remote, And follow vnacquainted colours heere: What heere? O Nation that thou couldst remoue, That Neptunes Armes who clippeth thee about, Would beare thee from the knowledge of thy selfe, And cripple thee vnto a Pagan shore, Where these two Christian Armies might combine The bloud of malice, in a vaine of league, And not to spend it so vn-neighbourly

Dolph. A noble temper dost thou shew in this, And great affections wrastling in thy bosome Doth make an earth-quake of Nobility: Oh, what a noble combat hast fought Between compulsion, and a braue respect: Let me wipe off this honourable dewe, That siluerly doth progresse on thy cheekes: My heart hath melted at a Ladies teares, Being an ordinary Inundation: But this effusion of such manly drops, This showre, blowne vp by tempest of the soule, Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd Then had I seene the vaultie top of heauen Figur'd quite ore with burning Meteors. Lift vp thy brow (renowned Salisburie) And with a great heart heaue away this storme: Commend these waters to those baby-eyes That neuer saw the giant-world enrag'd, Nor met with Fortune, other then at feasts, Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossipping: Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deepe Into the purse of rich prosperity As Lewis himselfe: so (Nobles) shall you all, That knit your sinewes to the strength of mine. Enter Pandulpho.

And euen there, methinkes an Angell spake, Looke where the holy Legate comes apace, To giue vs warrant from the hand of heauen, And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath

Pand. Haile noble Prince of France: The next is this: King Iohn hath reconcil'd Himselfe to Rome, his spirit is come in, That so stood out against the holy Church, The great Metropolis and Sea of Rome: Therefore thy threatning Colours now winde vp, And tame the sauage spirit of wilde warre, That like a Lion fostered vp at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace, And be no further harmefull then in shewe

Dol. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not backe: I am too high-borne to be proportied To be a secondary at controll, Or vsefull seruing-man, and Instrument To any Soueraigne State throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coale of warres, Betweene this chastiz'd kingdome and my selfe, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis farre too huge to be blowne out With that same weake winde, 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 ye now to tell me Iohn hath made His peace with Rome? what is that peace to me? I (by the honour of my marriage bed) After yong Arthur, claime this Land for mine, And now it is halfe conquer'd, must I backe, Because that Iohn hath made his peace with Rome? Am I Romes slaue? What penny hath Rome borne? What men prouided? What munition sent To vnder-prop this Action? Is't not I That vnder-goe this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claime are liable, Sweat in this businesse, and maintaine this warre? Haue I not heard these Islanders shout out Viue le Roy, as I haue bank'd their Townes? Haue I not heere the best Cards for the game To winne this easie match, plaid for a Crowne? And shall I now giue ore the yeelded Set? No, no, on my soule it neuer shall be said

Pand. You looke but on the out-side of this worke

Dol. Out-side or in-side, I will not returne Till my attempt so much be glorified, As to my ample hope was promised, Before I drew this gallant head of warre, And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world To out-looke Conquest, and to winne renowne Euen in the iawes of danger, and of death: What lusty Trumpet thus doth summon vs? Enter Bastard.

Bast. According to the faire-play of the world, Let me haue audience: I am sent to speake: My holy Lord of Millane, from the King I come to learne how you haue dealt for him: And, as you answer, I doe know the scope And warrant limited vnto my tongue

Pand. The Dolphin is too wilfull opposite And will not temporize with my intreaties: He flatly saies, hee'll not lay downe his Armes

Bast. By all the bloud that euer fury breath'd, The youth saies well. Now heare our English King, For thus his Royaltie doth speake in me: He is prepar'd, and reason to he should, This apish and vnmannerly approach, This harness'd Maske, and vnaduised Reuell, This vn-heard sawcinesse and boyish Troopes, The King doth smile at, and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish warre, this Pigmy Armes From out the circle of his Territories. That hand which had the strength, euen at your dore, To cudgell you, and make you take the hatch, To diue like Buckets in concealed Welles, To crowch in litter of your stable plankes, To lye like pawnes, lock'd vp in chests and truncks, To hug with swine, to seeke sweet safety out In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake, Euen at the crying of your Nations crow, Thinking this voyce an armed Englishman. Shall that victorious hand be feebled heere, That in your Chambers gaue you chasticement? No: know the gallant Monarch is in Armes, And like an Eagle, o're his ayerie towres, To sowsse annoyance that comes neere his Nest; And you degenerate, you ingrate Reuolts, You bloudy Nero's, ripping vp the wombe Of your deere Mother-England: blush for shame: For your owne Ladies, and pale-visag'd Maides, Like Amazons, come tripping after drummes: Their thimbles into armed Gantlets change, Their Needl's to Lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination

Dol. There end thy braue, and turn thy face in peace, We grant thou canst out-scold vs: Far thee well, We hold our time too precious to be spent with such a brabler

Pan. Giue me leaue to speake

Bast. No, I will speake

Dol. We will attend to neyther: Strike vp the drummes, and let the tongue of warre Pleade for our interest, and our being heere

Bast. Indeede your drums being beaten, wil cry out; And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start An eccho with the clamor of thy drumme, And euen at hand, a drumme is readie brac'd, That shall reuerberate all, as lowd as thine. Sound but another, and another shall (As lowd as thine) rattle the Welkins eare, And mocke the deepe mouth'd Thunder: for at hand (Not trusting to this halting Legate heere, Whom he hath vs'd rather for sport, then neede) Is warlike Iohn: and in his fore-head sits A bare-rib'd death, whose office is this day To feast vpon whole thousands of the French

Dol. Strike vp our drummes, to finde this danger out

Bast. And thou shalt finde it (Dolphin) do not doubt

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Alarums. Enter Iohn and Hubert.

Iohn. How goes the day with vs? oh tell me Hubert

Hub. Badly I feare; how fares your Maiesty? Iohn. This Feauer that hath troubled me so long, Lyes heauie on me: oh, my heart is sicke. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. My Lord: your valiant kinsman Falconbridge, Desires your Maiestie to leaue the field, And send him word by me, which way you go

Iohn. Tell him toward Swinsted, to the Abbey there

Mes. Be of good comfort: for the great supply That was expected by the Dolphin heere, Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. This newes was brought to Richard but euen now, The French fight coldly, and retyre themselues

Iohn. Aye me, this tyrant Feauer burnes mee vp, And will not let me welcome this good newes. Set on toward Swinsted: to my Litter straight, Weaknesse possesseth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not thinke the King so stor'd with friends

Pem. Vp once againe: put spirit in the French, If they miscarry: we miscarry too

Sal. That misbegotten diuell Falconbridge, In spight of spight, alone vpholds the day

Pem. They say King Iohn sore sick, hath left the field. Enter Meloon wounded.

Mel. Lead me to the Reuolts of England heere

Sal. When we were happie, we had other names

Pem. It is the Count Meloone

Sal. Wounded to death

Mel. Fly Noble English, you are bought and sold, Vnthred the rude eye of Rebellion, And welcome home againe discarded faith, Seeke out King Iohn, and fall before his feete: For if the French be Lords of this loud day, He meanes to recompence the paines you take, By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworne, And I with him, and many moe with mee, Vpon the Altar at S[aint]. Edmondsbury, Euen on that Altar, where we swore to you Deere Amity, and euerlasting loue

Sal. May this be possible? May this be true? Mel. Haue I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away, euen as a forme of waxe Resolueth from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceiue, Since I must loose the vse of all deceite? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must dye heere, and liue hence, by Truth? I say againe, if Lewis do win the day, He is forsworne, if ere those eyes of yours Behold another day breake in the East: But euen this night, whose blacke contagious breath Already smoakes about the burning Crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sunne, Euen this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated Treachery, Euen with a treacherous fine of all your liues: If Lewis, by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your King; The loue of him, and this respect besides (For that my Grandsire was an Englishman) Awakes my Conscience to confesse all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you beare me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the Field; Where I may thinke the remnant of my thoughts In peace: and part this bodie and my soule With contemplation, and deuout desires

Sal. We do beleeue thee, and beshrew my soule, But I do loue the fauour, and the forme Of this most faire occasion, by the which We will vntread the steps of damned flight, And like a bated and retired Flood, Leauing our ranknesse and irregular course, Stoope lowe within those bounds we haue ore-look'd, And calmely run on in obedience Euen to our Ocean, to our great King Iohn. My arme shall giue thee helpe to beare thee hence, For I do see the cruell pangs of death Right in thine eye. Away, my friends, new flight, And happie newnesse, that intends old right.

Exeunt.

Scena Quinta.

Enter Dolphin, and his Traine.

Dol. The Sun of heauen (me thought) was loth to set; But staid, and made the Westerne Welkin blush, When English measure backward their owne ground In faint Retire: Oh brauely came we off, When with a volley of our needlesse shot, After such bloody toile, we bid good night, And woon'd our tott'ring colours clearly vp, Last in the field, and almost Lords of it. Enter a Messenger.

Mes. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin? Dol. Heere: what newes? Mes. The Count Meloone is slaine: The English Lords By his perswasion, are againe falne off, And your supply, which you haue wish'd so long, Are cast away, and sunke on Goodwin sands

Dol. Ah fowle, shrew'd newes. Beshrew thy very hart: I did not thinke to be so sad to night As this hath made me. Who was he that said King Iohn did flie an houre or two before The stumbling night did part our wearie powres? Mes. Who euer spoke it, it is true my Lord

Dol. Well: keepe good quarter, & good care to night, The day shall not be vp so soone as I, To try the faire aduenture of to morrow.

Exeunt.

Scena Sexta.

Enter Bastard and Hubert, seuerally.

Hub. Whose there? Speake hoa, speake quickely, or I shoote

Bast. A Friend. What art thou? Hub. Of the part of England

Bast. Whether doest thou go? Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand of thine affaires, As well as thou of mine? Bast. Hubert, I thinke

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought: I will vpon all hazards well beleeue Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: Who art thou? Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please Thou maist be-friend me so much, as to thinke I come one way of the Plantagenets

Hub. Vnkinde remembrance: thou, & endles night, Haue done me shame: Braue Soldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue, Should scape the true acquaintance of mine eare

Bast. Come, come: sans complement, What newes abroad? Hub. Why heere walke I in the black brow of night To finde you out

Bast. Breefe then: and what's the newes? Hub. O my sweet sir, newes fitting to the night, Blacke, fearefull, comfortlesse, and horrible

Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill newes, I am no woman, Ile not swound at it

Hub. The King I feare is poyson'd by a Monke, I left him almost speechlesse, and broke out To acquaint you with this euill, that you might The better arme you to the sodaine time, Then if you had at leisure knowne of this

Bast. How did he take it? Who did taste to him? Hub. A Monke I tell you, a resolued villaine Whose Bowels sodainly burst out: The King Yet speakes, and peraduenture may recouer

Bast. Who didst thou leaue to tend his Maiesty? Hub. Why know you not? The Lords are all come backe, And brought Prince Henry in their companie, At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his Maiestie

Bast. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heauen, And tempt vs not to beare aboue our power. Ile tell thee Hubert, halfe my power this night Passing these Flats, are taken by the Tide, These Lincolne-Washes haue deuoured them, My selfe, well mounted, hardly haue escap'd. Away before: Conduct me to the king, I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come.

Exeunt.

Scena Septima.

Enter Prince Henry, Salisburie, and Bigot.

Hen. It is too late, the life of all his blood Is touch'd, corruptibly: and his pure braine (Which some suppose the soules fraile dwelling house) Doth by the idle Comments that it makes, Fore-tell the ending of mortality. Enter Pembroke.

Pem. His Highnesse yet doth speak, & holds beleefe, That being brought into the open ayre, It would allay the burning qualitie Of that fell poison which assayleth him

Hen. Let him be brought into the Orchard heere: Doth he still rage? Pem. He is more patient Then when you left him; euen now he sung

Hen. Oh vanity of sicknesse: fierce extreames In their continuance, will not feele themselues. Death hauing praide vpon the outward parts Leaues them inuisible, and his seige is now Against the winde, the which he prickes and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies, Which in their throng, and presse to that last hold, Counfound themselues. 'Tis strange y death shold sing: I am the Symet to this pale faint Swan, Who chaunts a dolefull hymne to his owne death, And from the organ-pipe of frailety sings His soule and body to their lasting rest

Sal. Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne To set a forme vpon that indigest Which he hath left so shapelesse, and so rude.

Iohn brought in.

Iohn. I marrie, now my soule hath elbow roome, It would not out at windowes, nor at doores, There is so hot a summer in my bosome, That all my bowels crumble vp to dust: I am a scribled forme drawne with a pen Vpon a Parchment, and against this fire Do I shrinke vp

Hen. How fares your Maiesty? Ioh. Poyson'd, ill fare: dead, forsooke, cast off, And none of you will bid the winter come To thrust his ycie fingers in my maw; Nor let my kingdomes Riuers take their course Through my burn'd bosome: nor intreat the North To make his bleake windes kisse my parched lips, And comfort me with cold. I do not aske you much, I begge cold comfort: and you are so straight And so ingratefull, you deny me that

Hen. Oh that there were some vertue in my teares, That might releeue you

Iohn. The salt in them is hot. Within me is a hell, and there the poyson Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize, On vnrepreeuable condemned blood. Enter Bastard.

Bast. Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleene of speede, to see your Maiesty

Iohn. Oh Cozen, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my heart, is crack'd and burnt, And all the shrowds wherewith my life should saile, Are turned to one thred, one little haire: My heart hath one poore string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy newes be vttered, And then all this thou seest, is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty

Bast. The Dolphin is preparing hither-ward, Where heauen he knowes how we shall answer him. For in a night the best part of my powre, As I vpon aduantage did remoue, Were in the Washes all vnwarily, Deuoured by the vnexpected flood

Sal. You breath these dead newes in as dead an eare My Liege, my Lord: but now a King, now thus

Hen. Euen so must I run on, and euen 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 behinde, To do the office for thee, of reuenge, And then my soule shall waite on thee to heauen, As it on earth hath bene thy seruant still. Now, now you Starres, that moue in your right spheres, Where be your powres? Shew now your mended faiths, And instantly returne with me againe. To push destruction, and perpetuall shame Out of the weake doore of our fainting Land: Straight let vs seeke, or straight we shall be sought, The Dolphine rages at our verie heeles

Sal. It seemes you know not then so much as we, The Cardinall Pandulph is within at rest, Who halfe an houre since came from the Dolphin, And brings from him such offers of our peace, As we with honor and respect may take, With purpose presently to leaue this warre

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees Our selues well sinew'd to our defence

Sal. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already, For many carriages hee hath dispatch'd To the sea side, and put his cause and quarrell To the disposing of the Cardinall, With whom your selfe, my selfe, and other Lords, If you thinke meete, this afternoone will poast To consummate this businesse happily

Bast. Let it be so, and you my noble Prince, With other Princes that may best be spar'd, Shall waite vpon your Fathers Funerall

Hen. At Worster must his bodie be interr'd, For so he will'd it

Bast. Thither shall it then, And happily may your sweet selfe put on The lineall state, and glorie of the Land, To whom with all submission on my knee, I do bequeath my faithfull seruices And true subiection euerlastingly

Sal. And the like tender of our loue wee make To rest without a spot for euermore

Hen. I haue a kinde soule, that would giue thankes, And knowes not how to do it, but with teares

Bast. Oh let vs pay the time: but needfull woe, Since it hath beene before hand with our greefes. This England neuer did, nor neuer shall Lye at the proud foote of a Conqueror, But when it first did helpe to wound it selfe. Now, these her Princes are come home againe, Come the three corners of the world in Armes, And we shall shocke them: Naught shall make vs rue, If England to it selfe, do rest but true.

Exeunt.

The life and death of King Iohn.

The life and death of King Richard the Second

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter King Richard, Iohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.

King Richard. Old Iohn of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster, Hast thou according to thy oath and band Brought hither Henry Herford thy bold son: Heere to make good y boistrous late appeale, Which then our leysure would not let vs heare, Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray? Gaunt. I haue my Liege

King. Tell me moreouer, hast thou sounded him, If he appeale the Duke on ancient malice, Or worthily as a good subiect should On some knowne ground of treacherie in him

Gaunt. As neere as I could sift him on that argument, On some apparant danger seene in him, Aym'd at your Highnesse, no inueterate malice

Kin. Then call them to our presence face to face, And frowning brow to brow, our selues will heare Th' accuser, and the accused, freely speake; High stomack'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage, deafe as the sea; hastie as fire. Enter Bullingbrooke and Mowbray.

Bul. Many yeares of happy dayes befall My gracious Soueraigne, my most louing Liege

Mow. Each day still better others happinesse, Vntill the heauens enuying earths good hap, Adde an immortall title to your Crowne

King. We thanke you both, yet one but flatters vs, As well appeareth by the cause you come, Namely, to appeale each other of high treason. Coosin of Hereford, what dost thou obiect Against the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray? Bul. First, heauen be the record to my speech, In the deuotion of a subiects loue, Tendering the precious safetie of my Prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appealant to this Princely presence. Now Thomas Mowbray do I turne to thee, And marke my greeting well: for what I speake, My body shall make good vpon this earth, Or my diuine soule answer it in heauen. Thou art a Traitor, and a Miscreant; Too good to be so, and too bad to liue, Since the more faire and christall is the skie, The vglier seeme the cloudes that in it flye: Once more, the more to aggrauate the note, With a foule Traitors name stuffe I thy throte, And wish (so please my Soueraigne) ere I moue, What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may proue Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale: 'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine: The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, As to be husht, and nought at all to say. First the faire reuerence of your Highnesse curbes mee, From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech, Which else would post, vntill it had return'd These tearmes of treason, doubly downe his throat. Setting aside his high bloods royalty, And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege, I do defie him, and I spit at him, Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine: Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes, And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote, Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes, Or any other ground inhabitable, Where euer Englishman durst set his foote. Meane time, let this defend my loyaltie, By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie

Bul. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming heere the kindred of a King, And lay aside my high bloods Royalty, Which feare, not reuerence makes thee to except. If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, As to take vp mine Honors pawne, then stoope. By that, and all the rites of Knight-hood else, Will I make good against thee arme to arme, What I haue spoken, or thou canst deuise

Mow. I take it vp, and by that sword I sweare, Which gently laid my Knight-hood on my shoulder, Ile answer thee in any faire degree, Or Chiualrous designe of knightly triall: And when I mount, aliue may I not light, If I be Traitor, or vniustly fight

King. What doth our Cosin lay to Mowbraies charge? It must be great that can inherite vs, So much as of a thought of ill in him

Bul. Looke what I said, my life shall proue it true, That Mowbray hath receiu'd eight thousand Nobles, In name of lendings for your Highnesse Soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false Traitor, and iniurious Villaine. Besides I say, and will in battaile proue, Or heere, or elsewhere to the furthest Verge That euer was suruey'd by English eye, That all the Treasons for these eighteene yeeres Complotted, and contriued in this Land, Fetch'd from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Further I say, and further will maintaine Vpon his bad life, to make all this good. That he did plot the Duke of Glousters death, Suggest his soone beleeuing aduersaries, And consequently, like a Traitor Coward, Sluc'd out his innocent soule through streames of blood: Which blood, like sacrificing Abels cries, (Euen from the toonglesse cauernes of the earth) To me for iustice, and rough chasticement: And by the glorious worth of my discent, This arme shall do it, or this life be spent

King. How high a pitch his resolution soares: Thomas of Norfolke, what sayest thou to this? Mow. Oh let my Soueraigne turne away his face, And bid his eares a little while be deafe, Till I haue told this slander of his blood, How God, and good men, hate so foule a lyar

King. Mowbray, impartiall are our eyes and eares, Were he my brother, nay our kingdomes heyre, As he is but my fathers brothers sonne; Now by my Scepters awe, I make a vow, Such neighbour-neerenesse to our sacred blood, Should nothing priuiledge him, nor partialize The vn-stooping firmenesse of my vpright soule. He is our subiect (Mowbray) so art thou, Free speech, and fearelesse, I to thee allow

Mow. Then Bullingbrooke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat; thou lyest: Three parts of that receipt I had for Callice, Disburst I to his Highnesse souldiers; The other part reseru'd I by consent, For that my Soueraigne Liege was in my debt, Vpon remainder of a deere Accompt, Since last I went to France to fetch his Queene: Now swallow downe that Lye. For Glousters death, I slew him not; but (to mine owne disgrace) Neglected my sworne duty in that case: For you my noble Lord of Lancaster, The honourable Father to my foe, Once I did lay an ambush for your life, A trespasse that doth vex my greeued soule: But ere I last receiu'd the Sacrament, I did confesse it, and exactly begg'd Your Graces pardon, and I hope I had it. This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd, It issues from the rancour of a Villaine, A recreant, and most degenerate Traitor, Which in my selfe I boldly will defend, And interchangeably hurle downe my gage Vpon this ouer-weening Traitors foote, To proue my selfe a loyall Gentleman, Euen in the best blood chamber'd in his bosome. In hast whereof, most heartily I pray Your Highnesse to assigne our Triall day

King. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen be rul'd by me: Let's purge this choller without letting blood: This we prescribe, though no Physition, Deepe malice makes too deepe incision. Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed, Our Doctors say, This is no time to bleed. Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun, Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son

Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age, Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage

King. And Norfolke, throw downe his

Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids, Obedience bids I should not bid agen

King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is no boote

Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot. My life thou shalt command, but not my shame, The one my dutie owes, but my faire name Despight of death, that liues vpon my graue To darke dishonours vse, thou shalt not haue. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffel'd heere, Pierc'd to the soule with slanders venom'd speare: The which no balme can cure, but his heart blood Which breath'd this poyson

King. Rage must be withstood: Giue me his gage: Lyons make Leopards tame

Mo. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame, And I resigne my gage. My deere, deere Lord, The purest treasure mortall times afford Is spotlesse reputation: that away, Men are but gilded loame, or painted clay. A Iewell in a ten times barr'd vp Chest, Is a bold spirit, in a loyall brest. Mine Honor is my life; both grow in one: Take Honor from me, and my life is done. Then (deere my Liege) mine Honor let me trie, In that I liue; and for that will I die

King. Coosin, throw downe your gage, Do you begin

Bul. Oh heauen defend my soule from such foule sin. Shall I seeme Crest-falne in my fathers sight, Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my hight Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my toong, Shall wound mine honor with such feeble wrong; Or sound so base a parle: my teeth shall teare The slauish motiue of recanting feare, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, euen in Mowbrayes face.

Exit Gaunt.

King. We were not borne to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be readie, (as your liues shall answer it) At Couentree, vpon S[aint]. Lamberts day: There shall your swords and Lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your setled hate: Since we cannot attone you, you shall see Iustice designe the Victors Chiualrie. Lord Marshall, command our Officers at Armes, Be readie to direct these home Alarmes.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter Gaunt, and Dutchesse of Gloucester.

Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Glousters blood, Doth more solicite me then your exclaimes, To stirre against the Butchers of his life. But since correction lyeth in those hands Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen, Who when they see the houres ripe on earth, Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads

Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre? Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire? Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one) Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood, Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote: Some of those seuen are dride by natures course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster, One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded By Enuies hand, and Murders bloody Axe. Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe, That mettle, that selfe-mould that fashion'd thee, Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st, Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy Fathers death, In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye, Who was the modell of thy Fathers life. Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire, In suffring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee: That which in meane men we intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests: What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life, The best way is to venge my Glousters death

Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrell: for heauens substitute His Deputy annointed in his sight, Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift An angry arme against his Minister

Dut. Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe? Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight: O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare, That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest: Or if misfortune misse the first carreere, Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome, That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe, And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists, A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford: Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife With her companion Greefe, must end her life

Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree, As much good stay with thee, as go with mee

Dut. Yet one word more: Greefe boundeth where it falls, Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight: I take my leaue, before I haue begun, For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done. Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke. Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so, Though this be all, do not so quickly go, I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what? With all good speed at Plashie visit mee. Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles, Vn-peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones? And what heare there for welcome, but my grones? Therefore commend me, let him not come there, To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where: Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye, The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.

Mar. My L[ord]. Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in

Mar. The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet

Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Maiesties approach.

Flourish.

Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in Armor, and Harrold.

Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes, Aske him his name, and orderly proceed To sweare him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y art, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes? Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell, Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour

Mow. My name is Tho[mas]. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither comes engaged by my oath (Which heauen defend a knight should violate) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me: And by the grace of God, and this mine arme, To proue him (in defending of my selfe) A Traitor to my God, my King, and me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.

Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.

Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, Both who he is, and why he commeth hither, Thus placed in habiliments of warre: And formerly according to our Law Depose him in the iustice of his cause

Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y hither Before King Richard in his Royall Lists? Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen

Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes, To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour, In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen

Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold, Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes, Except the Marshall, and such Officers Appointed to direct these faire designes

Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, And bow my knee before his Maiestie: For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue And louing farwell of our seuerall friends

Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes, And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue

Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes. Cosin of Herford, as thy cause is iust, So be thy fortune in this Royall fight: Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead, Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead

Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare: As confident, as is the Falcons flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you, Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle; Not sicke, although I haue to do with death, But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath. Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. Oh thou the earthy author of my blood, Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate, Doth with a two-fold rigor lift mee vp To reach at victory aboue my head, Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres, And with thy blessings steele my Lances point, That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate, And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt, Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne