ACT VSCENE I. Northampton. A Room in the Palace.EnterKing John, Pandulphwith the crown, and Attendants.KING JOHN.Thus have I yielded up into your handThe circle of my glory.PANDULPH.[Giving King John the crown.]Take againFrom this my hand, as holding of the pope,Your sovereign greatness and authority.KING JOHN.Now keep your holy word. Go meet the French,And from his holiness use all your powerTo stop their marches ’fore we are inflam’d.Our discontented counties do revolt;Our people quarrel with obedience,Swearing allegiance and the love of soulTo stranger blood, to foreign royalty.This inundation of mistemper’d humourRests by you only to be qualified.Then pause not; for the present time’s so sickThat present med’cine must be minist’redOr overthrow incurable ensues.PANDULPH.It was my breath that blew this tempest up,Upon your stubborn usage of the pope;But since you are a gentle convertite,My tongue shall hush again this storm of warAnd make fair weather in your blust’ring land.On this Ascension-day, remember well,Upon your oath of service to the pope,Go I to make the French lay down their arms.[Exit.]KING JOHN.Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophetSay that before Ascension-day at noonMy crown I should give off? Even so I have.I did suppose it should be on constraint;But, heaven be thank’d, it is but voluntary.Enter theBastard.BASTARD.All Kent hath yielded. Nothing there holds outBut Dover Castle. London hath receiv’d,Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers.Your nobles will not hear you, but are goneTo offer service to your enemy;And wild amazement hurries up and downThe little number of your doubtful friends.KING JOHN.Would not my lords return to me againAfter they heard young Arthur was alive?BASTARD.They found him dead and cast into the streets,An empty casket, where the jewel of lifeBy some damn’d hand was robb’d and ta’en away.KING JOHN.That villain Hubert told me he did live.BASTARD.So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew.But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad?Be great in act, as you have been in thought;Let not the world see fear and sad distrustGovern the motion of a kingly eye.Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;Threaten the threat’ner, and outface the browOf bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes,That borrow their behaviours from the great,Grow great by your example and put onThe dauntless spirit of resolution.Away, and glister like the god of warWhen he intendeth to become the field.Show boldness and aspiring confidence.What, shall they seek the lion in his den,And fright him there? And make him tremble there?O, let it not be said! Forage, and runTo meet displeasure farther from the doors,And grapple with him ere he come so nigh.KING JOHN.The legate of the pope hath been with me,And I have made a happy peace with him;And he hath promis’d to dismiss the powersLed by the Dauphin.BASTARD.O inglorious league!Shall we, upon the footing of our land,Send fair-play orders and make compromise,Insinuation, parley, and base truceTo arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy,A cocker’d silken wanton, brave our fields,And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,Mocking the air with colours idly spread,And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms!Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace;Or if he do, let it at least be saidThey saw we had a purpose of defence.KING JOHN.Have thou the ordering of this present time.BASTARD.Away, then, with good courage! Yet, I knowOur party may well meet a prouder foe.[Exeunt.]SCENE II. Near Saint Edmundsbury. The French Camp.Enter, in arms,Louis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigotand soldiers.LOUIS.My Lord Melun, let this be copied out,And keep it safe for our remembrance.Return the precedent to these lords again;That, having our fair order written down,Both they and we, perusing o’er these notes,May know wherefore we took the sacrament,And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.SALISBURY.Upon our sides it never shall be broken.And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swearA voluntary zeal and an unurg’d faithTo your proceedings; yet believe me, prince,I am not glad that such a sore of timeShould seek a plaster by contemn’d revolt,And heal the inveterate canker of one woundBy making many. O, it grieves my soulThat I must draw this metal from my sideTo be a widow-maker! O, and thereWhere honourable rescue and defenceCries out upon the name of Salisbury!But such is the infection of the time,That, for the health and physic of our right,We cannot deal but with the very handOf stern injustice and confused wrong.And is’t not pity, O my grieved friends,That we, the sons and children of this isle,Were born to see so sad an hour as this;Wherein we step after a stranger, marchUpon her gentle bosom, and fill upHer enemies’ ranks? I must withdraw and weepUpon the spot of this enforced cause,To grace the gentry of a land remote,And follow unacquainted colours here.What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove!That Neptune’s arms, who clippeth thee about,Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyselfAnd grapple thee unto a pagan shore,Where these two Christian armies might combineThe blood of malice in a vein of league,And not to spend it so unneighbourly!LOUIS.A noble temper dost thou show in this;And great affections wrestling in thy bosomDoth make an earthquake of nobility.O, what a noble combat hast thou foughtBetween compulsion and a brave respect!Let me wipe off this honourable dewThat silverly doth progress on thy cheeks.My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears,Being an ordinary inundation;But this effusion of such manly drops,This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz’dThan had I seen the vaulty top of heavenFigur’d quite o’er with burning meteors.Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,And with a great heart heave away this storm.Commend these waters to those baby eyesThat never saw the giant world enrag’d,Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping.Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deepInto the purse of rich prosperityAs Louis himself.—So, nobles, shall you all,That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.And even there, methinks, an angel spake.EnterPandulph.Look, where the holy legate comes apace,To give us warrant from the hand of heaven,And on our actions set the name of rightWith holy breath.PANDULPH.Hail, noble prince of France!The next is this: King John hath reconcil’dHimself to Rome; his spirit is come in,That so stood out against the holy church,The great metropolis and see of Rome.Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up,And tame the savage spirit of wild war,That, like a lion foster’d up at hand,It may lie gently at the foot of peaceAnd be no further harmful than in show.LOUIS.Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back.I am too high-born to be propertied,To be a secondary at control,Or useful serving-man and instrumentTo any sovereign state throughout the world.Your breath first kindled the dead coal of warsBetween this chastis’d kingdom and myself,And brought in matter that should feed this fire;And now ’tis far too huge to be blown outWith that same weak wind which enkindled it.You taught me how to know the face of right,Acquainted me with interest to this land,Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;And come ye now to tell me John hath madeHis peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;And, now it is half-conquer’d, must I backBecause that John hath made his peace with Rome?Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath Rome borne,What men provided, what munition sent,To underprop this action? Is’t not IThat undergo this charge? Who else but I,And such as to my claim are liable,Sweat in this business and maintain this war?Have I not heard these islanders shout outVive le Roi!as I have bank’d their towns?Have I not here the best cards for the gameTo win this easy match play’d for a crown?And shall I now give o’er the yielded set?No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.PANDULPH.You look but on the outside of this work.LOUIS.Outside or inside, I will not returnTill my attempt so much be glorifiedAs to my ample hope was promisedBefore I drew this gallant head of war,And cull’d these fiery spirits from the world,To outlook conquest and to win renownEven in the jaws of danger and of death.[Trumpet sounds.]What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?Enter theBastard,attended.BASTARD.According to the fair play of the world,Let me have audience; I am sent to speak,My holy lord of Milan, from the KingI come to learn how you have dealt for him;And, as you answer, I do know the scopeAnd warrant limited unto my tongue.PANDULPH.The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite,And will not temporize with my entreaties;He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.BASTARD.By all the blood that ever fury breath’d,The youth says well. Now hear our English king,For thus his royalty doth speak in me:He is prepar’d, and reason too he should.This apish and unmannerly approach,This harness’d masque and unadvised revel,This unhair’d sauciness and boyish troops,The King doth smile at; and is well prepar’dTo whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,From out the circle of his territories.That hand which had the strength, even at your door,To cudgel you and make you take the hatch,To dive like buckets in concealed wells,To crouch in litter of your stable planks,To lie like pawns lock’d up in chests and trunks,To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety outIn vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shakeEven at the crying of your nation’s crow,Thinking this voice an armed Englishman;Shall that victorious hand be feebled hereThat in your chambers gave you chastisement?No! Know the gallant monarch is in armsAnd like an eagle o’er his aery towersTo souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,You bloody Neroes, ripping up the wombOf your dear mother England, blush for shame!For your own ladies and pale-visag’d maidsLike Amazons come tripping after drums,Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,Their needles to lances, and their gentle heartsTo fierce and bloody inclination.LOUIS.There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace;We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well;We hold our time too precious to be spentWith such a brabbler.PANDULPH.Give me leave to speak.BASTARD.No, I will speak.LOUIS.We will attend to neither.Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war,Plead for our interest and our being here.BASTARD.Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;And so shall you, being beaten. Do but startAnd echo with the clamour of thy drum,And even at hand a drum is ready brac’dThat shall reverberate all as loud as thine.Sound but another, and another shall,As loud as thine, rattle the welkin’s earAnd mock the deep-mouth’d thunder. For at hand,Not trusting to this halting legate here,Whom he hath us’d rather for sport than need,Is warlike John; and in his forehead sitsA bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this dayTo feast upon whole thousands of the French.LOUIS.Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.BASTARD.And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.[Exeunt.]SCENE III. The same. The Field of Battle.Alarums. EnterKing JohnandHubert.KING JOHN.How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.HUBERT.Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty?KING JOHN.This fever that hath troubled me so longLies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!Enter aMessenger.MESSENGER.My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge,Desires your majesty to leave the fieldAnd send him word by me which way you go.KING JOHN.Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.MESSENGER.Be of good comfort; for the great supplyThat was expected by the Dauphin hereAre wrack’d three nights ago on Goodwin Sands.This news was brought to Richard but even now.The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.KING JOHN.Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me upAnd will not let me welcome this good news.Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight.Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.[Exeunt.]SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the same.EnterSalisbury, PembrokeandBigot.SALISBURY.I did not think the King so stor’d with friends.PEMBROKE.Up once again; put spirit in the French.If they miscarry, we miscarry too.SALISBURY.That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.PEMBROKE.They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.EnterMelunwounded, and led by Soldiers.MELUN.Lead me to the revolts of England here.SALISBURY.When we were happy we had other names.PEMBROKE.It is the Count Melun.SALISBURY.Wounded to death.MELUN.Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;Unthread the rude eye of rebellionAnd welcome home again discarded faith.Seek out King John and fall before his feet;For if the French be lords of this loud day,He means to recompense the pains you takeBy cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn,And I with him, and many more with me,Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury;Even on that altar where we swore to youDear amity and everlasting love.SALISBURY.May this be possible? May this be true?MELUN.Have I not hideous death within my view,Retaining but a quantity of life,Which bleeds away even as a form of waxResolveth from his figure ’gainst the fire?What in the world should make me now deceive,Since I must lose the use of all deceit?Why should I then be false, since it is trueThat I must die here and live hence by truth?I say again, if Louis do win the day,He is forsworn if e’er those eyes of yoursBehold another day break in the east.But even this night, whose black contagious breathAlready smokes about the burning crestOf the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,Paying the fine of rated treacheryEven with a treacherous fine of all your lives,If Louis by your assistance win the day.Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;The love of him, and this respect besides,For that my grandsire was an Englishman,Awakes my conscience to confess all this.In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me henceFrom forth the noise and rumour of the field,Where I may think the remnant of my thoughtsIn peace, and part this body and my soulWith contemplation and devout desires.SALISBURY.We do believe thee, and beshrew my soulBut I do love the favour and the formOf this most fair occasion, by the whichWe will untread the steps of damned flight,And like a bated and retired flood,Leaving our rankness and irregular course,Stoop low within those bounds we have o’erlook’d,And calmly run on in obedienceEven to our ocean, to our great King John.My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;For I do see the cruel pangs of deathRight in thine eye.—Away, my friends! New flight,And happy newness, that intends old right.[Exeunt, leading offMelun.]SCENE V. The same. The French camp.EnterLouisand his train.LOUIS.The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set,But stay’d, and made the western welkin blush,When the English measure backward their own groundIn faint retire. O, bravely came we off,When with a volley of our needless shot,After such bloody toil, we bid good night,And wound our tott’ring colours clearly up,Last in the field, and almost lords of it!Enter aMessenger.MESSENGER.Where is my prince, the Dauphin?LOUIS.Here. What news?MESSENGER.The Count Melun is slain; the English lordsBy his persuasion are again fall’n off,And your supply, which you have wish’d so long,Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.LOUIS.Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart!I did not think to be so sad tonightAs this hath made me. Who was he that saidKing John did fly an hour or two beforeThe stumbling night did part our weary powers?MESSENGER.Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.LOUIS.Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight.The day shall not be up so soon as I,To try the fair adventure of tomorrow.[Exeunt.]SCENE VI. An open place in the neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey.Enter theBastardandHubert,meeting.HUBERT.Who’s there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot.BASTARD.A friend. What art thou?HUBERT.Of the part of England.BASTARD.Whither dost thou go?HUBERT.What’s that to thee? Why may I not demandOf thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?BASTARD.Hubert, I think.HUBERT.Thou hast a perfect thought.I will, upon all hazards, well believeThou art my friend, that know’st my tongue so well.Who art thou?BASTARD.Who thou wilt. And if thou please,Thou mayst befriend me so much as to thinkI come one way of the Plantagenets.HUBERT.Unkind remembrance! Thou and eyeless nightHave done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me,That any accent breaking from thy tongueShould ’scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.BASTARD.Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad?HUBERT.Why, here walk I in the black brow of night,To find you out.BASTARD.Brief, then; and what’s the news?HUBERT.O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.BASTARD.Show me the very wound of this ill news.I am no woman, I’ll not swoon at it.HUBERT.The King, I fear, is poison’d by a monk.I left him almost speechless, and broke outTo acquaint you with this evil, that you mightThe better arm you to the sudden time,Than if you had at leisure known of this.BASTARD.How did he take it? Who did taste to him?HUBERT.A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain,Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The KingYet speaks, and peradventure may recover.BASTARD.Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?HUBERT.Why, know you not? The lords are all come back,And brought Prince Henry in their company;At whose request the King hath pardon’d them,And they are all about his majesty.BASTARD.Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,And tempt us not to bear above our power!I’ll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,Passing these flats, are taken by the tide;These Lincoln Washes have devoured them;Myself, well mounted, hardly have escap’d.Away, before. Conduct me to the King;I doubt he will be dead or ere I come.[Exeunt.]SCENE VII. The orchard of Swinstead Abbey.EnterPrince Henry, SalisburyandBigot.PRINCE HENRY.It is too late. The life of all his bloodIs 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.EnterPembroke.PEMBROKE.His Highness yet doth speak, and holds beliefThat, being brought into the open air,It would allay the burning qualityOf that fell poison which assaileth him.PRINCE HENRY.Let him be brought into the orchard here.Doth he still rage?[ExitBigot.]PEMBROKE.He is more patientThan when you left him; even now he sung.PRINCE HENRY.O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremesIn their continuance will not feel themselves.Death, having prey’d upon the outward parts,Leaves them invisible, and his siege is nowAgainst the mind, the which he pricks and woundsWith many legions of strange fantasies,Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,Confound themselves. ’Tis strange that death should sing.I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,Who chants a doleful hymn to his own deathAnd from the organ-pipe of frailty singsHis soul and body to their lasting rest.SALISBURY.Be of good comfort, prince; for you are bornTo set a form upon that indigestWhich he hath left so shapeless and so rude.EnterBigotand Attendants, who bring inKing Johnin a chair.KING JOHN.Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-roomIt would not out at windows nor at doors.There is so hot a summer in my bosomThat all my bowels crumble up to dust.I am a scribbled form, drawn with a penUpon a parchment, and against this fireDo I shrink up.PRINCE HENRY.How fares your majesty?KING JOHN.Poison’d, ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off,And none of you will bid the winter comeTo thrust his icy fingers in my maw,Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their courseThrough my burn’d bosom, nor entreat the northTo make his bleak winds kiss my parched lipsAnd 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.PRINCE HENRY.O, that there were some virtue in my tearsThat might relieve you!KING JOHN.The salt in them is hot.Within me is a hell; and there the poisonIs, as a fiend, confin’d to tyrannizeOn unreprievable condemned blood.Enter theBastard.BASTARD.O, I am scalded with my violent motionAnd spleen of speed to see your majesty!KING 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 sailAre 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 clodAnd module of confounded royalty.BASTARD.The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,Where God 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 unwarilyDevoured by the unexpected flood.[TheKingdies.]SALISBURY.You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.My liege! My lord!—But now a king, now thus.PRINCE HENRY.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?BASTARD.Art thou gone so? I do but stay behindTo do the office for thee of revenge,And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres,Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths,And instantly return with me again,To push destruction and perpetual shameOut of the weak door of our fainting land.Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought;The Dauphin rages at our very heels.SALISBURY.It seems you know not, then, so much as we.The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,And brings from him such offers of our peaceAs we with honour and respect may take,With purpose presently to leave this war.BASTARD.He will the rather do it when he seesOurselves well sinewed to our defence.SALISBURY.Nay, ’tis in a manner done already,For many carriages he hath dispatch’dTo the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrelTo the disposing of the cardinal,With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,If you think meet, this afternoon will postTo consummate this business happily.BASTARD.Let it be so. And you, my noble prince,With other princes that may best be spar’d,Shall wait upon your father’s funeral.PRINCE HENRY.At Worcester must his body be interr’d;For so he will’d it.BASTARD.Thither shall it, then,And happily may your sweet self put onThe lineal state and glory of the land!To whom, with all submission, on my knee,I do bequeath my faithful servicesAnd true subjection everlastingly.SALISBURY.And the like tender of our love we make,To rest without a spot for evermore.PRINCE HENRY.I have a kind soul that would give you thanksAnd knows not how to do it but with tears.BASTARD.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 armsAnd we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,If England to itself do rest but true.[Exeunt.]
EnterKing John, Pandulphwith the crown, and Attendants.
KING JOHN.Thus have I yielded up into your handThe circle of my glory.
PANDULPH.[Giving King John the crown.]Take againFrom this my hand, as holding of the pope,Your sovereign greatness and authority.
KING JOHN.Now keep your holy word. Go meet the French,And from his holiness use all your powerTo stop their marches ’fore we are inflam’d.Our discontented counties do revolt;Our people quarrel with obedience,Swearing allegiance and the love of soulTo stranger blood, to foreign royalty.This inundation of mistemper’d humourRests by you only to be qualified.Then pause not; for the present time’s so sickThat present med’cine must be minist’redOr overthrow incurable ensues.
PANDULPH.It was my breath that blew this tempest up,Upon your stubborn usage of the pope;But since you are a gentle convertite,My tongue shall hush again this storm of warAnd make fair weather in your blust’ring land.On this Ascension-day, remember well,Upon your oath of service to the pope,Go I to make the French lay down their arms.
[Exit.]
KING JOHN.Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophetSay that before Ascension-day at noonMy crown I should give off? Even so I have.I did suppose it should be on constraint;But, heaven be thank’d, it is but voluntary.
Enter theBastard.
BASTARD.All Kent hath yielded. Nothing there holds outBut Dover Castle. London hath receiv’d,Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers.Your nobles will not hear you, but are goneTo offer service to your enemy;And wild amazement hurries up and downThe little number of your doubtful friends.
KING JOHN.Would not my lords return to me againAfter they heard young Arthur was alive?
BASTARD.They found him dead and cast into the streets,An empty casket, where the jewel of lifeBy some damn’d hand was robb’d and ta’en away.
KING JOHN.That villain Hubert told me he did live.
BASTARD.So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew.But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad?Be great in act, as you have been in thought;Let not the world see fear and sad distrustGovern the motion of a kingly eye.Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;Threaten the threat’ner, and outface the browOf bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes,That borrow their behaviours from the great,Grow great by your example and put onThe dauntless spirit of resolution.Away, and glister like the god of warWhen he intendeth to become the field.Show boldness and aspiring confidence.What, shall they seek the lion in his den,And fright him there? And make him tremble there?O, let it not be said! Forage, and runTo meet displeasure farther from the doors,And grapple with him ere he come so nigh.
KING JOHN.The legate of the pope hath been with me,And I have made a happy peace with him;And he hath promis’d to dismiss the powersLed by the Dauphin.
BASTARD.O inglorious league!Shall we, upon the footing of our land,Send fair-play orders and make compromise,Insinuation, parley, and base truceTo arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy,A cocker’d silken wanton, brave our fields,And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,Mocking the air with colours idly spread,And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms!Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace;Or if he do, let it at least be saidThey saw we had a purpose of defence.
KING JOHN.Have thou the ordering of this present time.
BASTARD.Away, then, with good courage! Yet, I knowOur party may well meet a prouder foe.
[Exeunt.]
Enter, in arms,Louis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigotand soldiers.
LOUIS.My Lord Melun, let this be copied out,And keep it safe for our remembrance.Return the precedent to these lords again;That, having our fair order written down,Both they and we, perusing o’er these notes,May know wherefore we took the sacrament,And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
SALISBURY.Upon our sides it never shall be broken.And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swearA voluntary zeal and an unurg’d faithTo your proceedings; yet believe me, prince,I am not glad that such a sore of timeShould seek a plaster by contemn’d revolt,And heal the inveterate canker of one woundBy making many. O, it grieves my soulThat I must draw this metal from my sideTo be a widow-maker! O, and thereWhere honourable rescue and defenceCries out upon the name of Salisbury!But such is the infection of the time,That, for the health and physic of our right,We cannot deal but with the very handOf stern injustice and confused wrong.And is’t not pity, O my grieved friends,That we, the sons and children of this isle,Were born to see so sad an hour as this;Wherein we step after a stranger, marchUpon her gentle bosom, and fill upHer enemies’ ranks? I must withdraw and weepUpon the spot of this enforced cause,To grace the gentry of a land remote,And follow unacquainted colours here.What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove!That Neptune’s arms, who clippeth thee about,Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyselfAnd grapple thee unto a pagan shore,Where these two Christian armies might combineThe blood of malice in a vein of league,And not to spend it so unneighbourly!
LOUIS.A noble temper dost thou show in this;And great affections wrestling in thy bosomDoth make an earthquake of nobility.O, what a noble combat hast thou foughtBetween compulsion and a brave respect!Let me wipe off this honourable dewThat silverly doth progress on thy cheeks.My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears,Being an ordinary inundation;But this effusion of such manly drops,This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz’dThan had I seen the vaulty top of heavenFigur’d quite o’er with burning meteors.Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,And with a great heart heave away this storm.Commend these waters to those baby eyesThat never saw the giant world enrag’d,Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping.Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deepInto the purse of rich prosperityAs Louis himself.—So, nobles, shall you all,That knit your sinews to the strength of mine.And even there, methinks, an angel spake.
EnterPandulph.
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,To give us warrant from the hand of heaven,And on our actions set the name of rightWith holy breath.
PANDULPH.Hail, noble prince of France!The next is this: King John hath reconcil’dHimself to Rome; his spirit is come in,That so stood out against the holy church,The great metropolis and see of Rome.Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up,And tame the savage spirit of wild war,That, like a lion foster’d up at hand,It may lie gently at the foot of peaceAnd be no further harmful than in show.
LOUIS.Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back.I am too high-born to be propertied,To be a secondary at control,Or useful serving-man and instrumentTo any sovereign state throughout the world.Your breath first kindled the dead coal of warsBetween this chastis’d kingdom and myself,And brought in matter that should feed this fire;And now ’tis far too huge to be blown outWith that same weak wind which enkindled it.You taught me how to know the face of right,Acquainted me with interest to this land,Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;And come ye now to tell me John hath madeHis peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;And, now it is half-conquer’d, must I backBecause that John hath made his peace with Rome?Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath Rome borne,What men provided, what munition sent,To underprop this action? Is’t not IThat undergo this charge? Who else but I,And such as to my claim are liable,Sweat in this business and maintain this war?Have I not heard these islanders shout outVive le Roi!as I have bank’d their towns?Have I not here the best cards for the gameTo win this easy match play’d for a crown?And shall I now give o’er the yielded set?No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.
PANDULPH.You look but on the outside of this work.
LOUIS.Outside or inside, I will not returnTill my attempt so much be glorifiedAs to my ample hope was promisedBefore I drew this gallant head of war,And cull’d these fiery spirits from the world,To outlook conquest and to win renownEven in the jaws of danger and of death.
[Trumpet sounds.]
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter theBastard,attended.
BASTARD.According to the fair play of the world,Let me have audience; I am sent to speak,My holy lord of Milan, from the KingI come to learn how you have dealt for him;And, as you answer, I do know the scopeAnd warrant limited unto my tongue.
PANDULPH.The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite,And will not temporize with my entreaties;He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.
BASTARD.By all the blood that ever fury breath’d,The youth says well. Now hear our English king,For thus his royalty doth speak in me:He is prepar’d, and reason too he should.This apish and unmannerly approach,This harness’d masque and unadvised revel,This unhair’d sauciness and boyish troops,The King doth smile at; and is well prepar’dTo whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,From out the circle of his territories.That hand which had the strength, even at your door,To cudgel you and make you take the hatch,To dive like buckets in concealed wells,To crouch in litter of your stable planks,To lie like pawns lock’d up in chests and trunks,To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety outIn vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shakeEven at the crying of your nation’s crow,Thinking this voice an armed Englishman;Shall that victorious hand be feebled hereThat in your chambers gave you chastisement?No! Know the gallant monarch is in armsAnd like an eagle o’er his aery towersTo souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,You bloody Neroes, ripping up the wombOf your dear mother England, blush for shame!For your own ladies and pale-visag’d maidsLike Amazons come tripping after drums,Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,Their needles to lances, and their gentle heartsTo fierce and bloody inclination.
LOUIS.There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace;We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well;We hold our time too precious to be spentWith such a brabbler.
PANDULPH.Give me leave to speak.
BASTARD.No, I will speak.
LOUIS.We will attend to neither.Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war,Plead for our interest and our being here.
BASTARD.Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;And so shall you, being beaten. Do but startAnd echo with the clamour of thy drum,And even at hand a drum is ready brac’dThat shall reverberate all as loud as thine.Sound but another, and another shall,As loud as thine, rattle the welkin’s earAnd mock the deep-mouth’d thunder. For at hand,Not trusting to this halting legate here,Whom he hath us’d rather for sport than need,Is warlike John; and in his forehead sitsA bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this dayTo feast upon whole thousands of the French.
LOUIS.Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
BASTARD.And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.
[Exeunt.]
Alarums. EnterKing JohnandHubert.
KING JOHN.How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.
HUBERT.Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty?
KING JOHN.This fever that hath troubled me so longLies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!
Enter aMessenger.
MESSENGER.My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge,Desires your majesty to leave the fieldAnd send him word by me which way you go.
KING JOHN.Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.
MESSENGER.Be of good comfort; for the great supplyThat was expected by the Dauphin hereAre wrack’d three nights ago on Goodwin Sands.This news was brought to Richard but even now.The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
KING JOHN.Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me upAnd will not let me welcome this good news.Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight.Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.
[Exeunt.]
EnterSalisbury, PembrokeandBigot.
SALISBURY.I did not think the King so stor’d with friends.
PEMBROKE.Up once again; put spirit in the French.If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
SALISBURY.That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
PEMBROKE.They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.
EnterMelunwounded, and led by Soldiers.
MELUN.Lead me to the revolts of England here.
SALISBURY.When we were happy we had other names.
PEMBROKE.It is the Count Melun.
SALISBURY.Wounded to death.
MELUN.Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;Unthread the rude eye of rebellionAnd welcome home again discarded faith.Seek out King John and fall before his feet;For if the French be lords of this loud day,He means to recompense the pains you takeBy cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn,And I with him, and many more with me,Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury;Even on that altar where we swore to youDear amity and everlasting love.
SALISBURY.May this be possible? May this be true?
MELUN.Have I not hideous death within my view,Retaining but a quantity of life,Which bleeds away even as a form of waxResolveth from his figure ’gainst the fire?What in the world should make me now deceive,Since I must lose the use of all deceit?Why should I then be false, since it is trueThat I must die here and live hence by truth?I say again, if Louis do win the day,He is forsworn if e’er those eyes of yoursBehold another day break in the east.But even this night, whose black contagious breathAlready smokes about the burning crestOf the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,Paying the fine of rated treacheryEven with a treacherous fine of all your lives,If Louis by your assistance win the day.Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;The love of him, and this respect besides,For that my grandsire was an Englishman,Awakes my conscience to confess all this.In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me henceFrom forth the noise and rumour of the field,Where I may think the remnant of my thoughtsIn peace, and part this body and my soulWith contemplation and devout desires.
SALISBURY.We do believe thee, and beshrew my soulBut I do love the favour and the formOf this most fair occasion, by the whichWe will untread the steps of damned flight,And like a bated and retired flood,Leaving our rankness and irregular course,Stoop low within those bounds we have o’erlook’d,And calmly run on in obedienceEven to our ocean, to our great King John.My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;For I do see the cruel pangs of deathRight in thine eye.—Away, my friends! New flight,And happy newness, that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading offMelun.]
EnterLouisand his train.
LOUIS.The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set,But stay’d, and made the western welkin blush,When the English measure backward their own groundIn faint retire. O, bravely came we off,When with a volley of our needless shot,After such bloody toil, we bid good night,And wound our tott’ring colours clearly up,Last in the field, and almost lords of it!
Enter aMessenger.
MESSENGER.Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
LOUIS.Here. What news?
MESSENGER.The Count Melun is slain; the English lordsBy his persuasion are again fall’n off,And your supply, which you have wish’d so long,Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.
LOUIS.Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart!I did not think to be so sad tonightAs this hath made me. Who was he that saidKing John did fly an hour or two beforeThe stumbling night did part our weary powers?
MESSENGER.Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
LOUIS.Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight.The day shall not be up so soon as I,To try the fair adventure of tomorrow.
[Exeunt.]
Enter theBastardandHubert,meeting.
HUBERT.Who’s there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot.
BASTARD.A friend. What art thou?
HUBERT.Of the part of England.
BASTARD.Whither dost thou go?
HUBERT.What’s that to thee? Why may I not demandOf thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
BASTARD.Hubert, I think.
HUBERT.Thou hast a perfect thought.I will, upon all hazards, well believeThou art my friend, that know’st my tongue so well.Who art thou?
BASTARD.Who thou wilt. And if thou please,Thou mayst befriend me so much as to thinkI come one way of the Plantagenets.
HUBERT.Unkind remembrance! Thou and eyeless nightHave done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me,That any accent breaking from thy tongueShould ’scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
BASTARD.Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad?
HUBERT.Why, here walk I in the black brow of night,To find you out.
BASTARD.Brief, then; and what’s the news?
HUBERT.O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
BASTARD.Show me the very wound of this ill news.I am no woman, I’ll not swoon at it.
HUBERT.The King, I fear, is poison’d by a monk.I left him almost speechless, and broke outTo acquaint you with this evil, that you mightThe better arm you to the sudden time,Than if you had at leisure known of this.
BASTARD.How did he take it? Who did taste to him?
HUBERT.A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain,Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The KingYet speaks, and peradventure may recover.
BASTARD.Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?
HUBERT.Why, know you not? The lords are all come back,And brought Prince Henry in their company;At whose request the King hath pardon’d them,And they are all about his majesty.
BASTARD.Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,And tempt us not to bear above our power!I’ll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,Passing these flats, are taken by the tide;These Lincoln Washes have devoured them;Myself, well mounted, hardly have escap’d.Away, before. Conduct me to the King;I doubt he will be dead or ere I come.
[Exeunt.]
EnterPrince Henry, SalisburyandBigot.
PRINCE HENRY.It is too late. The life of all his bloodIs 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.
EnterPembroke.
PEMBROKE.His Highness yet doth speak, and holds beliefThat, being brought into the open air,It would allay the burning qualityOf that fell poison which assaileth him.
PRINCE HENRY.Let him be brought into the orchard here.Doth he still rage?
[ExitBigot.]
PEMBROKE.He is more patientThan when you left him; even now he sung.
PRINCE HENRY.O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremesIn their continuance will not feel themselves.Death, having prey’d upon the outward parts,Leaves them invisible, and his siege is nowAgainst the mind, the which he pricks and woundsWith many legions of strange fantasies,Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,Confound themselves. ’Tis strange that death should sing.I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,Who chants a doleful hymn to his own deathAnd from the organ-pipe of frailty singsHis soul and body to their lasting rest.
SALISBURY.Be of good comfort, prince; for you are bornTo set a form upon that indigestWhich he hath left so shapeless and so rude.
EnterBigotand Attendants, who bring inKing Johnin a chair.
KING JOHN.Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-roomIt would not out at windows nor at doors.There is so hot a summer in my bosomThat all my bowels crumble up to dust.I am a scribbled form, drawn with a penUpon a parchment, and against this fireDo I shrink up.
PRINCE HENRY.How fares your majesty?
KING JOHN.Poison’d, ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off,And none of you will bid the winter comeTo thrust his icy fingers in my maw,Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their courseThrough my burn’d bosom, nor entreat the northTo make his bleak winds kiss my parched lipsAnd 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.
PRINCE HENRY.O, that there were some virtue in my tearsThat might relieve you!
KING JOHN.The salt in them is hot.Within me is a hell; and there the poisonIs, as a fiend, confin’d to tyrannizeOn unreprievable condemned blood.
Enter theBastard.
BASTARD.O, I am scalded with my violent motionAnd spleen of speed to see your majesty!
KING 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 sailAre 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 clodAnd module of confounded royalty.
BASTARD.The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,Where God 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 unwarilyDevoured by the unexpected flood.
[TheKingdies.]
SALISBURY.You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.My liege! My lord!—But now a king, now thus.
PRINCE HENRY.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?
BASTARD.Art thou gone so? I do but stay behindTo do the office for thee of revenge,And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres,Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths,And instantly return with me again,To push destruction and perpetual shameOut of the weak door of our fainting land.Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought;The Dauphin rages at our very heels.
SALISBURY.It seems you know not, then, so much as we.The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,And brings from him such offers of our peaceAs we with honour and respect may take,With purpose presently to leave this war.
BASTARD.He will the rather do it when he seesOurselves well sinewed to our defence.
SALISBURY.Nay, ’tis in a manner done already,For many carriages he hath dispatch’dTo the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrelTo the disposing of the cardinal,With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,If you think meet, this afternoon will postTo consummate this business happily.
BASTARD.Let it be so. And you, my noble prince,With other princes that may best be spar’d,Shall wait upon your father’s funeral.
PRINCE HENRY.At Worcester must his body be interr’d;For so he will’d it.
BASTARD.Thither shall it, then,And happily may your sweet self put onThe lineal state and glory of the land!To whom, with all submission, on my knee,I do bequeath my faithful servicesAnd true subjection everlastingly.
SALISBURY.And the like tender of our love we make,To rest without a spot for evermore.
PRINCE HENRY.I have a kind soul that would give you thanksAnd knows not how to do it but with tears.
BASTARD.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 armsAnd we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,If England to itself do rest but true.
[Exeunt.]