Shakespeare's First Folio (part 4 of 12)

Shakespeare's First Folio (part 4 of 12)

Shep. Heauy matters, heauy matters: but looke thee heere boy. Now blesse thy selfe: thou met'st with things dying, I with things new borne. Here's a sight for thee: Looke thee, a bearing-cloath for a Squires childe: looke thee heere, take vp, take vp (Boy:) open't: so, let's see, it was told me I should be rich by the Fairies. This is some Changeling: open't: what's within, boy? Clo. You're a mad olde man: If the sinnes of your youth are forgiuen you, you're well to liue. Golde, all Gold

Shep. This is Faiery Gold boy, and 'twill proue so: vp with't, keepe it close: home, home, the next way. We are luckie (boy) and to bee so still requires nothing but secrecie. Let my sheepe go: Come (good boy) the next way home

Clo. Go you the next way with your Findings, Ile go see if the Beare bee gone from the Gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they are neuer curst but when they are hungry: if there be any of him left, Ile bury it

Shep. That's a good deed: if thou mayest discerne by that which is left of him, what he is, fetch me to th' sight of him

Clowne. 'Marry will I: and you shall helpe to put him i'th' ground

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and wee'l do good deeds on't.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Time, the Chorus.

Time. I that please some, try all: both ioy and terror Of good, and bad: that makes, and vnfolds error, Now take vpon me (in the name of Time) To vse my wings: Impute it not a crime To me, or my swift passage, that I slide Ore sixteene yeeres, and leaue the growth vntride Of that wide gap, since it is in my powre To orethrow Law, and in one selfe-borne howre To plant, and orewhelme Custome. Let me passe The same I am, ere ancient'st Order was, Or what is now receiu'd. I witnesse to The times that brought them in, so shall I do To th' freshest things now reigning, and make stale The glistering of this present, as my Tale Now seemes to it: your patience this allowing, I turne my glasse, and giue my Scene such growing As you had slept betweene: Leontes leauing Th' effects of his fond iealousies, so greeuing That he shuts vp himselfe. Imagine me (Gentle Spectators) that I now may be In faire Bohemia, and remember well, I mentioned a sonne o'th' Kings, which Florizell I now name to you: and with speed so pace To speake of Perdita, now growne in grace Equall with wond'ring. What of her insues I list not prophesie: but let Times newes Be knowne when 'tis brought forth. A shepherds daughter And what to her adheres, which followes after, Is th' argument of Time: of this allow, If euer you haue spent time worse, ere now: If neuer, yet that Time himselfe doth say, He wishes earnestly, you neuer may. Enter.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Polixenes, and Camillo.

Pol. I pray thee (good Camillo) be no more importunate: 'tis a sicknesse denying thee any thing: a death to grant this

Cam. It is fifteene yeeres since I saw my Countrey: though I haue (for the most part) bin ayred abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent King (my Master) hath sent for me, to whose feeling sorrowes I might be some allay, or I oreweene to thinke so) which is another spurre to my departure

Pol. As thou lou'st me (Camillo) wipe not out the rest of thy seruices, by leauing me now: the neede I haue of thee, thine owne goodnesse hath made: better not to haue had thee, then thus to want thee, thou hauing made me Businesses, (which none (without thee) can sufficiently manage) must either stay to execute them thy selfe, or take away with thee the very seruices thou hast done: which if I haue not enough considered (as too much I cannot) to bee more thankefull to thee, shall bee my studie, and my profite therein, the heaping friendshippes. Of that fatall Countrey Sicillia, prethee speake no more, whose very naming, punnishes me with the remembrance of that penitent (as thou calst him) and reconciled King my brother, whose losse of his most precious Queene & Children, are euen now to be a-fresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou the Prince Florizell my son? Kings are no lesse vnhappy, their issue, not being gracious, then they are in loosing them, when they haue approued their Vertues

Cam. Sir, it is three dayes since I saw the Prince: what his happier affayres may be, are to me vnknowne: but I haue (missingly) noted, he is of late much retyred from Court, and is lesse frequent to his Princely exercises then formerly he hath appeared

Pol. I haue considered so much (Camillo) and with some care, so farre, that I haue eyes vnder my seruice, which looke vpon his remouednesse: from whom I haue this Intelligence, that he is seldome from the house of a most homely shepheard: a man (they say) that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neighbors, is growne into an vnspeakable estate

Cam. I haue heard (sir) of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note: the report of her is extended more, then can be thought to begin from such a cottage Pol. That's likewise part of my Intelligence: but (I feare) the Angle that pluckes our sonne thither. Thou shalt accompany vs to the place, where we will (not appearing what we are) haue some question with the shepheard; from whose simplicity, I thinke it not vneasie to get the cause of my sonnes resort thether. 'Prethe be my present partner in this busines, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicillia

Cam. I willingly obey your command

Pol. My best Camillo, we must disguise our selues.

Exit

Scena Tertia.

Enter Autolicus singing

When Daffadils begin to peere, With heigh the Doxy ouer the dale, Why then comes in the sweet o'the yeere, For the red blood raigns in y winters pale. The white sheete bleaching on the hedge, With hey the sweet birds, O how they sing: Doth set my pugging tooth an edge, For a quart of Ale is a dish for a King. The Larke, that tirra Lyra chaunts, With heigh, the Thrush and the Iay: Are Summer songs for me and my Aunts While we lye tumbling in the hay. I haue seru'd Prince Florizell, and in my time wore three pile, but now I am out of seruice. But shall I go mourne for that (my deere) the pale Moone shines by night: And when I wander here, and there I then do most go right. If Tinkers may haue leaue to liue, and beare the Sow-skin Bowget, Then my account I well may giue, and in the Stockes auouch-it. My Trafficke is sheetes: when the Kite builds, looke to lesser Linnen. My Father nam'd me Autolicus, who being (as I am) lytter'd vnder Mercurie, was likewise a snapper-vp of vnconsidered trifles: With Dye and drab, I purchas'd this Caparison, and my Reuennew is the silly Cheate. Gallowes, and Knocke, are too powerfull on the Highway. Beating and hanging are terrors to mee: For the life to come, I sleepe out the thought of it. A prize, a prize. Enter Clowne.

Clo. Let me see, euery Leauen-weather toddes, euery tod yeeldes pound and odde shilling: fifteene hundred shorne, what comes the wooll too? Aut. If the sprindge hold, the Cocke's mine

Clo. I cannot do't without Compters. Let mee see, what am I to buy for our Sheepe-shearing-Feast? Three pound of Sugar, fiue pound of Currence, Rice: What will this sister of mine do with Rice? But my father hath made her Mistris of the Feast, and she layes it on. Shee hath made-me four and twenty Nose-gayes for the shearers (three-man song-men, all, and very good ones) but they are most of them Meanes and Bases; but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings Psalmes to horne-pipes. I must haue Saffron to colour the Warden Pies, Mace: Dates, none: that's out of my note: Nutmegges, seuen; a Race or two of Ginger, but that I may begge: Foure pound of Prewyns, and as many of Reysons o'th Sun

Aut. Oh, that euer I was borne

Clo. I'th' name of me

Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these ragges: and then, death, death

Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather then haue these off

Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee, more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie ones and millions

Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come to a great matter

Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon me

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man? Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman

Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe thee. Come, lend me thy hand

Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh

Clo. Alas poore soule

Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my shoulder-blade is out

Clo. How now? Canst stand? Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done me a charitable office

Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for thee

Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes my heart

Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd you? Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the Court

Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt out of the Court: they cherish it to make it stay there; and yet it will no more but abide

Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well, he hath bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer (a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some call him Autolicus

Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings

Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that put me into this apparrell

Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue runne

Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him

Clo. How do you now? Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand, and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly towards my Kinsmans

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way? Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir

Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our sheepe-shearing. Enter.

Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold, and my name put in the booke of Vertue. Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way, And merrily hent the Stile-a: A merry heart goes all the day, Your sad tyres in a Mile-a. Enter.

Scena Quarta.

Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo, Mopsa, Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.

Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing, Is as a meeting of the petty Gods, And you the Queene on't

Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord, To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me: (Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide) Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders Digest with a Custome, I should blush To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke, To shew my selfe a glasse

Flo. I blesse the time When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse Thy Fathers ground

Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause: To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble To thinke your Father, by some accident Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates, How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble, Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold The sternnesse of his presence? Flo. Apprehend Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues (Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter, Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine, As I seeme now. Their transformations, Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer, Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts Burne hotter then my Faith

Perd. O but Sir, Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King: One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose, Or I my life

Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita, With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire) Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry (Gentle) Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing That you behold the while. Your guests are comming: Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptiall, which We two haue sworne shall come

Perd. O Lady Fortune, Stand you auspicious

Flo. See, your Guests approach, Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth

Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke, Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all, Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle: On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it She would to each one sip. You are retyred, As if you were a feasted one: and not The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne. Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on, And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing, As your good flocke shall prosper

Perd. Sir, welcome: It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir. Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs, For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long: Grace, and Remembrance be to you both, And welcome to our Shearing

Pol. Shepherdesse, (A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages With flowres of Winter

Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient, Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors, (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not To get slips of them

Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden) Do you neglect them

Perd. For I haue heard it said, There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares With great creating-Nature

Pol. Say there be: Yet Nature is made better by no meane, But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art, (Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke, And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but The Art it selfe, is Nature

Perd. So it is

Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors, And do not call them bastards

Perd. Ile not put The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them: No more then were I painted, I would wish This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you: Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum, The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun, And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome

Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke, And onely liue by gazing

Perd. Out alas: You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend, I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might Become your time of day: and yours, and yours, That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina, For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils, That come before the Swallow dares, and take The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim, But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses, That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds, (The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke, To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend, To strew him o're, and ore

Flo. What? like a Coarse? Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on: Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried, But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours, Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine Do's change my disposition: Flo. What you do, Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet) I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing, I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes, Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres, To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do Nothing but that: moue still, still so: And owne no other Function. Each your doing, (So singular, in each particular) Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds, That all your Actes, are Queenes

Perd. O Doricles, Your praises are too large: but that your youth And the true blood which peepes fairely through't, Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles) You woo'd me the false way

Flo. I thinke you haue As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray, Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire That neuer meane to part

Perd. Ile sweare for 'em

Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes But smackes of something greater then her selfe, Too Noble for this place

Cam. He tels her something That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is The Queene of Curds and Creame

Clo. Come on: strike vp

Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick to mend her kissing with

Mop. Now in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners, Come, strike vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.

Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this, Which dances with your daughter? Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it: He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter, I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine, I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose Who loues another best

Pol. She dances featly

Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it That should be silent: If yong Doricles Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreames of. Enter Seruant.

Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to his Tunes

Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in: I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and sung lamentably

Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes: No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie (which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no harme good man

Pol. This is a braue fellow

Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares? Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow; Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse: Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't

Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing

Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words in's tunes

Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.) Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke. Enter Autolicus singing.

Lawne as white as driuen Snow, Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow, Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses, Maskes for faces, and for noses: Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber, Perfume for a Ladies Chamber: Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers For my Lads, to giue their deers: Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele. What Maids lacke from head to heele: Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy, Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy

Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues

Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they come not too late now

Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there be lyars

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him againe

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces? Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed? Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more

Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace, and a paire of sweet Gloues

Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the way, and lost all my money

Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore it behooues men to be wary

Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels of charge

Clo. What hast heere? Ballads? Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a life, for then we are sure they are true

Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and Toads carbonado'd

Mop. Is it true, thinke you? Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old

Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer

Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter, and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present. Why should I carry lyes abroad? Mop. 'Pray you now buy it

Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads: Wee'l buy the other things anon

Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman, and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very pittifull, and as true

Dor. Is it true too, thinke you

Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more then my packe will hold

Clo. Lay it by too; another

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one

Mop. Let's haue some merry ones

Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you

Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou shalt heare, 'tis in three parts

Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe

Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation: Haue at it with you:

Song

Get you hence, for I must goe Aut. Where it fits not you to know

Dor. Whether? Mop. O whether? Dor. Whether? Mop. It becomes thy oath full well, Thou to me thy secrets tell

Dor: Me too: Let me go thether: Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill, Dor: If to either thou dost ill, Aut: Neither

Dor: What neither? Aut: Neither: Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be, Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee. Then whether goest? Say whether? Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow me girles

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.

Song.

Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape? My dainty Ducke, my deere-a? Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a. Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler, That doth vtter all mens ware-a.

Exit

Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds, three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers, and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey of Gambols, because they are not in't: but they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough for some, that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully

Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie you

Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see these foure-threes of Heardsmen

Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,) hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire

Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now

Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.

Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.

Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter: Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them, He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard) Your heart is full of something, that do's take Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong, And handed loue, as you do; I was wont To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it To her acceptance: you haue let him go, And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited For a reply at least, if you make a care Of happie holding her

Flo. Old Sir, I know She prizes not such trifles as these are: The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already, But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme) Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand, As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it, Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore

Pol. What followes this? How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out, But to your protestation: Let me heare What you professe

Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't

Pol. And this my neighbour too? Flo. And he, and more Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all; That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge More then was euer mans, I would not prize them Without her Loue; for her, employ them all, Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice, Or to their owne perdition

Pol. Fairely offer'd

Cam. This shewes a sound affection

Shep. But my daughter, Say you the like to him

Per. I cannot speake So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out The puritie of his

Shep. Take hands, a bargaine; And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't: I giue my daughter to him, and will make Her Portion, equall his

Flo. O, that must bee I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead, I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet, Enough then for your wonder: but come-on, Contract vs fore these Witnesses

Shep. Come, your hand: And daughter, yours

Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you, Haue you a Father? Flo. I haue: but what of him? Pol. Knowes he of this? Flo. He neither do's, nor shall

Pol. Me-thinkes a Father, Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more Is not your Father growne incapeable Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare? Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate? Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing But what he did, being childish? Flo. No good Sir: He has his health, and ampler strength indeede Then most haue of his age

Pol. By my white beard, You offer him (if this be so) a wrong Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile In such a businesse

Flo. I yeeld all this; But for some other reasons (my graue Sir) Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My Father of this businesse

Pol. Let him know't

Flo. He shall not

Pol. Prethee let him

Flo. No, he must not

Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue At knowing of thy choice

Flo. Come, come, he must not: Marke our Contract

Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir) Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire, That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor, I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know The royall Foole thou coap'st with

Shep. Oh my heart

Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy) If I may euer know thou dost but sigh, That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession, Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin, Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words) Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time (Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment, Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too, That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein) Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou These rurall Latches, to his entrance open, Or hope his body more, with thy embraces, I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee As thou art tender to't. Enter.

Perd. Euen heere vndone: I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice I was about to speake, and tell him plainely, The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court, Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone? I told you what would come of this: Beseech you Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther, But milke my Ewes, and weepe

Cam. Why how now Father, Speake ere thou dyest

Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke, Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir, You haue vndone a man of fourescore three, That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea, To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de, To lye close by his honest bones; but now Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch, That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone: If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd To die when I desire. Enter.

Flo. Why looke you so vpon me? I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid, But nothing altred: What I was, I am: More straining on, for plucking backe; not following My leash vnwillingly

Cam. Gracious my Lord, You know my Fathers temper: at this time He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare; Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle Come not before him

Flo. I not purpose it: I thinke Camillo

Cam. Euen he, my Lord

Per. How often haue I told you 'twould be thus? How often said my dignity would last But till 'twer knowne? Flo. It cannot faile, but by The violation of my faith, and then Let Nature crush the sides o'th earth together, And marre the seeds within. Lift vp thy lookes: From my succession wipe me (Father) I Am heyre to my affection

Cam. Be aduis'd

Flo. I am: and by my fancie, if my Reason Will thereto be obedient: I haue reason: If not, my sences better pleas'd with madnesse, Do bid it welcome

Cam. This is desperate (sir.) Flo. So call it: but it do's fulfill my vow: I needs must thinke it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pompe that may Be thereat gleaned: for all the Sun sees, or The close earth wombes, or the profound seas, hides In vnknowne fadomes, will I breake my oath To this my faire belou'd: Therefore, I pray you, As you haue euer bin my Fathers honour'd friend, When he shall misse me, as (in faith I meane not To see him any more) cast your good counsailes Vpon his passion: Let my selfe, and Fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliuer, I am put to Sea With her, who heere I cannot hold on shore: And most opportune to her neede, I haue A Vessell rides fast by, but not prepar'd For this designe. What course I meane to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concerne me the reporting

Cam. O my Lord, I would your spirit were easier for aduice, Or stronger for your neede

Flo. Hearke Perdita, Ile heare you by and by

Cam. Hee's irremoueable, Resolu'd for flight: Now were I happy if His going, I could frame to serue my turne, Saue him from danger, do him loue and honor, Purchase the sight againe of deere Sicillia, And that vnhappy King, my Master, whom I so much thirst to see

Flo. Now good Camillo, I am so fraught with curious businesse, that I leaue out ceremony

Cam. Sir, I thinke You haue heard of my poore seruices, i'th loue That I haue borne your Father? Flo. Very nobly Haue you deseru'd: It is my Fathers Musicke To speake your deeds: not little of his care To haue them recompenc'd, as thought on

Cam. Well (my Lord) If you may please to thinke I loue the King, And through him, what's neerest to him, which is Your gracious selfe; embrace but my direction, If your more ponderous and setled proiect May suffer alteration. On mine honor, Ile point you where you shall haue such receiuing As shall become your Highnesse, where you may Enioy your Mistris; from the whom, I see There's no disiunction to be made, but by (As heauens forefend) your ruine: Marry her, And with my best endeuours, in your absence, Your discontenting Father, striue to qualifie And bring him vp to liking

Flo. How Camillo May this (almost a miracle) be done? That I may call thee something more then man, And after that trust to thee

Cam. Haue you thought on A place whereto you'l go? Flo. Not any yet: But as th' vnthought-on accident is guiltie To what we wildely do, so we professe Our selues to be the slaues of chance, and flyes Of euery winde that blowes

Cam. Then list to me: This followes, if you will not change your purpose But vndergo this flight: make for Sicillia, And there present your selfe, and your fayre Princesse, (For so I see she must be) 'fore Leontes; She shall be habited, as it becomes The partner of your Bed. Me thinkes I see Leontes opening his free Armes, and weeping His Welcomes forth: asks thee there Sonne forgiuenesse, As 'twere i'th' Fathers person: kisses the hands Of your fresh Princesse; ore and ore diuides him, 'Twixt his vnkindnesse, and his Kindnesse: th' one He chides to Hell, and bids the other grow Faster then Thought, or Time

Flo. Worthy Camillo, What colour for my Visitation, shall I Hold vp before him? Cam. Sent by the King your Father To greet him, and to giue him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you (as from your Father) shall deliuer, Things knowne betwixt vs three, Ile write you downe, The which shall point you forth at euery sitting What you must say: that he shall not perceiue, But that you haue your Fathers Bosome there, And speake his very Heart

Flo. I am bound to you: There is some sappe in this

Cam. A Course more promising, Then a wild dedication of your selues To vnpath'd Waters, vndream'd Shores; most certaine, To Miseries enough: no hope to helpe you, But as you shake off one, to take another: Nothing so certaine, as your Anchors, who Doe their best office, if they can but stay you, Where you'le be loth to be: besides you know, Prosperitie's the very bond of Loue, Whose fresh complexion, and whose heart together, Affliction alters

Perd. One of these is true: I thinke Affliction may subdue the Cheeke, But not take-in the Mind

Cam. Yea? say you so? There shall not, at your Fathers House, these seuen yeeres Be borne another such

Flo. My good Camillo, She's as forward, of her Breeding, as She is i'th' reare' our Birth

Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pitty She lacks Instructions, for she seemes a Mistresse To most that teach

Perd. Your pardon Sir, for this, Ile blush you Thanks

Flo. My prettiest Perdita. But O, the Thornes we stand vpon: (Camillo) Preseruer of my Father, now of me, The Medicine of our House: how shall we doe? We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's Sonne, Nor shall appeare in Sicilia

Cam. My Lord, Feare none of this: I thinke you know my fortunes Doe all lye there: it shall be so my care, To haue you royally appointed, as if The Scene you play, were mine. For instance Sir, That you may know you shall not want: one word. Enter Autolicus.

Aut. Ha, ha, what a Foole Honestie is? and Trust (his sworne brother) a very simple Gentleman. I haue sold all my Tromperie: not a counterfeit Stone, not a Ribbon, Glasse, Pomander, Browch, Table-booke, Ballad, Knife, Tape, Gloue, Shooe-tye, Bracelet, Horne-Ring, to keepe my Pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first, as if my Trinkets had beene hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which meanes, I saw whose Purse was best in Picture; and what I saw, to my good vse, I remembred. My Clowne (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in loue with the Wenches Song, that hee would not stirre his Petty-toes, till he had both Tune and Words, which so drew the rest of the Heard to me, that all their other Sences stucke in Eares: you might haue pinch'd a Placket, it was sencelesse; 'twas nothing to gueld a Cod-peece of a Purse: I would haue fill'd Keyes of that hung in Chaynes: no hearing, no feeling, but my Sirs Song, and admiring the Nothing of it. So that in this time of Lethargie, I pickd and cut most of their Festiuall Purses: And had not the old-man come in with a Whoo-bub against his Daughter, and the Kings Sonne, and scar'd my Chowghes from the Chaffe, I had not left a Purse aliue in the whole Army

Cam. Nay, but my Letters by this meanes being there So soone as you arriue, shall cleare that doubt

Flo. And those that you'le procure from King Leontes? Cam. Shall satisfie your Father

Perd. Happy be you: All that you speake, shewes faire

Cam. Who haue we here? Wee'le make an Instrument of this: omit Nothing may giue vs aide

Aut. If they haue ouer-heard me now: why hanging

Cam. How now (good Fellow) Why shak'st thou so? Feare not (man) Here's no harme intended to thee

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir

Cam. Why, be so still: here's no body will steale that from thee: yet for the out-side of thy pouertie, we must make an exchange; therefore dis-case thee instantly (thou must thinke there's a necessitie in't) and change Garments with this Gentleman: Though the penny-worth (on his side) be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot

Aut. I am a poore Fellow, Sir: (I know ye well enough.) Cam. Nay prethee dispatch: the Gentleman is halfe fled already

Aut. Are you in earnest, Sir? (I smell the trick on't.) Flo. Dispatch, I prethee

Aut. Indeed I haue had Earnest, but I cannot with conscience take it

Cam. Vnbuckle, vnbuckle. Fortunate Mistresse (let my prophecie Come home to ye:) you must retire your selfe Into some Couert; take your sweet-hearts Hat And pluck it ore your Browes, muffle your face, Dis-mantle you, and (as you can) disliken The truth of your owne seeming, that you may (For I doe feare eyes ouer) to Ship-boord Get vndescry'd

Perd. I see the Play so lyes, That I must beare a part

Cam. No remedie: Haue you done there? Flo. Should I now meet my Father, He would not call me Sonne

Cam. Nay, you shall haue no Hat: Come Lady, come: Farewell (my friend.) Aut. Adieu, Sir

Flo. O Perdita: what haue we twaine forgot? 'Pray you a word

Cam. What I doe next, shall be to tell the King Of this escape, and whither they are bound; Wherein, my hope is, I shall so preuaile, To force him after: in whose company I shall re-view Sicilia; for whose sight, I haue a Womans Longing

Flo. Fortune speed vs: Thus we set on (Camillo) to th' Sea-side

Cam. The swifter speed, the better. Enter.

Aut. I vnderstand the businesse, I heare it: to haue an open eare, a quick eye, and a nimble hand, is necessary for a Cut-purse; a good Nose is requisite also, to smell out worke for th' other Sences. I see this is the time that the vniust man doth thriue. What an exchange had this been, without boot? What a boot is here, with this exchange? Sure the Gods doe this yeere conniue at vs, and we may doe any thing extempore. The Prince himselfe is about a peece of Iniquitie (stealing away from his Father, with his Clog at his heeles:) if I thought it were a peece of honestie to acquaint the King withall, I would not do't: I hold it the more knauerie to conceale it; and therein am I constant to my Profession. Enter Clowne and Shepheard.

Aside, aside, here is more matter for a hot braine: Euery Lanes end, euery Shop, Church, Session, Hanging, yeelds a carefull man worke

Clowne. See, see: what a man you are now? there is no other way, but to tell the King she's a Changeling, and none of your flesh and blood

Shep. Nay, but heare me

Clow. Nay; but heare me

Shep. Goe too then

Clow. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood ha's not offended the King, and so your flesh and blood is not to be punish'd by him. Shew those things you found about her (those secret things, all but what she ha's with her:) This being done, let the Law goe whistle: I warrant you

Shep. I will tell the King all, euery word, yea, and his Sonnes prancks too; who, I may say, is no honest man, neither to his Father, nor to me, to goe about to make me the Kings Brother in Law

Clow. Indeed Brother in Law was the farthest off you could haue beene to him, and then your Blood had beene the dearer, by I know how much an ounce

Aut. Very wisely (Puppies.) Shep. Well: let vs to the King: there is that in this Farthell, will make him scratch his Beard

Aut. I know not what impediment this Complaint may be to the flight of my Master

Clo. 'Pray heartily he be at' Pallace

Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance: Let me pocket vp my Pedlers excrement. How now (Rustiques) whither are you bound? Shep. To th' Pallace (and it like your Worship.) Aut. Your Affaires there? what? with whom? the Condition of that Farthell? the place of your dwelling? your names? your ages? of what hauing? breeding, and any thing that is fitting to be knowne, discouer? Clo. We are but plaine fellowes, Sir

Aut. A Lye; you are rough, and hayrie: Let me haue no lying; it becomes none but Trades-men, and they often giue vs (Souldiers) the Lye, but wee pay them for it with stamped Coyne, not stabbing Steele, therefore they doe not giue vs the Lye

Clo. Your Worship had like to haue giuen vs one, if you had not taken your selfe with the manner

Shep. Are you a Courtier, and't like you Sir? Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a Courtier. Seest thou not the ayre of the Court, in these enfoldings? Hath not my gate in it, the measure of the Court? Receiues not thy Nose Court-Odour from me? Reflect I not on thy Basenesse, Court-Contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, at toaze from thee thy Businesse, I am therefore no Courtier? I am Courtier Capape; and one that will eyther push-on, or pluck-back, thy Businesse there: whereupon I command thee to open thy Affaire

Shep. My Businesse, Sir, is to the King

Aut. What Aduocate ha'st thou to him? Shep. I know not (and't like you.) Clo. Aduocate's the Court-word for a Pheazant: say you haue none

Shep. None, Sir: I haue no Pheazant Cock, nor Hen

Aut. How blessed are we, that are not simple men? Yet Nature might haue made me as these are, Therefore I will not disdaine

Clo. This cannot be but a great Courtier

Shep. His Garments are rich, but he weares them not handsomely

Clo. He seemes to be the more Noble, in being fantasticall: A great man, Ile warrant; I know by the picking on's Teeth

Aut. The Farthell there? What's i'th' Farthell? Wherefore that Box? Shep. Sir, there lyes such Secrets in this Farthell and Box, which none must know but the King, and which hee shall know within this houre, if I may come to th' speech of him

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour

Shep. Why Sir? Aut. The King is not at the Pallace, he is gone aboord a new Ship, to purge Melancholy, and ayre himselfe: for if thou bee'st capable of things serious, thou must know the King is full of griefe

Shep. So 'tis said (Sir:) about his Sonne, that should haue marryed a Shepheards Daughter

Aut. If that Shepheard be not in hand-fast, let him flye; the Curses he shall haue, the Tortures he shall feele, will breake the back of Man, the heart of Monster

Clo. Thinke you so, Sir? Aut. Not hee alone shall suffer what Wit can make heauie, and Vengeance bitter; but those that are Iermaine to him (though remou'd fiftie times) shall all come vnder the Hang-man: which, though it be great pitty, yet it is necessarie. An old Sheepe-whistling Rogue, a Ram-tender, to offer to haue his Daughter come into grace? Some say hee shall be ston'd: but that death is too soft for him (say I:) Draw our Throne into a Sheep-Coat? all deaths are too few, the sharpest too easie

Clo. Ha's the old-man ere a Sonne Sir (doe you heare) and't like you, Sir? Aut. Hee ha's a Sonne: who shall be flayd aliue, then 'noynted ouer with Honey, set on the head of a Waspes Nest, then stand till he be three quarters and a dram dead: then recouer'd againe with Aquavite, or some other hot Infusion: then, raw as he is (and in the hotest day Prognostication proclaymes) shall he be set against a Brick-wall, (the Sunne looking with a South-ward eye vpon him; where hee is to behold him, with Flyes blown to death.) But what talke we of these Traitorly-Rascals, whose miseries are to be smil'd at, their offences being so capitall? Tell me (for you seeme to be honest plaine men) what you haue to the King: being something gently consider'd, Ile bring you where he is aboord, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfes; and if it be in man, besides the King, to effect your Suites, here is man shall doe it

Clow. He seemes to be of great authoritie: close with him, giue him Gold; and though Authoritie be a stubborne Beare, yet hee is oft led by the Nose with Gold: shew the in-side of your Purse to the out-side of his hand, and no more adoe. Remember ston'd, and flay'd aliue

Shep. And't please you (Sir) to vndertake the Businesse for vs, here is that Gold I haue: Ile make it as much more, and leaue this young man in pawne, till I bring it you

Aut. After I haue done what I promised? Shep. I Sir

Aut. Well, giue me the Moitie: Are you a partie in this Businesse? Clow. In some sort, Sir: but though my case be a pittifull one, I hope I shall not be flayd out of it

Aut. Oh, that's the case of the Shepheards Sonne: hang him, hee'le be made an example

Clow. Comfort, good comfort: We must to the King, and shew our strange sights: he must know 'tis none of your Daughter, nor my Sister: wee are gone else. Sir, I will giue you as much as this old man do's, when the Businesse is performed, and remaine (as he sayes) your pawne till it be brought you

Aut. I will trust you. Walke before toward the Seaside, goe on the right hand, I will but looke vpon the Hedge, and follow you

Clow. We are bless'd, in this man: as I may say, euen bless'd

Shep. Let's before, as he bids vs: he was prouided to doe vs good

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer mee: shee drops Booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion: (Gold, and a means to doe the Prince my Master good; which, who knowes how that may turne backe to my aduancement?) I will bring these two Moales, these blind-ones, aboord him: if he thinke it fit to shoare them againe, and that the Complaint they haue to the King, concernes him nothing, let him call me Rogue, for being so farre officious, for I am proofe against that Title, and what shame else belongs to't: To him will I present them, there may be matter in it.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Leontes, Cleomines, Dion, Paulina, Seruants: Florizel, Perdita.

Cleo. Sir, you haue done enough, and haue perform'd A Saint-like Sorrow: No fault could you make, Which you haue not redeem'd; indeed pay'd downe More penitence, then done trespas: At the last Doe, as the Heauens haue done; forget your euill, With them, forgiue your selfe

Leo. Whilest I remember Her, and her Vertues, I cannot forget My blemishes in them, and so still thinke of The wrong I did my selfe: which was so much, That Heire-lesse it hath made my Kingdome, and Destroy'd the sweet'st Companion, that ere man Bred his hopes out of, true

Paul. Too true (my Lord:) If one by one, you wedded all the World, Or from the All that are, tooke something good, To make a perfect Woman; she you kill'd, Would be vnparallell'd

Leo. I thinke so. Kill'd? She I kill'd? I did so: but thou strik'st me Sorely, to say I did: it is as bitter Vpon thy Tongue, as in my Thought. Now, good now, Say so but seldome

Cleo. Not at all, good Lady: You might haue spoken a thousand things, that would Haue done the time more benefit, and grac'd Your kindnesse better

Paul. You are one of those Would haue him wed againe

Dio. If you would not so, You pitty not the State, nor the Remembrance Of his most Soueraigne Name: Consider little, What Dangers, by his Highnesse faile of Issue, May drop vpon his Kingdome, and deuoure Incertaine lookers on. What were more holy, Then to reioyce the former Queene is well? What holyer, then for Royalties repayre, For present comfort, and for future good, To blesse the Bed of Maiestie againe With a sweet Fellow to't? Paul. There is none worthy, (Respecting her that's gone:) besides the Gods Will haue fulfill'd their secret purposes: For ha's not the Diuine Apollo said? Is't not the tenor of his Oracle, That King Leontes shall not haue an Heire, Till his lost Child be found? Which, that it shall, Is all as monstrous to our humane reason, As my Antigonus to breake his Graue, And come againe to me: who, on my life, Did perish with the Infant. 'Tis your councell, My Lord should to the Heauens be contrary, Oppose against their wills. Care not for Issue, The Crowne will find an Heire. Great Alexander Left his to th' Worthiest: so his Successor Was like to be the best

Leo. Good Paulina, Who hast the memorie of Hermione I know in honor: O, that euer I Had squar'd me to thy councell: then, euen now, I might haue look'd vpon my Queenes full eyes, Haue taken Treasure from her Lippes

Paul. And left them More rich, for what they yeelded

Leo. Thou speak'st truth: No more such Wiues, therefore no Wife: one worse, And better vs'd, would make her Sainted Spirit Againe possesse her Corps, and on this Stage (Where we Offendors now appeare) Soule-vext, And begin, why to me? Paul. Had she such power, She had iust such cause

Leo. She had, and would incense me To murther her I marryed

Paul. I should so: Were I the Ghost that walk'd, Il'd bid you marke Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in't You chose her: then Il'd shrieke, that euen your eares Should rift to heare me, and the words that follow'd, Should be, Remember mine

Leo. Starres, Starres, And all eyes else, dead coales: feare thou no Wife; Ile haue no Wife, Paulina

Paul. Will you sweare Neuer to marry, but by my free leaue? Leo. Neuer (Paulina) so be bless'd my Spirit

Paul. Then good my Lords, beare witnesse to his Oath

Cleo. You tempt him ouer-much

Paul. Vnlesse another, As like Hermione, as is her Picture, Affront his eye

Cleo. Good Madame, I haue done

Paul. Yet if my Lord will marry: if you will, Sir; No remedie but you will: Giue me the Office To chuse you a Queene: she shall not be so young As was your former, but she shall be such As (walk'd your first Queenes Ghost) it should take ioy To see her in your armes

Leo. My true Paulina, We shall not marry, till thou bidst vs

Paul. That Shall be when your first Queene's againe in breath: Neuer till then. Enter a Seruant.

Ser. One that giues out himselfe Prince Florizell, Sonne of Polixenes, with his Princesse (she The fairest I haue yet beheld) desires accesse To your high presence

Leo. What with him? he comes not Like to his Fathers Greatnesse: his approach (So out of circumstance, and suddaine) tells vs, 'Tis not a Visitation fram'd, but forc'd By need, and accident. What Trayne? Ser. But few, And those but meane

Leo. His Princesse (say you) with him? Ser. I: the most peerelesse peece of Earth, I thinke, That ere the Sunne shone bright on

Paul. Oh Hermione, As euery present Time doth boast it selfe Aboue a better, gone; so must thy Graue Giue way to what's seene now. Sir, you your selfe Haue said, and writ so; but your writing now Is colder then that Theame: she had not beene, Nor was not to be equall'd, thus your Verse Flow'd with her Beautie once; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd, To say you haue seene a better

Ser. Pardon, Madame: The one, I haue almost forgot (your pardon:) The other, when she ha's obtayn'd your Eye, Will haue your Tongue too. This is a Creature, Would she begin a Sect, might quench the zeale Of all Professors else; make Proselytes Of who she but bid follow

Paul. How? not women? Ser. Women will loue her, that she is a Woman More worth then any Man: Men, that she is The rarest of all Women

Leo. Goe Cleomines, Your selfe (assisted with your honor'd Friends) Bring them to our embracement. Still 'tis strange, He thus should steale vpon vs. Enter

Paul. Had our Prince (Iewell of Children) seene this houre, he had payr'd Well with this Lord; there was not full a moneth Betweene their births

Leo. 'Prethee no more; cease: thou know'st He dyes to me againe, when talk'd-of: sure When I shall see this Gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that, which may Vnfurnish me of Reason. They are come. Enter Florizell, Perdita, Cleomines, and others.

Your Mother was most true to Wedlock, Prince, For she did print your Royall Father off, Conceiuing you. Were I but twentie one, Your Fathers Image is so hit in you, (His very ayre) that I should call you Brother, As I did him, and speake of something wildly By vs perform'd before. Most dearely welcome, And your faire Princesse (Goddesse) oh: alas, I lost a couple, that 'twixt Heauen and Earth Might thus haue stood, begetting wonder, as You (gracious Couple) doe: and then I lost (All mine owne Folly) the Societie, Amitie too of your braue Father, whom (Though bearing Miserie) I desire my life Once more to looke on him

Flo. By his command Haue I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him Giue you all greetings, that a King (at friend) Can send his Brother: and but Infirmitie (Which waits vpon worne times) hath something seiz'd His wish'd Abilitie, he had himselfe The Lands and Waters, 'twixt your Throne and his, Measur'd, to looke vpon you; whom he loues (He bad me say so) more then all the Scepters, And those that beare them, liuing

Leo. Oh my Brother, (Good Gentleman) the wrongs I haue done thee, stirre Afresh within me: and these thy offices (So rarely kind) are as Interpreters Of my behind-hand slacknesse. Welcome hither, As is the Spring to th' Earth. And hath he too Expos'd this Paragon to th' fearefull vsage (At least vngentle) of the dreadfull Neptune, To greet a man, not worth her paines; much lesse, Th' aduenture of her person? Flo. Good my Lord, She came from Libia

Leo. Where the Warlike Smalus, That Noble honor'd Lord, is fear'd, and lou'd? Flo. Most Royall Sir, From thence: from him, whose Daughter His Teares proclaym'd his parting with her: thence (A prosperous South-wind friendly) we haue cross'd, To execute the Charge my Father gaue me, For visiting your Highnesse: My best Traine I haue from your Sicilian Shores dismiss'd; Who for Bohemia bend, to signifie Not onely my successe in Libia (Sir) But my arriuall, and my Wifes, in safetie Here, where we are

Leo. The blessed Gods Purge all Infection from our Ayre, whilest you Doe Clymate here: you haue a holy Father, A graceful Gentleman, against whose person (So sacred as it is) I haue done sinne, For which, the Heauens (taking angry note) Haue left me Issue-lesse: and your Father's bless'd (As he from Heauen merits it) with you, Worthy his goodnesse. What might I haue been, Might I a Sonne and Daughter now haue look'd on, Such goodly things as you? Enter a Lord.

Lord. Most Noble Sir, That which I shall report, will beare no credit, Were not the proofe so nigh. Please you (great Sir) Bohemia greets you from himselfe, by me: Desires you to attach his Sonne, who ha's (His Dignitie, and Dutie both cast off) Fled from his Father, from his Hopes, and with A Shepheards Daughter

Leo. Where's Bohemia? speake: Lord. Here, in your Citie: I now came from him. I speake amazedly, and it becomes My meruaile, and my Message. To your Court Whiles he was hastning (in the Chase, it seemes, Of this faire Couple) meetes he on the way The Father of this seeming Lady, and Her Brother, hauing both their Countrey quitted, With this young Prince

Flo. Camillo ha's betray'd me; Whose honor, and whose honestie till now, Endur'd all Weathers

Lord. Lay't so to his charge: He's with the King your Father

Leo. Who? Camillo? Lord. Camillo (Sir:) I spake with him: who now Ha's these poore men in question. Neuer saw I Wretches so quake: they kneele, they kisse the Earth; Forsweare themselues as often as they speake: Bohemia stops his eares, and threatens them With diuers deaths, in death

Perd. Oh my poore Father: The Heauen sets Spyes vpon vs, will not haue Our Contract celebrated

Leo. You are marryed? Flo. We are not (Sir) nor are we like to be: The Starres (I see) will kisse the Valleyes first: The oddes for high and low's alike

Leo. My Lord, Is this the Daughter of a King? Flo. She is, When once she is my Wife

Leo. That once (I see) by your good Fathers speed, Will come-on very slowly. I am sorry (Most sorry) you haue broken from his liking, Where you were ty'd in dutie: and as sorry, Your Choice is not so rich in Worth, as Beautie, That you might well enioy her

Flo. Deare, looke vp: Though Fortune, visible an Enemie, Should chase vs, with my Father; powre no iot Hath she to change our Loues. Beseech you (Sir) Remember, since you ow'd no more to Time Then I doe now: with thought of such Affections, Step forth mine Aduocate: at your request, My Father will graunt precious things, as Trifles

Leo. Would he doe so, I'ld beg your precious Mistris, Which he counts but a Trifle

Paul. Sir (my Liege) Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a moneth 'Fore your Queene dy'd, she was more worth such gazes, Then what you looke on now

Leo. I thought of her, Euen in these Lookes I made. But your Petition Is yet vn-answer'd: I will to your Father: Your Honor not o're-throwne by your desires, I am friend to them, and you: Vpon which Errand I now goe toward him: therefore follow me, And marke what way I make: Come good my Lord.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman.

Aut. Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation? Gent.1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard the old Shepheard deliuer the manner how he found it: Whereupon (after a little amazednesse) we were all commanded out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I heard the Shepheard say, he found the Child

Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it

Gent.1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Businesse; but the changes I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were very Notes of admiration: they seem'd almost, with staring on one another, to teare the Cases of their Eyes. There was speech in their dumbnesse, Language in their very gesture: they look'd as they had heard of a World ransom'd, or one destroyed: a notable passion of Wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if th' importance were Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it must needs be. Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more: The Newes, Rogero

Gent.2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is fulfill'd: the Kings Daughter is found: such a deale of wonder is broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot be able to expresse it. Enter another Gentleman.

Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which is call'd true) is so like an old Tale, that the veritie of it is in strong suspition: Ha's the King found his Heire? Gent.3. Most true, if euer Truth were pregnant by Circumstance: That which you heare, you'le sweare you see, there is such vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle of Queene Hermiones: her Iewell about the Neck of it: the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his Character: the Maiestie of the Creature, in resemblance of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenesse, which Nature shewes aboue her Breeding, and many other Euidences, proclayme her, with all certaintie, to be the Kings Daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two Kings? Gent.2. No

Gent.3. Then haue you lost a Sight which was to bee seene, cannot bee spoken of. There might you haue beheld one Ioy crowne another, so and in such manner, that it seem'd Sorrow wept to take leaue of them: for their Ioy waded in teares. There was casting vp of Eyes, holding vp of Hands, with Countenance of such distraction, that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Fauor. Our King being ready to leape out of himselfe, for ioy of his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become a Losse, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes Bohemia forgiuenesse, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law: then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which stands by, like a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I neuer heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report to follow it, and vndo's description to doe it

Gent.2. What, 'pray you, became of Antigonus, that carryed hence the Child? Gent.3. Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter to rehearse, though Credit be asleepe, and not an eare open; he was torne to pieces with a Beare: This auouches the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely his Innocence (which seemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes

Gent.1. What became of his Barke, and his Followers? Gent.3. Wrackt the same instant of their Masters death, and in the view of the Shepheard: so that all the Instruments which ayded to expose the Child, were euen then lost, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat, that 'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in Paulina. Shee had one Eye declin'd for the losse of her Husband, another eleuated, that the Oracle was fulfill'd: Shee lifted the Princesse from the Earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no more be in danger of loosing

Gent.1. The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted

Gent.3. One of the prettyest touches of all, and that which angl'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though not the Fish) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes death (with the manner how shee came to't, brauely confess'd, and lamented by the King) how attentiuenesse wounded his Daughter, till (from one signe of dolour to another) shee did (with an Alas) I would faine say, bleed Teares; for I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was most Marble, there changed colour: some swownded, all sorrowed: if all the World could haue seen't, the Woe had beene vniuersall

Gent.1. Are they returned to the Court? Gent.3. No: The Princesse hearing of her Mothers Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a Peece many yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare Italian Master, Iulio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eternitie, and could put Breath into his Worke) would beguile Nature of her Custome, so perfectly he is her Ape: He so neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione, that they say one would speake to her, and stand in hope of answer. Thither (with all greedinesse of affection) are they gone, and there they intend to Sup

Gent.2. I thought she had some great matter there in hand, for shee hath priuately, twice or thrice a day, euer since the death of Hermione, visited that remoued House. Shall wee thither, and with our companie peece the Reioycing? Gent.1. Who would be thence, that ha's the benefit of Accesse? euery winke of an Eye, some new Grace will be borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our Knowledge. Let's along. Enter.

Aut. Now (had I not the dash of my former life in me) would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (so he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-sick, and himselfe little better, extremitie of Weather continuing, this Mysterie remained vndiscouer'd. But 'tis all one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this Secret, it would not haue rellish'd among my other discredits. Enter Shepheard and Clowne.

Here come those I haue done good to against my will, and alreadie appearing in the blossomes of their Fortune

Shep. Come Boy, I am past moe Children: but thy Sonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne

Clow. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight with mee this other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you these Clothes? say you see them not, and thinke me still no Gentleman borne: You were best say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman borne

Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne

Clow. I, and haue been so any time these foure houres

Shep. And so haue I, Boy

Clow. So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then the two Kings call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my Brother) and the Princesse (my Sister) call'd my Father, Father; and so wee wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like teares that euer we shed

Shep. We may liue (Sonne) to shed many more

Clow. I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are

Aut. I humbly beseech you (Sir) to pardon me all the faults I haue committed to your Worship, and to giue me your good report to the Prince my Master

Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we must be gentle, now we are Gentlemen

Clow. Thou wilt amend thy life? Aut. I, and it like your good Worship

Clow. Giue me thy hand: I will sweare to the Prince, thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia

Shep. You may say it, but not sweare it

Clow. Not sweare it, now I am a Gentleman? Let Boores and Francklins say it, Ile sweare it

Shep. How if it be false (Sonne?) Clow. If it be ne're so false, a true Gentleman may sweare it, in the behalfe of his Friend: And Ile sweare to the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile sweare it, and I would thou would'st be a tall Fellow of thy hands

Aut. I will proue so (Sir) to my power

Clow. I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not wonder, how thou dar'st venture to be drunke, not being a tall Fellow, trust me not. Harke, the Kings and Princes (our Kindred) are going to see the Queenes Picture. Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Masters.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, &c.

Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfort That I haue had of thee? Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir) I did not well, I meant well: all my Seruices You haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd (With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contracted Heires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit; It is a surplus of your Grace, which neuer My life may last to answere

Leo. O Paulina, We honor you with trouble: but we came To see the Statue of our Queene. Your Gallerie Haue we pass'd through, not without much content In many singularities; but we saw not That which my Daughter came to looke vpon, The Statue of her Mother

Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse, So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeue Excells what euer yet you look'd vpon, Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe it Louely, apart. But here it is: prepare To see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euer Still Sleepe mock'd Death: behold, and say 'tis well. I like your silence, it the more shewes-off Your wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege) Comes it not something neere? Leo. Her naturall Posture. Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeed Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she, In thy not chiding: for she was as tender As Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina) Hermione was not so much wrinckled, nothing So aged as this seemes

Pol. Oh, not by much

Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence, Which lets goe-by some sixteene yeeres, and makes her As she liu'd now

Leo. As now she might haue done, So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood, Euen with such Life of Maiestie (warme Life, As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her. I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me, For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece: There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha's My Euils coniur'd to remembrance; and From thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits, Standing like Stone with thee

Perd. And giue me leaue, And doe not say 'tis Superstition, that I kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady, Deere Queene, that ended when I but began, Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse

Paul. O, patience: The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour's Not dry

Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on, Which sixteene Winters cannot blow away, So many Summers dry: scarce any Ioy Did euer so long liue; no Sorrow, But kill'd it selfe much sooner

Pol. Deere my Brother, Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powre To take-off so much griefe from you, as he Will peece vp in himselfe

Paul. Indeed my Lord, If I had thought the sight of my poore Image Would thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine) Il'd not haue shew'd it

Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your Fancie May thinke anon, it moues

Leo. Let be, let be: Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie. (What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord) Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those veines Did verily beare blood? Pol. 'Masterly done: The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe

Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't, As we are mock'd with Art

Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine: My Lord's almost so farre transported, that Hee'le thinke anon it liues

Leo. Oh sweet Paulina, Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together: No setled Sences of the World can match The pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone

Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: but I could afflict you farther

Leo. Doe Paulina: For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweet As any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkes There is an ayre comes from her. What fine Chizzell Could euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, For I will kisse her

Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare: The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet: You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owne With Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine

Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres

Perd. So long could I Stand-by, a looker-on

Paul. Either forbeare, Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue you For more amazement: if you can behold it, Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend, And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke (Which I protest against) I am assisted By wicked Powers

Leo. What you can make her doe, I am content to looke on: what to speake, I am content to heare: for 'tis as easie To make her speake, as moue

Paul. It is requir'd You doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still: On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull Businesse I am about, let them depart

Leo. Proceed: No foot shall stirre

Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike: 'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach: Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come: Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come away: Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him, Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres: Start not: her Actions shall be holy, as You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her, Vntill you see her dye againe; for then You kill her double: Nay, present your Hand: When she was young, you woo'd her: now, in age, Is she become the Suitor? Leo. Oh, she's warme: If this be Magick, let it be an Art Lawfull as Eating

Pol. She embraces him

Cam. She hangs about his necke, If she pertaine to life, let her speake too

Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd, Or how stolne from the dead? Paul. That she is liuing, Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old Tale: but it appeares she liues, Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while: Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele, And pray your Mothers blessing: turne good Lady, Our Perdita is found

Her. You Gods looke downe, And from your sacred Viols poure your graces Vpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne) Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How found Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I Knowing by Paulina, that the Oracle Gaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'd My selfe, to see the yssue

Paul. There's time enough for that, Least they desire (vpon this push) to trouble Your ioyes, with like Relation. Go together You precious winners all: your exultation Partake to euery one: I (an old Turtle) Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there My Mate (that's neuer to be found againe) Lament, till I am lost

Leo. O peace Paulina: Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match, And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine, But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her (As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said many A prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre (For him, I partly know his minde) to finde thee An honourable husband. Come Camillo, And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty Is richly noted: and heere iustified By Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place. What? looke vpon my Brother: both your pardons, That ere I put betweene your holy lookes My ill suspition: This your Son-in-law, And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurely Each one demand, and answere to his part Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first We were disseuer'd: Hastily lead away.

Exeunt.

The Names of the Actors.

Leontes, King of Sicillia. Mamillus, yong Prince of Sicillia. Camillo. Antigonus. Cleomines. Dion. Foure Lords of Sicillia. Hermione, Queene to Leontes. Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione. Paulina, wife to Antigonus. Emilia, a Lady. Polixenes, King of Bohemia. Florizell, Prince of Bohemia. Old Shepheard, reputed Father of Perdita. Clowne, his Sonne. Autolicus, a Rogue. Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia. Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants. Shepheards, and Shephearddesses.

FINIS. The Winters Tale.

The life and death of King John

Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.

Enter King Iohn, Queene Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury, with the Chattylion of France.

King Iohn. Now say Chatillion, what would France with vs? Chat. Thus (after greeting) speakes the King of France, In my behauiour to the Maiesty, The borrowed Maiesty of England heere

Elea. A strange beginning: borrowed Maiesty? K.Iohn. Silence (good mother) heare the Embassie

Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalfe Of thy deceased brother, Geffreyes sonne, Arthur Plantaginet, laies most lawfull claime To this faire Iland, and the Territories: To Ireland, Poyctiers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which swaies vsurpingly these seuerall titles, And put the same into yong Arthurs hand, Thy Nephew, and right royall Soueraigne

K.Iohn. What followes if we disallow of this? Chat. The proud controle of fierce and bloudy warre, To inforce these rights, so forcibly with-held, K.Io. Heere haue we war for war, & bloud for bloud, Controlement for controlement: so answer France

Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth, The farthest limit of my Embassie

K.Iohn. Beare mine to him, and so depart in peace, Be thou as lightning in the eies of France; For ere thou canst report, I will be there: The thunder of my Cannon shall be heard. So hence: be thou the trumpet of our wrath, And sullen presage of your owne decay: An honourable conduct let him haue, Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chattillion.

Exit Chat. and Pem.

Ele. What now my sonne, haue I not euer said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world, Vpon the right and party of her sonne. This might haue beene preuented, and made whole With very easie arguments of loue, Which now the mannage of two kingdomes must With fearefull bloudy issue arbitrate

K.Iohn. Our strong possession, and our right for vs

Eli. Your strong possessio[n] much more then your right, Or else it must go wrong with you and me, So much my conscience whispers in your eare, Which none but heauen, and you, and I, shall heare. Enter a Sheriffe.

Essex. My Liege, here is the strangest controuersie Come from the Country to be iudg'd by you That ere I heard: shall I produce the men? K.Iohn. Let them approach: Our Abbies and our Priories shall pay This expeditions charge: what men are you? Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.

Philip. Your faithfull subiect, I a gentleman, Borne in Northamptonshire, and eldest sonne As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-hand Of Cordelion, Knighted in the field

K.Iohn. What art thou? Robert. The son and heire to that same Faulconbridge

K.Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre? You came not of one mother then it seemes

Philip. Most certain of one mother, mighty King, That is well knowne, and as I thinke one father: But for the certaine knowledge of that truth, I put you o're to heauen, and to my mother; Of that I doubt, as all mens children may

Eli. Out on thee rude man, y dost shame thy mother, And wound her honor with this diffidence

Phil. I Madame? No, I haue no reason for it, That is my brothers plea, and none of mine, The which if he can proue, a pops me out, At least from faire fiue hundred pound a yeere: Heauen guard my mothers honor, and my Land

K.Iohn. A good blunt fellow: why being yonger born Doth he lay claime to thine inheritance? Phil. I know not why, except to get the land: But once he slanderd me with bastardy: But where I be as true begot or no, That still I lay vpon my mothers head, But that I am as well begot my Liege (Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me) Compare our faces, and be Iudge your selfe If old Sir Robert did beget vs both, And were our father, and this sonne like him: O old sir Robert Father, on my knee I giue heauen thankes I was not like to thee

K.Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heauen lent vs here? Elen. He hath a tricke of Cordelions face, The accent of his tongue affecteth him: Doe you not read some tokens of my sonne In the large composition of this man? K.Iohn. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, And findes them perfect Richard: sirra speake, What doth moue you to claime your brothers land

Philip. Because he hath a half-face like my father? With halfe that face would he haue all my land, A halfe-fac'd groat, fiue hundred pound a yeere? Rob. My gracious Liege, when that my father liu'd, Your brother did imploy my father much

Phil. Well sir, by this you cannot get my land, Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother

Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an Embassie To Germany, there with the Emperor To treat of high affaires touching that time: Th' aduantage of his absence tooke the King, And in the meane time soiourn'd at my fathers; Where how he did preuaile, I shame to speake: But truth is truth, large lengths of seas and shores Betweene my father, and my mother lay, As I haue heard my father speake himselfe When this same lusty gentleman was got: Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me, and tooke it on his death That this my mothers sonne was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full fourteene weekes before the course of time: Then good my Liedge let me haue what is mine, My fathers land, as was my fathers will

K.Iohn. Sirra, your brother is Legittimate, Your fathers wife did after wedlocke beare him: And if she did play false, the fault was hers, Which fault lyes on the hazards of all husbands That marry wiues: tell me, how if my brother Who as you say, tooke paines to get this sonne, Had of your father claim'd this sonne for his, Insooth, good friend, your father might haue kept This Calfe, bred from his Cow from all the world: Insooth he might: then if he were my brothers, My brother might not claime him, nor your father Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes, My mothers sonne did get your fathers heyre, Your fathers heyre must haue your fathers land

Rob. Shal then my fathers Will be of no force, To dispossesse that childe which is not his

Phil. Of no more force to dispossesse me sir, Then was his will to get me, as I think

Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge, And like thy brother to enioy thy land: Or the reputed sonne of Cordelion, Lord of thy presence, and no land beside

Bast. Madam, and if my brother had my shape And I had his, sir Roberts his like him, And if my legs were two such riding rods, My armes, such eele skins stuft, my face so thin, That in mine eare I durst not sticke a rose, Lest men should say, looke where three farthings goes, And to his shape were heyre to all this land, Would I might neuer stirre from off this place, I would giue it euery foot to haue this face: It would not be sir nobbe in any case

Elinor. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune, Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me? I am a Souldier, and now bound to France

Bast. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance; Your face hath got fiue hundred pound a yeere, Yet sell your face for fiue pence and 'tis deere: Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death

Elinor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither

Bast. Our Country manners giue our betters way

K.Iohn. What is thy name? Bast. Philip my Liege, so is my name begun, Philip, good old Sir Roberts wiues eldest sonne

K.Iohn. From henceforth beare his name Whose forme thou bearest: Kneele thou downe Philip, but rise more great, Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet

Bast. Brother by th' mothers side, giue me your hand, My father gaue me honor, yours gaue land: Now blessed be the houre by night or day When I was got, Sir Robert was away

Ele. The very spirit of Plantaginet: I am thy grandame Richard, call me so

Bast. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho; Something about a little from the right, In at the window, or else ore the hatch: Who dares not stirre by day, must walke by night, And haue is haue, how euer men doe catch: Neere or farre off, well wonne is still well shot, And I am I, how ere I was begot

K.Iohn. Goe, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire, A landlesse Knight, makes thee a landed Squire: Come Madam, and come Richard, we must speed For France, for France, for it is more then need

Bast. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee, For thou wast got i'th way of honesty.

Exeunt. all but bastard.

Bast. A foot of Honor better then I was, But many a many foot of Land the worse. Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady, Good den Sir Richard, Godamercy fellow, And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter; For new made honor doth forget mens names: 'Tis two respectiue, and too sociable For your conuersion, now your traueller, Hee and his tooth-picke at my worships messe, And when my knightly stomacke is suffis'd, Why then I sucke my teeth, and catechize My picked man of Countries: my deare sir, Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin, I shall beseech you; that is question now, And then comes answer like an Absey booke: O sir, sayes answer, at your best command, At your employment, at your seruice sir: No sir, saies question, I sweet sir at yours, And so ere answer knowes what question would, Sauing in Dialogue of Complement, And talking of the Alpes and Appenines, The Perennean and the riuer Poe, It drawes toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipfull society, And fits the mounting spirit like my selfe; For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smoake of obseruation, And so am I whether I smacke or no: And not alone in habit and deuice, Exterior forme, outward accoutrement; But from the inward motion to deliuer Sweet, sweet, sweet poyson for the ages tooth, Which though I will not practice to deceiue, Yet to auoid deceit I meane to learne; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising: But who comes in such haste in riding robes? What woman post is this? hath she no husband That will take paines to blow a horne before her? O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady, What brings you heere to Court so hastily? Enter Lady Faulconbridge and Iames Gurney.

Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he? That holds in chase mine honour vp and downe

Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne: Colbrand the Gyant, that same mighty man, Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so? Lady. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy, Sir Roberts sonne? why scorn'st thou at sir Robert? He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou

Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while? Gour. Good leaue good Philip

Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames, There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.

Exit Iames.

Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne, Sir Robert might haue eat his part in me Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast: Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse Could get me sir Robert could not doe it; We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother To whom am I beholding for these limmes? Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge

Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine owne gaine shouldst defend mine honor? What meanes this scorne, thou most vntoward knaue? Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like: What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder: But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne, I haue disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land, Legitimation, name, and all is gone; Then good my mother, let me know my father, Some proper man I hope, who was it mother? Lady. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge? Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill

Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father, By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd To make roome for him in my husbands bed: Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge, That art the issue of my deere offence Which was so strongly vrg'd past my defence

Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe, Madam I would not wish a better father: Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth, And so doth yours: your fault, was not your follie, Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subiected tribute to commanding loue, Against whose furie and vnmatched force, The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight, Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand: He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts, May easily winne a womans: aye my mother, With all my heart I thanke thee for my father: Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not well When I was got, Ile send his soule to hell. Come Lady I will shew thee to my kinne, And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst sayd him nay, it had beene sinne; Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.

Exeunt.

Scaena Secunda.

Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daulphin, Austria, Constance, Arthur.

Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria, Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud, Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart, And fought the holy Warres in Palestine, By this braue Duke came early to his graue: And for amends to his posteritie, At our importance hether is he come, To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe, And to rebuke the vsurpation Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn, Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether

Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions death The rather, that you giue his off-spring life, Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre: I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand, But with a heart full of vnstained loue, Welcome before the gates Angiers Duke

Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right? Aust. Vpon thy cheeke lay I this zelous kisse, As seale to this indenture of my loue: That to my home I will no more returne Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides, And coopes from other lands her Ilanders, Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine, That Water-walled Bulwarke, still secure And confident from forreine purposes, Euen till that vtmost corner of the West Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy Will I not thinke of home, but follow Armes

Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks, Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him strength, To make a more requitall to your loue

Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their swords In such a iust and charitable warre

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent Against the browes of this resisting towne, Call for our cheefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best aduantages: Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones, Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud, But we will make it subiect to this boy

Con. Stay for an answer to your Embassie, Lest vnaduis'd you staine your swords with bloud, My Lord Chattilion may from England bring That right in peace which heere we vrge in warre, And then we shall repent each drop of bloud, That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde. Enter Chattilion.

King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wish Our Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd, What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord, We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speake, Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry siege, And stirre them vp against a mightier taske: England impatient of your iust demands, Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windes Whose leisure I haue staid, haue giuen him time To land his Legions all as soone as I: His marches are expedient to this towne, His forces strong, his Souldiers confident: With him along is come the Mother Queene, An Ace stirring him to bloud and strife, With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine, With them a Bastard of the Kings deceast, And all th' vnsetled humors of the Land, Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes, Haue sold their fortunes at their natiue homes, Bearing their birth-rights proudly on their backs, To make a hazard of new fortunes heere: In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse spirits Then now the English bottomes haue waft o're, Did neuer flote vpon the swelling tide, To doe offence and scathe in Christendome: The interruption of their churlish drums Cuts off more circumstance, they are at hand,

Drum beats.

To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare

Kin. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition

Aust. By how much vnexpected, by so much We must awake indeuor for defence, For courage mounteth with occasion, Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd. Enter K[ing]. of England, Bastard, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke, and others.

K.Iohn. Peace be to France: If France in peace permit Our iust and lineall entrance to our owne; If not, bleede France, and peace ascend to heauen. Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correct Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heauen

Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returne From France to England, there to liue in peace: England we loue, and for that Englands sake, With burden of our armor heere we sweat: This toyle of ours should be a worke of thine; But thou from louing England art so farre, That thou hast vnder-wrought his lawfull King, Cut off the sequence of posterity, Out-faced Infant State, and done a rape Vpon the maiden vertue of the Crowne: Looke heere vpon thy brother Geffreyes face, These eyes, these browes, were moulded out of his; This little abstract doth containe that large, Which died in Geffrey: and the hand of time, Shall draw this breefe into as huge a volume: That Geffrey was thy elder brother borne, And this his sonne, England was Geffreys right, And this is Geffreyes in the name of God: How comes it then that thou art call'd a King, When liuing blood doth in these temples beat Which owe the crowne, that thou ore-masterest? K.Iohn. From whom hast thou this great commission France, To draw my answer from thy Articles? Fra. Fro[m] that supernal Iudge that stirs good thoughts In any breast of strong authoritie, To looke into the blots and staines of right, That Iudge hath made me guardian to this boy, Vnder whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, And by whose helpe I meane to chastise it

K.Iohn. Alack thou dost vsurpe authoritie

Fran. Excuse it is to beat vsurping downe

Queen. Who is it thou dost call vsurper France? Const. Let me make answer: thy vsurping sonne

Queen. Out insolent, thy bastard shall be King, That thou maist be a Queen, and checke the world

Con. My bed was euer to thy sonne as true As thine was to thy husband, and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey Then thou and Iohn, in manners being as like, As raine to water, or deuill to his damme; My boy a bastard? by my soule I thinke His father neuer was so true begot, It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother

Queen. Theres a good mother boy, that blots thy father Const. There's a good grandame boy That would blot thee

Aust. Peace

Bast. Heare the Cryer

Aust. What the deuill art thou? Bast. One that wil play the deuill sir with you, And a may catch your hide and you alone: You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goes Whose valour plucks dead Lyons by the beard; Ile smoake your skin-coat and I catch you right, Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith

Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe, That did disrobe the Lion of that robe

Bast. It lies as sightly on the backe of him As great Alcides shooes vpon an Asse: But Asse, Ile take that burthen from your backe, Or lay on that shall make your shoulders cracke

Aust. What cracker is this same that deafes our eares With this abundance of superfluous breath? King Lewis, determine what we shall doe strait

Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference. King Iohn, this is the very summe of all: England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine, In right of Arthur doe I claime of thee: Wilt thou resigne them, and lay downe thy Armes? Iohn. My life as soone: I doe defie thee France, Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my hand, And out of my deere loue Ile giue thee more, Then ere the coward hand of France can win; Submit thee boy

Queen. Come to thy grandame child

Cons. Doe childe, goe to yt grandame childe, Giue grandame kingdome, and it grandame will Giue yt a plum, a cherry, and a figge, There's a good grandame

Arthur. Good my mother peace, I would that I were low laid in my graue, I am not worth this coyle that's made for me

Qu.Mo. His mother shames him so, poore boy hee weepes

Con. Now shame vpon you where she does or no, His grandames wrongs, and not his mothers shames Drawes those heauen-mouing pearles fro[m] his poor eies, Which heauen shall take in nature of a fee: I, with these Christall beads heauen shall be brib'd To doe him Iustice, and reuenge on you

Qu. Thou monstrous slanderer of heauen and earth

Con. Thou monstrous Iniurer of heauen and earth, Call not me slanderer, thou and thine vsurpe The Dominations, Royalties, and rights Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest sonnes sonne, Infortunate in nothing but in thee: Thy sinnes are visited in this poore childe, The Canon of the Law is laide on him, Being but the second generation Remoued from thy sinne-conceiuing wombe

Iohn. Bedlam haue done

Con. I haue but this to say, That he is not onely plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sinne and her, the plague On this remoued issue, plagued for her, And with her plague her sinne: his iniury Her iniurie the Beadle to her sinne, All punish'd in the person of this childe, And all for her, a plague vpon her

Que. Thou vnaduised scold, I can produce A Will, that barres the title of thy sonne

Con. I who doubts that, a Will: a wicked will, A womans will, a cankred Grandams will

Fra. Peace Lady, pause, or be more temperate, It ill beseemes this presence to cry ayme To these ill-tuned repetitions: Some Trumpet summon hither to the walles These men of Angiers, let vs heare them speake, Whose title they admit, Arthurs or Iohns.

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Citizen vpon the walles.

Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd vs to the walles? Fra. 'Tis France, for England

Iohn. England for it selfe: You men of Angiers, and my louing subiects

Fra. You louing men of Angiers, Arthurs subiects, Our Trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle

Iohn. For our aduantage, therefore heare vs first: These flagges of France that are aduanced heere Before the eye and prospect of your Towne, Haue hither march'd to your endamagement. The Canons haue their bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their Iron indignation 'gainst your walles: All preparation for a bloody siedge And merciles proceeding, by these French. Comfort your Citties eies, your winking gates: And but for our approch, those sleeping stones, That as a waste doth girdle you about By the compulsion of their Ordinance, By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had bin dishabited, and wide hauocke made For bloody power to rush vppon your peace. But on the sight of vs your lawfull King, Who painefully with much expedient march Haue brought a counter-checke before your gates, To saue vnscratch'd your Citties threatned cheekes: Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle, And now insteed of bulletts wrapt in fire To make a shaking feuer in your walles, They shoote but calme words, folded vp in smoake, To make a faithlesse errour in your eares, Which trust accordingly kinde Cittizens, And let vs in. Your King, whose labour'd spirits Fore-wearied in this action of swift speede, Craues harbourage within your Citie walles

France. When I haue saide, make answer to vs both. Loe in this right hand, whose protection Is most diuinely vow'd vpon the right Of him it holds, stands yong Plantagenet, Sonne to the elder brother of this man, And King ore him, and all that he enioyes: For this downe-troden equity, we tread In warlike march, these greenes before your Towne, Being no further enemy to you Then the constraint of hospitable zeale, In the releefe of this oppressed childe, Religiously prouokes. Be pleased then To pay that dutie which you truly owe, To him that owes it, namely, this yong Prince, And then our Armes, like to a muzled Beare, Saue in aspect, hath all offence seal'd vp: Our Cannons malice vainly shall be spent Against th' involnerable clouds of heauen, And with a blessed and vn-vext retyre, With vnhack'd swords, and Helmets all vnbruis'd, We will beare home that lustie blood againe, Which heere we came to spout against your Towne, And leaue your children, wiues, and you in peace. But if you fondly passe our proffer'd offer, 'Tis not the rounder of your old-fac'd walles, Can hide you from our messengers of Warre, Though all these English, and their discipline Were harbour'd in their rude circumference: Then tell vs, Shall your Citie call vs Lord, In that behalfe which we haue challeng'd it? Or shall we giue the signall to our rage, And stalke in blood to our possession? Cit. In breefe, we are the King of Englands subiects For him, and in his right, we hold this Towne

Iohn. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in

Cit. That can we not: but he that proues the King To him will we proue loyall, till that time Haue we ramm'd vp our gates against the world

Iohn. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue the King? And if not that, I bring you Witnesses Twice fifteene thousand hearts of Englands breed

Bast. Bastards and else

Iohn. To verifie our title with their liues

Fran. As many and as well-borne bloods as those

Bast. Some Bastards too

Fran. Stand in his face to contradict his claime

Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both

Iohn. Then God forgiue the sinne of all those soules, That to their euerlasting residence, Before the dew of euening fall, shall fleete In dreadfull triall of our kingdomes King

Fran. Amen, Amen, mount Cheualiers to Armes

Bast. Saint George that swindg'd the Dragon, And ere since sit's on's horsebacke at mine Hostesse dore Teach vs some sence. Sirrah, were I at home At your den sirrah, with your Lionnesse, I would set an Oxe-head to your Lyons hide: And make a monster of you

Aust. Peace, no more

Bast. O tremble: for you heare the Lyon rore

Iohn. Vp higher to the plaine, where we'l set forth In best appointment all our Regiments

Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the field

Fra. It shall be so, and at the other hill Command the rest to stand, God and our right.

Exeunt.

Heere after excursions, Enter the Herald of France with Trumpets to the gates.

F.Her. You men of Angiers open wide your gates, And let yong Arthur Duke of Britaine in, Who by the hand of France, this day hath made Much worke for teares in many an English mother, Whose sonnes lye scattered on the bleeding ground: Many a widdowes husband groueling lies, Coldly embracing the discoloured earth, And victorie with little losse doth play Vpon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand triumphantly displayed To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime Arthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours. Enter English Herald with Trumpet.

E.Har. Reioyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels, King Iohn, your king and Englands, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day, Their Armours that march'd hence so siluer bright, Hither returne all gilt with Frenchmens blood: There stucke no plume in any English Crest, That is remoued by a staffe of France. Our colours do returne in those same hands That did display them when we first marcht forth: And like a iolly troope of Huntsmen come Our lustie English, all with purpled hands, Dide in the dying slaughter of their foes, Open your gates, and giue the Victors way

Hubert. Heralds, from off our towres we might behold From first to last, the on-set and retyre: Of both your Armies, whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured: Blood hath bought blood, and blowes haue answerd blowes: Strength matcht with strength, and power confronted power, Both are alike, and both alike we like: One must proue greatest. While they weigh so euen, We hold our Towne for neither: yet for both. Enter the two Kings with their powers, at seuerall doores.

Iohn. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the currant of our right rome on, Whose passage vext with thy impediment, Shall leaue his natiue channell, and ore-swell With course disturb'd euen thy confining shores, Vnlesse thou let his siluer Water, keepe A peacefull progresse to the Ocean

Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of blood In this hot triall more then we of France, Rather lost more. And by this hand I sweare That swayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes, Before we will lay downe our iust-borne Armes, Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainst whom these Armes wee beare, Or adde a royall number to the dead: Gracing the scroule that tels of this warres losse, With slaughter coupled to the name of kings

Bast. Ha Maiesty: how high thy glory towres, When the rich blood of kings is set on fire: Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with steele, The swords of souldiers are his teeth, his phangs, And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men In vndetermin'd differences of kings. Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus: Cry hauocke kings, backe to the stained field You equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits, Then let confusion of one part confirm The others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death

Iohn. Whose party do the Townesmen yet admit? Fra. Speake Citizens for England, whose your king

Hub. The king of England, when we know the king

Fra. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right

Iohn. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie, And beare possession of our Person heere, Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you

Fra. A greater powre then We denies all this, And till it be vndoubted, we do locke Our former scruple in our strong barr'd gates: Kings of our feare, vntill our feares resolu'd Be by some certaine king, purg'd and depos'd

Bast. By heauen, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings, And stand securely on their battelments, As in a Theater, whence they gape and point At your industrious Scenes and acts of death. Your Royall presences be rul'd by mee, Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem, Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bend Your sharpest Deeds of malice on this Towne. By East and West let France and England mount. Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes, Till their soule-fearing clamours haue braul'd downe The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie, I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades, Euen till vnfenced desolation Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre: That done, disseuer your vnited strengths, And part your mingled colours once againe, Turne face to face, and bloody point to point: Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy Minion, To whom in fauour she shall giue the day, And kisse him with a glorious victory: How like you this wilde counsell mighty States, Smackes it not something of the policie

Iohn. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads, I like it well. France, shall we knit our powres, And lay this Angiers euen with the ground, Then after fight who shall be king of it? Bast. And if thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuish Towne: Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie, As we will ours, against these sawcie walles, And when that we haue dash'd them to the ground, Why then defie each other, and pell-mell, Make worke vpon our selues, for heauen or hell

Fra. Let it be so: say, where will you assault? Iohn. We from the West will send destruction Into this Cities bosome

Aust. I from the North

Fran. Our Thunder from the South, Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne

Bast. O prudent discipline! From North to South: Austria and France shoot in each others mouth. Ile stirre them to it: Come, away, away

Hub. Heare vs great kings, vouchsafe awhile to stay And I shall shew you peace, and faire-fac'd league: Win you this Citie without stroke, or wound, Rescue those breathing liues to dye in beds, That heere come sacrifices for the field. Perseuer not, but heare me mighty kings

Iohn. Speake on with fauour, we are bent to heare

Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady Blanch Is neere to England, looke vpon the yeeres Of Lewes the Dolphin, and that louely maid. If lustie loue should go in quest of beautie, Where should he finde it fairer, then in Blanch: If zealous loue should go in search of vertue, Where should he finde it purer then in Blanch? If loue ambitious, sought a match of birth, Whose veines bound richer blood then Lady Blanch? Such as she is, in beautie, vertue, birth, Is the yong Dolphin euery way compleat, If not compleat of, say he is not shee, And she againe wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not, that she is not hee. He is the halfe part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as shee, And she a faire diuided excellence, Whose fulnesse of perfection lyes in him. O two such siluer currents when they ioyne Do glorifie the bankes that bound them in: And two such shores, to two such streames made one, Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, To these two Princes, if you marrie them: This Vnion shall do more then batterie can To our fast closed gates: for at this match, With swifter spleene then powder can enforce The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, And giue you entrance: but without this match, The sea enraged is not halfe so deafe, Lyons more confident, Mountaines and rockes More free from motion, no not death himselfe In mortall furie halfe so peremptorie, As we to keepe this Citie

Bast. Heeres a stay, That shakes the rotten carkasse of old death Out of his ragges. Here's a large mouth indeede, That spits forth death, and mountaines, rockes, and seas, Talkes as familiarly of roaring Lyons, As maids of thirteene do of puppi-dogges. What Cannoneere begot this lustie blood, He speakes plaine Cannon fire, and smoake, and bounce, He giues the bastinado with his tongue: Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of his But buffets better then a fist of France: Zounds, I was neuer so bethumpt with words, Since I first cal'd my brothers father Dad

Old Qu. Son, list to this coniunction, make this match Giue with our Neece a dowrie large enough, For by this knot, thou shalt so surely tye Thy now vnsur'd assurance to the Crowne, That yon greene boy shall haue no Sunne to ripe The bloome that promiseth a mightie fruite. I see a yeelding in the lookes of France: Marke how they whisper, vrge them while their soules Are capeable of this ambition, Least zeale now melted by the windie breath Of soft petitions, pittie and remorse, Coole and congeale againe to what it was

Hub. Why answer not the double Maiesties, This friendly treatie of our threatned Towne

Fra. Speake England first, that hath bin forward first To speake vnto this Cittie: what say you? Iohn. If that the Dolphin there thy Princely sonne, Can in this booke of beautie read, I loue: Her Dowrie shall weigh equall with a Queene: For Angiers, and faire Toraine Maine, Poyctiers, And all that we vpon this side the Sea, (Except this Cittie now by vs besiedg'd) Finde liable to our Crowne and Dignitie, Shall gild her bridall bed and make her rich In titles, honors, and promotions, As she in beautie, education, blood, Holdes hand with any Princesse of the world

Fra. What sai'st thou boy? looke in the Ladies face

Dol. I do my Lord, and in her eie I find A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of my selfe form'd in her eye, Which being but the shadow of your sonne, Becomes a sonne and makes your sonne a shadow: I do protest I neuer lou'd my selfe Till now, infixed I beheld my selfe, Drawne in the flattering table of her eie.

Whispers with Blanch.

Bast. Drawne in the flattering table of her eie, Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, And quarter'd in her heart, hee doth espie Himselfe loues traytor, this is pittie now; That hang'd, and drawne, and quarter'd there should be In such a loue, so vile a Lout as he

Blan. My vnckles will in this respect is mine, If he see ought in you that makes him like, That any thing he see's which moues his liking, I can with ease translate it to my will: Or if you will, to speake more properly, I will enforce it easlie to my loue. Further I will not flatter you, my Lord, That all I see in you is worthie loue, Then this, that nothing do I see in you, Though churlish thoughts themselues should bee your Iudge, That I can finde, should merit any hate

Iohn. What saie these yong-ones? What say you my Neece? Blan. That she is bound in honor still to do What you in wisedome still vouchsafe to say

Iohn. Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue this Ladie? Dol. Nay aske me if I can refraine from loue, For I doe loue her most vnfainedly

Iohn. Then I doe giue Volquessen, Toraine, Maine, Poyctiers and Aniow, these fiue Prouinces With her to thee, and this addition more, Full thirty thousand Markes of English coyne: Phillip of France, if thou be pleas'd withall, Command thy sonne and daughter to ioyne hands

Fra. It likes vs well young Princes: close your hands Aust. And your lippes too, for I am well assur'd, That I did so when I was first assur'd

Fra. Now Cittizens of Angires ope your gates, Let in that amitie which you haue made, For at Saint Maries Chappell presently, The rights of marriage shallbe solemniz'd. Is not the Ladie Constance in this troope? I know she is not for this match made vp, Her presence would haue interrupted much. Where is she and her sonne, tell me, who knowes? Dol. She is sad and passionate at your highnes Tent

Fra. And by my faith, this league that we haue made Will giue her sadnesse very little cure: Brother of England, how may we content This widdow Lady? In her right we came, Which we God knowes, haue turn'd another way, To our owne vantage

Iohn. We will heale vp all, For wee'l create yong Arthur Duke of Britaine And Earle of Richmond, and this rich faire Towne We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Constance, Some speedy Messenger bid her repaire To our solemnity: I trust we shall, (If not fill vp the measure of her will) Yet in some measure satisfie her so, That we shall stop her exclamation, Go we as well as hast will suffer vs, To this vnlook'd for vnprepared pompe.

Exeunt.

Bast. Mad world, mad kings, mad composition: Iohn to stop Arthurs Title in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part, And France, whose armour Conscience buckled on, Whom zeale and charitie brought to the field, As Gods owne souldier, rounded in the eare, With that same purpose-changer, that slye diuel, That Broker, that still breakes the pate of faith, That dayly breake-vow, he that winnes of all, Of kings, of beggers, old men, yong men, maids, Who hauing no externall thing to loose, But the word Maid, cheats the poore Maide of that. That smooth-fac'd Gentleman, tickling commoditie, Commoditie, the byas of the world, The world, who of it selfe is peysed well, Made to run euen, vpon euen ground; Till this aduantage, this vile drawing byas, This sway of motion, this commoditie, Makes it take head from all indifferency, From all direction, purpose, course, intent. And this same byas, this Commoditie, This Bawd, this Broker, this all-changing-word, Clap'd on the outward eye of fickle France, Hath drawne him from his owne determin'd ayd, From a resolu'd and honourable warre, To a most base and vile-concluded peace. And why rayle I on this Commoditie? But for because he hath not wooed me yet: Not that I haue the power to clutch my hand, When his faire Angels would salute my palme, But for my hand, as vnattempted yet, Like a poore begger, raileth on the rich. Well, whiles I am a begger, I will raile, And say there is no sin but to be rich: And being rich, my vertue then shall be, To say there is no vice, but beggerie: Since Kings breake faith vpon commoditie, Gaine be my Lord, for I will worship thee. Enter.

Actus Secundus

Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.

Con. Gone to be married? Gone to sweare a peace? False blood to false blood ioyn'd. Gone to be freinds? Shall Lewis haue Blaunch, and Blaunch those Prouinces? It is not so, thou hast mispoke, misheard, Be well aduis'd, tell ore thy tale againe. It cannot be, thou do'st but say 'tis so. I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word Is but the vaine breath of a common man: Beleeue me, I doe not beleeue thee man, I haue a Kings oath to the contrarie. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sicke, and capeable of feares, Opprest with wrongs, and therefore full of feares, A widdow, husbandles, subiect to feares, A woman naturally borne to feares; And though thou now confesse thou didst but iest With my vext spirits, I cannot take a Truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day. What dost thou meane by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou looke so sadly on my sonne? What meanes that hand vpon that breast of thine? Why holdes thine eie that lamentable rhewme, Like a proud riuer peering ore his bounds? Be these sad signes confirmers of thy words? Then speake againe, not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true

Sal. As true as I beleeue you thinke them false, That giue you cause to proue my saying true

Con. Oh if thou teach me to beleeue this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me dye, And let beleefe, and life encounter so, As doth the furie of two desperate men, Which in the very meeting fall, and dye. Lewes marry Blaunch? O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England, what becomes of me? Fellow be gone: I cannot brooke thy sight, This newes hath made thee a most vgly man

Sal. What other harme haue I good Lady done, But spoke the harme, that is by others done? Con. Which harme within it selfe so heynous is, As it makes harmefull all that speake of it

Ar. I do beseech you Madam be content

Con. If thou that bidst me be content, wert grim Vgly, and slandrous to thy Mothers wombe, Full of vnpleasing blots, and sightlesse staines, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd with foule Moles, and eye-offending markes, I would not care, I then would be content, For then I should not loue thee: no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserue a Crowne. But thou art faire, and at thy birth (deere boy) Nature and Fortune ioyn'd to make thee great. Of Natures guifts, thou mayst with Lillies boast, And with the halfe-blowne Rose. But Fortune, oh, She is corrupted, chang'd, and wonne from thee, Sh' adulterates hourely with thine Vnckle Iohn, And with her golden hand hath pluckt on France To tread downe faire respect of Soueraigntie, And made his Maiestie the bawd to theirs. France is a Bawd to Fortune, and king Iohn, That strumpet Fortune, that vsurping Iohn: Tell me thou fellow, is not France forsworne? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone, And leaue those woes alone, which I alone Am bound to vnder-beare

Sal. Pardon me Madam, I may not goe without you to the kings

Con. Thou maist, thou shalt, I will not go with thee, I will instruct my sorrowes to bee proud, For greefe is proud, and makes his owner stoope, To me and to the state of my great greefe, Lets kings assemble: for my greefe's so great, That no supporter but the huge firme earth Can hold it vp: here I and sorrowes sit, Heere is my Throne bid kings come bow to it.

Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.

Enter King Iohn, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip, Austria, Constance.

Fran. 'Tis true (faire daughter) and this blessed day, Euer in France shall be kept festiuall: To solemnize this day the glorious sunne Stayes in his course, and playes the Alchymist, Turning with splendor of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearely course that brings this day about, Shall neuer see it, but a holy day

Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day. What hath this day deseru'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the Kalender? Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke, This day of shame, oppression, periury. Or if it must stand still, let wiues with childe Pray that their burthens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crost: But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke, No bargaines breake that are not this day made; This day all things begun, come to ill end, Yea, faith it selfe to hollow falshood change

Fra. By heauen Lady, you shall haue no cause To curse the faire proceedings of this day: Haue I not pawn'd to you my Maiesty? Const. You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling Maiesty, which being touch'd and tride, Proues valuelesse: you are forsworne, forsworne, You came in Armes to spill mine enemies bloud, But now in Armes, you strengthen it with yours. The grapling vigor, and rough frowne of Warre Is cold in amitie, and painted peace, And our oppression hath made vp this league: Arme, arme, you heauens, against these periur'd Kings, A widdow cries, be husband to me (heauens) Let not the howres of this vngodly day Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-set, Set armed discord 'twixt these periur'd Kings, Heare me, Oh, heare me

Aust. Lady Constance, peace

Const. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre: O Lymoges, O Austria, thou dost shame That bloudy spoyle: thou slaue, thou wretch, y coward, Thou little valiant, great in villanie, Thou euer strong vpon the stronger side; Thou Fortunes Champion, that do'st neuer fight But when her humourous Ladiship is by To teach thee safety: thou art periur'd too, And sooth'st vp greatnesse. What a foole art thou, A ramping foole, to brag, and stamp, and sweare, Vpon my partie: thou cold blooded slaue, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Beene sworne my Souldier, bidding me depend Vpon thy starres, thy fortune, and thy strength, And dost thou now fall ouer to my foes? Thou weare a Lyons hide, doff it for shame, And hang a Calues skin on those recreant limbes

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

Gaunt. Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous Be swift like lightning in the execution, And let thy blowes doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy. Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue

Bul. Mine innocence, and S[aint]. George to thriue

Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot, There liues, or dies, true to Kings Richards Throne, A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman: Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart, Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement, More then my dancing soule doth celebrate This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie. Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres, Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares, As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest, Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest

Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye: Order the triall Marshall, and begin

Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right

Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen

Mar. Go beare this Lance to Thomas D[uke]. of Norfolke

1.Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe, On paine to be found false, and recreant, To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray, A Traitor to his God, his King, and him, And dares him to set forwards to the fight

2.Har. Here standeth Tho[mas]: Mowbray Duke of Norfolk On paine to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himselfe, and to approue Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall: Couragiously, and with a free desire Attending but the signall to begin.

A charge sounded

Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants: Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe

Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares, And both returne backe to their Chaires againe: Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound, While we returne these Dukes what we decree.

A long Flourish.

Draw neere and list What with our Councell we haue done. For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld With that deere blood which it hath fostered, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords, Which so rouz'd vp with boystrous vntun'd drummes, With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray, And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes, Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace, And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood: Therefore, we banish you our Territories. You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death, Till twice fiue Summers haue enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our faire dominions, But treade the stranger pathes of banishment

Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me: And those his golden beames to you heere lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment

Rich. Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe, Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce, The slye slow houres shall not determinate The datelesse limit of thy deere exile: The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne, Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life

Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege, And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth: A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime, As to be cast forth in the common ayre Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands. The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares (My natiue English) now I must forgo, And now my tongues vse is to me no more, Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe, Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp, Or being open, put into his hands That knowes no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue, Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes, And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance, Is made my Gaoler to attend on me: I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse, Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now: What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death, Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath? Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate, After our sentence, plaining comes too late

Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night

Ric. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands; Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen (Our part therein we banish with your selues) To keepe the Oath that we administer: You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen) Embrace each others loue in banishment, Nor euer looke vpon each others face, Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate, Nor euer by aduised purpose meete, To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, 'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land

Bull. I sweare

Mow. And I, to keepe all this

Bul. Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the King permitted vs) One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land. Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soule

Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the booke of Life, And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way. Enter.

Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect, Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent, Returne with welcome home, from banishment

Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings

Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile: But little vantage shall I reape thereby. For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night: My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne

Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue

Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow, And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath

Ric. Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue, Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre? Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather You would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine owne away: But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong

Rich. Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go. Enter.

Flourish.

Au. Cosine farewell: what presence must not know From where you do remaine, let paper show

Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride As farre as land will let me, by your side

Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends? Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you, When the tongues office should be prodigall, To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart

Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time

Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time

Gau. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone? Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten

Gau. Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure

Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage

Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set The precious Iewell of thy home returne

Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frostie Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bare imagination of a Feast? Or Wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantasticke summers heate? Oh no, the apprehension of the good Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore

Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay

Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet: Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a true-borne Englishman.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.

Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so) But to the next high way, and there I left him

Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind Which then grew bitterly against our face, Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance Did grace our hollow parting with a teare

Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him? Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y my tongue Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such greefe, That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his short banishment, He should haue had a volume of Farwels, But since it would not, he had none of me

Rich. He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends, Our selfe, and Bushy: heere Bagot and Greene Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people: How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, With humble, and familiar courtesie, What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; Wooing poore Craftes-men, with the craft of soules, And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune, As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster-wench, A brace of Dray-men bid God speed him well, And had the tribute of his supple knee, With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends, As were our England in reuersion his, And he our subiects next degree in hope

Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts: Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made my Liege Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse

Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre, And for our Coffers, with too great a Court, And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light, We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme, The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs For our affayres in hand: if that come short Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke-charters: Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold, And send them after to supply our wants: For we will make for Ireland presently. Enter Bushy.

Bushy, what newes? Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord, Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste To entreat your Maiesty to visit him

Ric. Where lyes he? Bu. At Ely house

Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde, To helpe him to his graue immediately: The lining of his coffers shall make Coates To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres. Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him: Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late. Enter.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.

Gau. Will the King come, that I may breath my last In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth? Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth, For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare

Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men Inforce attention like deepe harmony; Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine. He that no more must say, is listen'd more, Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose, More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, The setting Sun, and Musicke in the close As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare, My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare

Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds As praises of his state: then there are found Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen. Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation Limpes after in base imitation. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, So it be new, there's no respect how vile, That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? That all too late comes counsell to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wits regard: Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose

Gaunt. Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, And thus expiring, do foretell of him, His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, For violent fires soone burne out themselues, Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short, He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder: Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle, This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars, This other Eden, demy paradise, This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, Against infection, and the hand of warre: This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone, set in the siluer sea, Which serues it in the office of a wall, Or as a Moate defensiue to a house, Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England, This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth, Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. This Land of such deere soules, this deere-deere Land, Deere for her reputation through the world, Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it) Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme. England bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death? Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby.

Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more

Qu. How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster? Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt? Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast, And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time haue I watcht, Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt. The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, Is my strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes, And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones

Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names? Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe: Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee, I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee

Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue? Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye

Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me

Gau. Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be

Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill

Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill: Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill, Thy death-bed is no lesser then the Land, Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke, And thou too care-lesse patient as thou art, Commit'st thy 'anointed body to the cure Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne, Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head, And yet incaged in so small a Verge, The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land: Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye, Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes, From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possest, Which art possest now to depose thy selfe. Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world, It were a shame to let his Land by lease: But for thy world enioying but this Land, Is it not more then shame, to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law, And- Rich. And thou, a lunaticke leane-witted foole, Presuming on an Agues priuiledge, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheeke, chasing the Royall blood With fury, from his natiue residence? Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie, Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy head from thy vnreuerent shoulders

Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne, For that I was his Father Edwards sonne: That blood already (like the Pellican) Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule (Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules) May be a president, and witnesse good, That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood: Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue, And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age, To crop at once a too-long wither'd flowre. Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee, These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue, Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.

Exit

Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue, For both hast thou, and both become the graue

Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him: He loues you on my life, and holds you deere As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere

Rich. Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his; As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is. Enter Northumberland.

Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie

Rich. What sayes he? Nor. Nay nothing, all is said: His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument, Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent

Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so, Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo

Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he, His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: So much for that. Now for our Irish warres, We must supplant those rough rug-headed Kernes, Which liue like venom, where no venom else But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue. And for these great affayres do aske some charge Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables, Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest

Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong? Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment, Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs, Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke, About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace Haue euer made me sowre my patient cheeke, Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face: I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes, Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first, In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce: In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde, Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman, His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he Accomplish'd with the number of thy howers: But when he frown'd, it was against the French, And not against his friends: his noble hand Did win what he did spend: and spent not that Which his triumphant fathers hand had won: His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kinne: Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe, Or else he neuer would compare betweene

Rich. Why Vncle, What's the matter? Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all: Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford? Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Herford liue? Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true? Did not the one deserue to haue an heyre? Is not his heyre a well-deseruing sonne? Take Herfords rights away, and take from time His Charters, and his customarie rights: Let not to morrow then insue to day, Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King But by faire sequence and succession? Now afore God, God forbid I say true, If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right, Call in his Letters Patents that he hath By his Atturneyes generall, to sue His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage, You plucke a thousand dangers on your head, You loose a thousand well-disposed hearts, And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke

Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands, His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands

Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell, What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell. But by bad courses may be vnderstood, That their euents can neuer fall out good. Enter.

Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house, To see this businesse: to morrow next We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: And we create in absence of our selfe Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well. Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part, Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

Flourish.

Manet North. Willoughby, & Ross.

Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead

Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke

Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew

Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right

Ross. My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue

Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme

Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du[ke]. of Hereford, If it be so, out with it boldly man, Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him

Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie

Nor. Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne. In him a royall Prince, and many moe Of noble blood in this declining Land; The King is not himselfe, but basely led By Flatterers, and what they will informe Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all, That will the King seuerely prosecute 'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires

Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts

Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, As blankes, beneuolences, and I wot not what: But what o' Gods name doth become of this? Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not. But basely yeelded vpon comprimize, That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres

Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme

Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man

Nor. Reproach, and dissolution hangeth ouer him

Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: (His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke

Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King: But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but securely perish

Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer, And vnauoyded is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke

Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life peering: but I dare not say How neere the tidings of our comfort is

Wil. Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold

Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston, Sir Iohn Norberie, & Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore: Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake, Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing, Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne, Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe, Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh, But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go

Ros. To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y feare

Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Queene, Bushy, and Bagot.

Bush. Madam, your Maiesty is too much sad, You promis'd when you parted with the King, To lay aside selfe-harming heauinesse, And entertaine a cheerefull disposition

Qu. To please the King, I did: to please my selfe I cannot do it: yet I know no cause Why I should welcome such a guest as greefe, Saue bidding farewell to so sweet a guest As my sweet Richard; yet againe me thinkes, Some vnborne sorrow, ripe in fortunes wombe Is comming towards me, and my inward soule With nothing trembles, at something it greeues, More then with parting from my Lord the King

Bush. Each substance of a greefe hath twenty shadows Which shewes like greefe it selfe, but is not so: For sorrowes eye, glazed with blinding teares, Diuides one thing intire, to many obiects, Like perspectiues, which rightly gaz'd vpon Shew nothing but confusion, ey'd awry, Distinguish forme: so your sweet Maiestie Looking awry vpon your Lords departure, Finde shapes of greefe, more then himselfe to waile, Which look'd on as it is, is naught but shadowes Of what it is not: then thrice-gracious Queene, More then your Lords departure weep not, more's not seene; Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrowes eie, Which for things true, weepe things imaginary

Qu. It may be so: but yet my inward soule Perswades me it is otherwise: how ere it be, I cannot but be sad: so heauy sad, As though on thinking on no thought I thinke, Makes me with heauy nothing faint and shrinke

Bush. 'Tis nothing but conceit (my gracious Lady.) Qu. 'Tis nothing lesse: conceit is still deriu'd From some fore-father greefe, mine is not so, For nothing hath begot my something greefe, Or something, hath the nothing that I greeue, 'Tis in reuersion that I do possesse, But what it is, that is not yet knowne, what I cannot name, 'tis namelesse woe I wot. Enter Greene.

Gree. Heauen saue your Maiesty, and wel met Gentlemen: I hope the King is not yet shipt for Ireland

Qu. Why hop'st thou so? Tis better hope he is: For his designes craue hast, his hast good hope, Then wherefore dost thou hope he is not shipt? Gre. That he our hope, might haue retyr'd his power, and driuen into dispaire an enemies hope, Who strongly hath set footing in this Land. The banish'd Bullingbrooke repeales himselfe, And with vp-lifted Armes is safe arriu'd At Rauenspurg

Qu. Now God in heauen forbid

Gr. O Madam 'tis too true: and that is worse, The L[ord]. Northumberland, his yong sonne Henrie Percie, The Lords of Rosse, Beaumond, and Willoughby, With all their powrefull friends are fled to him

Bush. Why haue you not proclaim'd Northumberland And the rest of the reuolted faction, Traitors? Gre. We haue: whereupon the Earle of Worcester Hath broke his staffe, resign'd his Stewardship, And al the houshold seruants fled with him to Bullinbrook Qu. So Greene, thou art the midwife of my woe, And Bullinbrooke my sorrowes dismall heyre: Now hath my soule brought forth her prodegie, And I a gasping new deliuered mother, Haue woe to woe, sorrow to sorrow ioyn'd

Bush. Dispaire not Madam

Qu. Who shall hinder me? I will dispaire, and be at enmitie With couzening hope; he is a Flatterer, A Parasite, a keeper backe of death, Who gently would dissolue the bands of life, Which false hopes linger in extremity. Enter Yorke.

Gre. Heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Qu. With signes of warre about his aged necke, Oh full of carefull businesse are his lookes: Vncle, for heauens sake speake comfortable words: Yor. Comfort's in heauen, and we are on the earth, Where nothing liues but crosses, care and greefe: Your husband he is gone to saue farre off, Whilst others come to make him loose at home: Heere am I left to vnder-prop his Land, Who weake with age, cannot support my selfe: Now comes the sicke houre that his surfet made, Now shall he try his friends that flattered him. Enter a seruant.

Ser. My Lord, your sonne was gone before I came

Yor. He was: why so: go all which way it will: The Nobles they are fled, the Commons they are cold, And will I feare reuolt on Herfords side. Sirra, get thee to Plashie to my sister Gloster, Bid her send me presently a thousand pound, Hold, take my Ring

Ser. My Lord, I had forgot To tell your Lordship, to day I came by, and call'd there, But I shall greeue you to report the rest

Yor. What is't knaue? Ser. An houre before I came, the Dutchesse di'de

Yor. Heau'n for his mercy, what a tide of woes Come rushing on this wofull Land at once? I know not what to do: I would to heauen (So my vntruth had not prouok'd him to it) The King had cut off my head with my brothers. What, are there postes dispatcht for Ireland? How shall we do for money for these warres? Come sister (Cozen I would say) pray pardon me. Go fellow, get thee home, prouide some Carts, And bring away the Armour that is there. Gentlemen, will you muster men? If I know how, or which way to order these affaires Thus disorderly thrust into my hands, Neuer beleeue me. Both are my kinsmen, Th' one is my Soueraigne, whom both my oath And dutie bids defend: th' other againe Is my kinsman, whom the King hath wrong'd, Whom conscience, and my kindred bids to right: Well, somewhat we must do: Come Cozen, Ile dispose of you. Gentlemen, go muster vp your men, And meet me presently at Barkley Castle: I should to Plashy too: but time will not permit, All is vneuen, and euery thing is left at six and seuen.

Exit

Bush. The winde sits faire for newes to go to Ireland, But none returnes: For vs to leuy power Proportionable to th' enemy, is all impossible

Gr. Besides our neerenesse to the King in loue, Is neere the hate of those loue not the King

Ba. And that's the wauering Commons, for their loue Lies in their purses, and who so empties them, By so much fils their hearts with deadly hate

Bush. Wherein the king stands generally condemn'd Bag. If iudgement lye in them, then so do we, Because we haue beene euer neere the King

Gr. Well: I will for refuge straight to Bristoll Castle, The Earle of Wiltshire is alreadie there

Bush. Thither will I with you, for little office Will the hatefull Commons performe for vs, Except like Curres, to teare vs all in peeces: Will you go along with vs? Bag. No, I will to Ireland to his Maiestie: Farewell, if hearts presages be not vaine, We three here part, that neu'r shall meete againe

Bu. That's as Yorke thriues to beate back Bullinbroke Gr. Alas poore Duke, the taske he vndertakes Is numbring sands, and drinking Oceans drie, Where one on his side fights, thousands will flye

Bush. Farewell at once, for once, for all, and euer. Well, we may meete againe

Bag. I feare me neuer. Enter.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter the Duke of Hereford, and Northumberland.

Bul. How farre is it my Lord to Berkley now? Nor. Beleeue me noble Lord, I am a stranger heere in Gloustershire, These high wilde hilles, and rough vneeuen waies, Drawes out our miles, and makes them wearisome. And yet our faire discourse hath beene as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable: But I bethinke me, what a wearie way From Rauenspurgh to Cottshold will be found, In Rosse and Willoughby, wanting your companie, Which I protest hath very much beguild The tediousnesse, and processe of my trauell: But theirs is sweetned with the hope to haue The present benefit that I possesse; And hope to ioy, is little lesse in ioy, Then hope enioy'd: By this, the wearie Lords Shall make their way seeme short, as mine hath done, By sight of what I haue, your Noble Companie

Bull. Of much lesse value is my Companie, Then your good words: but who comes here?

Enter H[arry]. Percie.

North. It is my Sonne, young Harry Percie, Sent from my Brother Worcester: Whence soeuer. Harry, how fares your Vnckle? Percie. I had thought, my Lord, to haue learn'd his health of you

North. Why, is he not with the Queene? Percie. No, my good Lord, he hath forsook the Court, Broken his Staffe of Office, and disperst The Household of the King

North. What was his reason? He was not so resolu'd, when we last spake together

Percie. Because your Lordship was proclaimed Traitor. But hee, my Lord, is gone to Rauenspurgh, To offer seruice to the Duke of Hereford, And sent me ouer by Barkely, to discouer What power the Duke of Yorke had leuied there, Then with direction to repaire to Rauenspurgh

North. Haue you forgot the Duke of Hereford (Boy.) Percie. No, my good Lord; for that is not forgot Which ne're I did remember: to my knowledge, I neuer in my life did looke on him

North. Then learne to know him now: this is the Duke

Percie. My gracious Lord, I tender you my seruice, Such as it is, being tender, raw, and young, Which elder dayes shall ripen, and confirme To more approued seruice, and desert

Bull. I thanke thee gentle Percie, and be sure I count my selfe in nothing else so happy, As in a Soule remembring my good Friends: And as my Fortune ripens with thy Loue, It shall be still thy true Loues recompence, My Heart this Couenant makes, my Hand thus seales it

North. How farre is it to Barkely? and what stirre Keepes good old Yorke there, with his Men of Warre? Percie. There stands the Castle, by yond tuft of Trees, Mann'd with three hundred men, as I haue heard, And in it are the Lords of Yorke, Barkely, and Seymor, None else of Name, and noble estimate. Enter Rosse and Willoughby.

North. Here come the Lords of Rosse and Willoughby, Bloody with spurring, fierie red with haste

Bull. Welcome my Lords, I wot your loue pursues A banisht Traytor; all my Treasurie Is yet but vnfelt thankes, which more enrich'd, Shall be your loue, and labours recompence

Ross. Your presence makes vs rich, most Noble Lord

Willo. And farre surmounts our labour to attaine it

Bull. Euermore thankes, th' Exchequer of the poore, Which till my infant-fortune comes to yeeres, Stands for my Bountie: but who comes here? Enter Barkely.

North. It is my Lord of Barkely, as I ghesse

Bark. My Lord of Hereford, my Message is to you

Bull. My Lord, my Answere is to Lancaster, And I am come to seeke that Name in England, And I must finde that Title in your Tongue, Before I make reply to aught you say

Bark. Mistake me not, my Lord, 'tis not my meaning To raze one Title of your Honor out. To you, my Lord, I come (what Lord you will) From the most glorious of this Land, The Duke of Yorke, to know what pricks you on To take aduantage of the absent time, And fright our Natiue Peace with selfe-borne Armes. Enter Yorke.

Bull. I shall not need transport my words by you, Here comes his Grace in Person. My Noble Vnckle

York. Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee, Whose dutie is deceiuable, and false

Bull. My gracious Vnckle

York. Tut, tut, Grace me no Grace, nor Vnckle me, I am no Traytors Vnckle; and that word Grace, In an vngracious mouth, is but prophane. Why haue these banish'd, and forbidden Legges, Dar'd once to touch a Dust of Englands Ground? But more then why, why haue they dar'd to march So many miles vpon her peacefull Bosome, Frighting her pale-fac'd Villages with Warre, And ostentation of despised Armes? Com'st thou because th' anoynted King is hence? Why foolish Boy, the King is left behind, And in my loyall Bosome lyes his power. Were I but now the Lord of such hot youth, As when braue Gaunt, thy Father, and my selfe Rescued the Black Prince, that yong Mars of men, From forth the Rankes of many thousand French: Oh then, how quickly should this Arme of mine, Now Prisoner to the Palsie, chastise thee, And minister correction to thy Fault

Bull. My gracious Vnckle, let me know my Fault, On what Condition stands it, and wherein? York. Euen in Condition of the worst degree, In grosse Rebellion, and detested Treason: Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come Before th' expiration of thy time, In brauing Armes against thy Soueraigne

Bull. As I was banish'd, I was banish'd Hereford, But as I come, I come for Lancaster. And Noble Vnckle, I beseech your Grace Looke on my Wrongs with an indifferent eye: You are my Father, for me thinkes in you I see old Gaunt aliue. Oh then my Father, Will you permit, that I shall stand condemn'd A wandring Vagabond; my Rights and Royalties Pluckt from my armes perforce, and giuen away To vpstart Vnthrifts? Wherefore was I borne? If that my Cousin King, be King of England, It must be graunted, I am Duke of Lancaster. You haue a Sonne, Aumerle, my Noble Kinsman, Had you first died, and he beene thus trod downe, He should haue found his Vnckle Gaunt a Father, To rowze his Wrongs, and chase them to the bay. I am denyde to sue my Liuerie here, And yet my Letters Patents giue me leaue: My Fathers goods are all distraynd, and sold, And these, and all, are all amisse imployd. What would you haue me doe? I am a Subiect, And challenge Law: Attorneyes are deny'd me; And therefore personally I lay my claime To my Inheritance of free Discent

North. The Noble Duke hath been too much abus'd

Ross. It stands your Grace vpon, to doe him right

Willo. Base men by his endowments are made great

York. My Lords of England, let me tell you this, I haue had feeling of my Cosens Wrongs, And labour'd all I could to doe him right: But in this kind, to come in brauing Armes, Be his owne Caruer, and cut out his way, To find out Right with Wrongs, it may not be; And you that doe abett him in this kind, Cherish Rebellion, and are Rebels all

North. The Noble Duke hath sworne his comming is But for his owne; and for the right of that, Wee all haue strongly sworne to giue him ayd, And let him neu'r see Ioy, that breakes that Oath

York. Well, well, I see the issue of these Armes, I cannot mend it, I must needes confesse, Because my power is weake, and all ill left: But if I could, by him that gaue me life, I would attach you all, and make you stoope Vnto the Soueraigne Mercy of the King. But since I cannot, be it knowne to you, I doe remaine as Neuter. So fare you well, Vnlesse you please to enter in the Castle, And there repose you for this Night

Bull. An offer Vnckle, that wee will accept: But wee must winne your Grace to goe with vs To Bristow Castle, which they say is held By Bushie, Bagot, and their Complices, The Caterpillers of the Commonwealth, Which I haue sworne to weed, and plucke away

York. It may be I will go with you: but yet Ile pawse, For I am loth to breake our Countries Lawes: Nor Friends, nor Foes, to me welcome you are, Things past redresse, are now with me past care.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter Salisbury, and a Captaine.

Capt. My Lord of Salisbury, we haue stayd ten dayes, And hardly kept our Countreymen together, And yet we heare no tidings from the King; Therefore we will disperse our selues: farewell

Sal. Stay yet another day, thou trustie Welchman, The King reposeth all his confidence in thee

Capt. 'Tis thought the King is dead, we will not stay; The Bay-trees in our Countrey all are wither'd, And Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heauen; The pale-fac'd Moone lookes bloody on the Earth, And leane-look'd Prophets whisper fearefull change; Rich men looke sad, and Ruffians dance and leape, The one in feare, to loose what they enioy, The other to enioy by Rage, and Warre: These signes fore-run the death of Kings. Farewell, our Countreymen are gone and fled, As well assur'd Richard their King is dead. Enter.

Sal. Ah Richard, with eyes of heauie mind, I see thy Glory, like a shooting Starre, Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament: Thy Sunne sets weeping in the lowly West, Witnessing Stormes to come, Woe, and Vnrest: Thy Friends are fled, to wait vpon thy Foes, And crossely to thy good, all fortune goes. Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Rosse, Percie, Willoughby, with Bushie and Greene Prisoners.

Bull. Bring forth these men: Bushie and Greene, I will not vex your soules, (Since presently your soules must part your bodies) With too much vrging your pernitious liues, For 'twere no Charitie: yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men, I will vnfold some causes of your deaths. You haue mis-led a Prince, a Royall King, A happie Gentleman in Blood, and Lineaments, By you vnhappied, and disfigur'd cleane: You haue in manner with your sinfull houres Made a Diuorce betwixt his Queene and him, Broke the possession of a Royall Bed, And stayn'd the beautie of a faire Queenes Cheekes, With teares drawn fro[m] her eyes, with your foule wrongs. My selfe a Prince, by fortune of my birth, Neere to the King in blood, and neere in loue, Till you did make him mis-interprete me, Haue stoopt my neck vnder your iniuries, And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment; While you haue fed vpon my Seignories, Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods; From mine owne Windowes torne my Household Coat, Raz'd out my Impresse, leauing me no signe, Saue mens opinions, and my liuing blood, To shew the World I am a Gentleman. This, and much more, much more then twice all this, Condemnes you to the death: see them deliuered ouer To execution, and the hand of death

Bushie. More welcome is the stroake of death to me, Then Bullingbrooke to England

Greene. My comfort is, that Heauen will take our soules, And plague Iniustice with the paines of Hell

Bull. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatch'd: Vnckle, you say the Queene is at your House, For Heauens sake fairely let her be entreated, Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take speciall care my Greetings be deliuer'd

York. A Gentleman of mine I haue dispatch'd With Letters of your loue, to her at large

Bull. Thankes gentle Vnckle: come Lords away, To fight with Glendoure, and his Complices; A while to worke, and after holliday.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Drums: Flourish, and Colours. Enter Richard, Aumerle, Carlile, and Souldiers.

Rich. Barkloughly Castle call you this at hand? Au. Yea, my Lord: how brooks your Grace the ayre, After your late tossing on the breaking Seas? Rich. Needs must I like it well: I weepe for ioy To stand vpon my Kingdome once againe. Deere Earth, I doe salute thee with my hand, Though Rebels wound thee with their Horses hoofes: As a long parted Mother with her Child, Playes fondly with her teares, and smiles in meeting; So weeping, smiling, greet I thee my Earth, And doe thee fauor with my Royall hands. Feed not thy Soueraignes Foe, my gentle Earth, Nor with thy Sweetes, comfort his rauenous sence: But let thy Spiders, that suck vp thy Venome, And heauie-gated Toades lye in their way, Doing annoyance to the trecherous feete, Which with vsurping steps doe trample thee. Yeeld stinging Nettles to mine Enemies; And when they from thy Bosome pluck a Flower, Guard it I prethee with a lurking Adder, Whose double tongue may with a mortall touch Throw death vpon thy Soueraignes Enemies. Mock not my sencelesse Coniuration, Lords; This Earth shall haue a feeling, and these Stones Proue armed Souldiers, ere her Natiue King Shall falter vnder foule Rebellious Armes

Car. Feare not my Lord, that Power that made you King Hath power to keepe you King, in spight of all

Aum. He meanes, my Lord, that we are too remisse, Whilest Bullingbrooke through our securitie, Growes strong and great, in substance and in friends

Rich. Discomfortable Cousin, knowest thou not, That when the searching Eye of Heauen is hid Behind the Globe, that lights the lower World, Then Theeues and Robbers raunge abroad vnseene, In Murthers and in Out-rage bloody here: But when from vnder this Terrestriall Ball He fires the prowd tops of the Easterne Pines, And darts his Lightning through eu'ry guiltie hole, Then Murthers, Treasons, and detested sinnes (The Cloake of Night being pluckt from off their backs) Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselues. So when this Theefe, this Traytor Bullingbrooke, Who all this while hath reuell'd in the Night, Shall see vs rising in our Throne, the East, His Treasons will sit blushing in his face, Not able to endure the sight of Day; But selfe-affrighted, tremble at his sinne. Not all the Water in the rough rude Sea Can wash the Balme from an anoynted King; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The Deputie elected by the Lord: For euery man that Bullingbrooke hath prest, To lift shrewd Steele against our Golden Crowne, Heauen for his Richard hath in heauenly pay A glorious Angell: then if Angels fight, Weake men must fall, for Heauen still guards the right. Enter Salisbury.

Welcome my Lord, how farre off lyes your Power? Salisb. Nor neere, nor farther off, my gracious Lord, Then this weake arme; discomfort guides my tongue, And bids me speake of nothing but despaire: One day too late, I feare (my Noble Lord) Hath clouded all thy happie dayes on Earth: Oh call backe Yesterday, bid Time returne, And thou shalt haue twelue thousand fighting men: To day, to day, vnhappie day too late Orethrowes thy Ioyes, Friends, Fortune, and thy State; For all the Welchmen hearing thou wert dead, Are gone to Bullingbrooke, disperst, and fled

Aum. Comfort my Liege, why lookes your Grace so pale? Rich. But now the blood of twentie thousand men Did triumph in my face, and they are fled, And till so much blood thither come againe, Haue I not reason to looke pale, and dead? All Soules that will be safe, flye from my side, For Time hath set a blot vpon my pride

Aum. Comfort my Liege, remember who you are

Rich. I had forgot my selfe. Am I not King? Awake thou sluggard Maiestie, thou sleepest: Is not the Kings Name fortie thousand Names? Arme, arme my Name: a punie subiect strikes At thy great glory. Looke not to the ground, Ye Fauorites of a King: are wee not high? High be our thoughts: I know my Vnckle Yorke Hath Power enough to serue our turne. But who comes here? Enter Scroope.

Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege, Then can my care-tun'd tongue deliuer him

Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd: The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold: Say, Is my Kingdome lost? why 'twas my Care: And what losse is it to be rid of Care? Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee? Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God, Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so. Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend, They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs: Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay, The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day

Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd To beare the tidings of Calamitie. Like an vnseasonable stormie day, Which make the Siluer Riuers drowne their Shores, As if the World were all dissolu'd to teares: So high, aboue his Limits, swells the Rage Of Bullingbrooke, couering your fearefull Land With hard bright Steele, and hearts harder then Steele: White Beares haue arm'd their thin and hairelesse Scalps Against thy Maiestie, and Boyes with Womens Voyces, Striue to speake bigge, and clap their female ioints In stiffe vnwieldie Armes: against thy Crowne Thy very Beads-men learne to bend their Bowes Of double fatall Eugh: against thy State Yea Distaffe-Women manage rustie Bills: Against thy Seat both young and old rebell, And all goes worse then I haue power to tell

Rich. Too well, too well thou tell'st a Tale so ill. Where is the Earle of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? What is become of Bushie? where is Greene? That they haue let the dangerous Enemie Measure our Confines with such peacefull steps? If we preuaile, their heads shall pay for it. I warrant they haue made peace with Bullingbrooke

Scroope. Peace haue they made with him indeede (my Lord.) Rich. Oh Villains, Vipers, damn'd without redemption, Dogges, easily woon to fawne on any man, Snakes in my heart blood warm'd, that sting my heart, Three Iudasses, each one thrice worse then Iudas, Would they make peace? terrible Hell make warre Vpon their spotted Soules for this Offence

Scroope. Sweet Loue (I see) changing his propertie, Turnes to the sowrest, and most deadly hate: Againe vncurse their Soules; their peace is made With Heads, and not with Hands: those whom you curse Haue felt the worst of Deaths destroying hand, And lye full low, grau'd in the hollow ground

Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire dead? Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads

Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power? Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake: Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs, Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth. Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills: And yet not so; for what can we bequeath, Saue our deposed bodies to the ground? Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes, And nothing can we call our owne, but Death, And that small Modell of the barren Earth, Which serues as Paste, and Couer to our Bones: For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground, And tell sad stories of the death of Kings: How some haue been depos'd, some slaine in warre, Some haunted by the Ghosts they haue depos'd, Some poyson'd by their Wiues, some sleeping kill'd, All murther'd. For within the hollow Crowne That rounds the mortall Temples of a King, Keepes Death his Court, and there the Antique sits Scoffing his State, and grinning at his Pompe, Allowing him a breath, a little Scene, To Monarchize, be fear'd, and kill with lookes, Infusing him with selfe and vaine conceit, As if this Flesh, which walls about our Life, Were Brasse impregnable: and humor'd thus, Comes at the last, and with a little Pinne Bores through his Castle Walls, and farwell King. Couer your heads, and mock not flesh and blood With solemne Reuerence: throw away Respect, Tradition, Forme, and Ceremonious dutie, For you haue but mistooke me all this while: I liue with Bread like you, feele Want, Taste Griefe, need Friends: subiected thus, How can you say to me, I am a King? Carl. My Lord, wise men ne're waile their present woes, But presently preuent the wayes to waile: To feare the Foe, since feare oppresseth strength, Giues in your weakenesse, strength vnto your Foe; Feare, and be slaine, no worse can come to sight, And fight and die, is death destroying death, Where fearing, dying, payes death seruile breath

Aum. My Father hath a Power, enquire of him; And learne to make a Body of a Limbe

Rich. Thou chid'st me well: proud Bullingbrooke I come To change Blowes with thee, for our day of Doome: This ague fit of feare is ouer-blowne, An easie taske it is to winne our owne. Say Scroope, where lyes our Vnckle with his Power? Speake sweetly man, although thy lookes be sowre

Scroope. Men iudge by the complexion of the Skie The state and inclination of the day; So may you by my dull and heauie Eye: My Tongue hath but a heauier Tale to say: I play the Torturer, by small and small To lengthen out the worst, that must be spoken. Your Vnckle Yorke is ioyn'd with Bullingbrooke, And all your Northerne Castles yeelded vp, And all your Southerne Gentlemen in Armes Vpon his Faction

Rich. Thou hast said enough. Beshrew thee Cousin, which didst lead me forth Of that sweet way I was in, to despaire: What say you now? What comfort haue we now? By Heauen Ile hate him euerlastingly, That bids me be of comfort any more. Goe to Flint Castle, there Ile pine away, A King, Woes slaue, shall Kingly Woe obey: That Power I haue, discharge, and let 'em goe To eare the Land, that hath some hope to grow, For I haue none. Let no man speake againe To alter this, for counsaile is but vaine

Aum. My Liege, one word

Rich. He does me double wrong, That wounds me with the flatteries of his tongue. Discharge my followers: let them hence away, From Richards Night, to Bullingbrookes faire Day.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter with Drum and Colours, Bullingbrooke, Yorke, Northumberland, Attendants.

Bull. So that by this intelligence we learne The Welchmen are dispers'd, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With some few priuate friends, vpon this Coast

North. The newes is very faire and good, my Lord, Richard, not farre from hence, hath hid his head

York. It would beseeme the Lord Northumberland, To say King Richard: alack the heauie day, When such a sacred King should hide his head

North. Your Grace mistakes: onely to be briefe, Left I his Title out

York. The time hath beene, Would you haue beene so briefe with him, he would Haue beene so briefe with you, to shorten you, For taking so the Head, your whole heads length

Bull. Mistake not (Vnckle) farther then you should

York. Take not (good Cousin) farther then you should. Least you mistake the Heauens are ore your head

Bull. I know it (Vnckle) and oppose not my selfe Against their will. But who comes here? Enter Percie.

Welcome Harry: what, will not this Castle yeeld? Per. The Castle royally is mann'd, my Lord, Against thy entrance

Bull. Royally? Why, it containes no King? Per. Yes (my good Lord) It doth containe a King: King Richard lyes Within the limits of yond Lime and Stone, And with him, the Lord Aumerle, Lord Salisbury, Sir Stephen Scroope, besides a Clergie man Of holy reuerence; who, I cannot learne

North. Oh, belike it is the Bishop of Carlile

Bull. Noble Lord, Goe to the rude Ribs of that ancient Castle, Through Brazen Trumpet send the breath of Parle Into his ruin'd Eares, and thus deliuer: Henry Bullingbrooke vpon his knees doth kisse King Richards hand, and sends allegeance And true faith of heart to his Royall Person: hither come Euen at his feet, to lay my Armes and Power, Prouided, that my Banishment repeal'd, And Lands restor'd againe, be freely graunted: If not, Ile vse th 'aduantage of my Power, And lay the Summers dust with showers of blood, Rayn'd from the wounds of slaughter'd Englishmen; The which, how farre off from the mind of Bullingbrooke It is, such Crimson Tempest should bedrench The fresh greene Lap of faire King Richards Land, My stooping dutie tenderly shall shew. Goe signifie as much, while here we march Vpon the Grassie Carpet of this Plaine: Let's march without the noyse of threatning Drum, That from this Castles tatter'd Battlements Our faire Appointments may be well perus'd. Me thinkes King Richard and my selfe should meet With no lesse terror then the Elements Of Fire and Water, when their thundring smoake At meeting teares the cloudie Cheekes of Heauen: Be he the fire, Ile be the yeelding Water; The Rage be his, while on the Earth I raine My Waters on the Earth, and not on him. March on, and marke King Richard how he lookes.

Parle without, and answere within: then a Flourish. Enter on the Walls, Richard, Carlile, Aumerle, Scroop, Salisbury.

See, see, King Richard doth himselfe appeare As doth the blushing discontented Sunne, From out the fierie Portall of the East, When he perceiues the enuious Clouds are bent To dimme his glory, and to staine the tract Of his bright passage to the Occident

York. Yet lookes he like a King: behold his Eye (As bright as is the Eagles) lightens forth Controlling Maiestie: alack, alack, for woe, That any harme should staine so faire a shew

Rich. Wee are amaz'd, and thus long haue we stood To watch the fearefull bending of thy knee, Because we thought our selfe thy lawfull King: And if we be, how dare thy ioynts forget To pay their awfull dutie to our presence? If we be not, shew vs the Hand of God, That hath dismiss'd vs from our Stewardship, For well wee know, no Hand of Blood and Bone Can gripe the sacred Handle of our Scepter, Vnlesse he doe prophane, steale, or vsurpe. And though you thinke, that all, as you haue done, Haue torne their Soules, by turning them from vs, And we are barren, and bereft of Friends: Yet know, my Master, God Omnipotent, Is mustring in his Clouds, on our behalfe, Armies of Pestilence, and they shall strike Your Children yet vnborne, and vnbegot, That lift your Vassall Hands against my Head, And threat the Glory of my precious Crowne. Tell Bullingbrooke, for yond me thinkes he is, That euery stride he makes vpon my Land, Is dangerous Treason: He is come to ope The purple Testament of bleeding Warre; But ere the Crowne he lookes for, liue in peace, Ten thousand bloody crownes of Mothers Sonnes Shall ill become the flower of Englands face, Change the complexion of her Maid-pale Peace To Scarlet Indignation, and bedew Her Pastors Grasse with faithfull English Blood

North. The King of Heauen forbid our Lord the King Should so with ciuill and vnciuill Armes Be rush'd vpon: Thy thrice-noble Cousin, Harry Bullingbrooke, doth humbly kisse thy hand, And by the Honorable Tombe he sweares, That stands vpon your Royall Grandsires Bones, And by the Royalties of both your Bloods, (Currents that spring from one most gracious Head) And by the buried Hand of Warlike Gaunt, And by the Worth and Honor of himselfe, Comprising all that may be sworne, or said, His comming hither hath no further scope, Then for his Lineall Royalties, and to begge Infranchisement immediate on his knees: Which on thy Royall partie graunted once, His glittering Armes he will commend to Rust, His barbed Steedes to Stables, and his heart To faithfull seruice of your Maiestie: This sweares he, as he is a Prince, is iust, And as I am a Gentleman, I credit him

Rich. Northumberland, say thus: The King returnes, His Noble Cousin is right welcome hither, And all the number of his faire demands Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: With all the gracious vtterance thou hast, Speake to his gentle hearing kind commends. We doe debase our selfe (Cousin) doe we not, To looke so poorely, and to speake so faire? Shall we call back Northumberland, and send Defiance to the Traytor, and so die? Aum. No, good my Lord, let's fight with gentle words, Till time lend friends, and friends their helpeful Swords

Rich. Oh God, oh God, that ere this tongue of mine, That layd the Sentence of dread Banishment On yond prowd man, should take it off againe With words of sooth: Oh that I were as great As is my Griefe, or lesser then my Name, Or that I could forget what I haue beene, Or not remember what I must be now: Swell'st thou prowd heart? Ile giue thee scope to beat, Since Foes haue scope to beat both thee and me

Aum. Northumberland comes backe from Bullingbrooke

Rich. What must the King doe now? must he submit? The King shall doe it: Must he be depos'd? The King shall be contented: Must he loose The Name of King? o' Gods Name let it goe. Ile giue my Iewels for a sett of Beades, My gorgeous Pallace, for a Hermitage, My gay Apparrell, for an Almes-mans Gowne, My figur'd Goblets, for a Dish of Wood, My Scepter, for a Palmers walking Staffe, My Subiects, for a payre of carued Saints, And my large Kingdome, for a little Graue, A little little Graue, an obscure Graue. Or Ile be buryed in the Kings high-way, Some way of common Trade, where Subiects feet May howrely trample on their Soueraignes Head: For on my heart they tread now, whilest I liue; And buryed once, why not vpon my Head? Aumerle, thou weep'st (my tender-hearted Cousin) Wee'le make foule Weather with despised Teares: Our sighes, and they, shall lodge the Summer Corne, And make a Dearth in this reuolting Land. Or shall we play the Wantons with our Woes, And make some prettie Match, with shedding Teares? As thus: to drop them still vpon one place, Till they haue fretted vs a payre of Graues, Within the Earth: and therein lay'd, there lyes Two Kinsmen, digg'd their Graues with weeping Eyes? Would not this ill, doe well? Well, well, I see I talke but idly, and you mock at mee. Most mightie Prince, my Lord Northumberland, What sayes King Bullingbrooke? Will his Maiestie Giue Richard leaue to liue, till Richard die? You make a Legge, and Bullingbrooke sayes I

North. My Lord, in the base Court he doth attend To speake with you, may it please you to come downe

Rich. Downe, downe I come, like glist'ring Phaeton, Wanting the manage of vnruly Iades. In the base Court? base Court, where Kings grow base, To come at Traytors Calls, and doe them Grace. In the base Court come down: down Court, down King, For night-Owls shrike, where mou[n]ting Larks should sing

Bull. What sayes his Maiestie? North. Sorrow, and griefe of heart Makes him speake fondly, like a frantick man: Yet he is come

Bull. Stand all apart, And shew faire dutie to his Maiestie. My gracious Lord

Rich. Faire Cousin, You debase your Princely Knee, To make the base Earth prowd with kissing it. Me rather had, my Heart might feele your Loue, Then my vnpleas'd Eye see your Courtesie. Vp Cousin, vp, your Heart is vp, I know, Thus high at least, although your Knee be low

Bull. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine owne

Rich. Your owne is yours, and I am yours, and all

Bull. So farre be mine, my most redoubted Lord, As my true seruice shall deserue your loue

Rich. Well you deseru'd: They well deserue to haue, That know the strong'st, and surest way to get. Vnckle giue me your Hand: nay, drie your Eyes, Teares shew their Loue, but want their Remedies. Cousin, I am too young to be your Father, Though you are old enough to be my Heire. What you will haue, Ile giue, and willing to, For doe we must, what force will haue vs doe. Set on towards London: Cousin, is it so? Bull. Yea, my good Lord

Rich. Then I must not say, no.

Flourish.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Enter the Queene, and two Ladies

Qu. What sport shall we deuise here in this Garden, To driue away the heauie thought of Care? La. Madame, wee'le play at Bowles

Qu. 'Twill make me thinke the World is full of Rubs, And that my fortune runnes against the Byas

La. Madame, wee'le Dance

Qu. My Legges can keepe no measure in Delight, When my poore Heart no measure keepes in Griefe. Therefore no Dancing (Girle) some other sport

La. Madame, wee'le tell Tales

Qu. Of Sorrow, or of Griefe? La. Of eyther, Madame

Qu. Of neyther, Girle. For if of Ioy, being altogether wanting, It doth remember me the more of Sorrow: Or if of Griefe, being altogether had, It addes more Sorrow to my want of Ioy: For what I haue, I need not to repeat; And what I want, it bootes not to complaine

La. Madame, Ile sing

Qu. 'Tis well that thou hast cause: But thou should'st please me better, would'st thou weepe

La. I could weepe, Madame, would it doe you good

Qu. And I could sing, would weeping doe me good, And neuer borrow any Teare of thee. Enter a Gardiner, and two Seruants.

But stay, here comes the Gardiners, Let's step into the shadow of these Trees. My wretchednesse, vnto a Rowe of Pinnes, They'le talke of State: for euery one doth so, Against a Change; Woe is fore-runne with Woe

Gard. Goe binde thou vp yond dangling Apricocks, Which like vnruly Children, make their Syre Stoupe with oppression of their prodigall weight: Giue some supportance to the bending twigges. Goe thou, and like an Executioner Cut off the heads of too fast growing sprayes, That looke too loftie in our Common-wealth: All must be euen, in our Gouernment. You thus imploy'd, I will goe root away The noysome Weedes, that without profit sucke The Soyles fertilitie from wholesome flowers

Ser. Why should we, in the compasse of a Pale, Keepe Law and Forme, and due Proportion, Shewing as in a Modell our firme Estate? When our Sea-walled Garden, the whole Land, Is full of Weedes, her fairest Flowers choakt vp, Her Fruit-trees all vnpruin'd, her Hedges ruin'd, Her Knots disorder'd, and her wholesome Hearbes Swarming with Caterpillers

Gard. Hold thy peace. He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd Spring, Hath now himselfe met with the Fall of Leafe. The Weeds that his broad-spreading Leaues did shelter, That seem'd, in eating him, to hold him vp, Are pull'd vp, Root and all, by Bullingbrooke: I meane, the Earle of Wiltshire, Bushie, Greene

Ser. What are they dead? Gard. They are, And Bullingbrooke hath seiz'd the wastefull King. Oh, what pitty is it, that he had not so trim'd And drest his Land, as we this Garden, at time of yeare, And wound the Barke, the skin of our Fruit-trees, Least being ouer-proud with Sap and Blood, With too much riches it confound it selfe? Had he done so, to great and growing men, They might haue liu'd to beare, and he to taste Their fruites of dutie. Superfluous branches We lop away, that bearing boughes may liue: Had he done so, himselfe had borne the Crowne, Which waste and idle houres, hath quite thrown downe

Ser. What thinke you the King shall be depos'd? Gar. Deprest he is already, and depos'd 'Tis doubted he will be. Letters came last night To a deere Friend of the Duke of Yorkes, That tell blacke tydings

Qu. Oh I am prest to death through want of speaking: Thou old Adams likenesse, set to dresse this Garden: How dares thy harsh rude tongue sound this vnpleasing newes What Eue? what Serpent hath suggested thee, To make a second fall of cursed man? Why do'st thou say, King Richard is depos'd, Dar'st thou, thou little better thing then earth, Diuine his downfall? Say, where, when, and how Cam'st thou by this ill-tydings? Speake thou wretch

Gard. Pardon me Madam. Little ioy haue I To breath these newes; yet what I say, is true; King Richard, he is in the mighty hold Of Bullingbrooke, their Fortunes both are weigh'd: In your Lords Scale, is nothing but himselfe, And some few Vanities, that make him light: But in the Ballance of great Bullingbrooke, Besides himselfe, are all the English Peeres, And with that oddes he weighes King Richard downe. Poste you to London, and you'l finde it so, I speake no more, then euery one doth know

Qu. Nimble mischance, that art so light of foote, Doth not thy Embassage belong to me? And am I last that knowes it? Oh thou think'st To serue me last, that I may longest keepe Thy sorrow in my breast. Come Ladies goe, To meet at London, Londons King in woe. What was I borne to this: that my sad looke, Should grace the Triumph of great Bullingbrooke. Gard'ner, for telling me this newes of woe, I would the Plants thou graft'st, may neuer grow. Enter.

G. Poore Queen, so that thy State might be no worse, I would my skill were subiect to thy curse: Heere did she drop a teare, heere in this place Ile set a Banke of Rew, sowre Herbe of Grace: Rue, eu'n for ruth, heere shortly shall be seene, In the remembrance of a Weeping Queene. Enter.

Actus Quartus. Scoena Prima.

Enter as to the Parliament, Bullingbrooke, Aumerle, Northumberland, Percie, FitzWater, Surrey, Carlile, Abbot of Westminster. Herauld, Officers, and Bagot.

Bullingbrooke. Call forth Bagot. Now Bagot, freely speake thy minde, What thou do'st know of Noble Glousters death: Who wrought it with the King, and who perform'd The bloody Office of his Timelesse end

Bag. Then set before my face, the Lord Aumerle

Bul. Cosin, stand forth, and looke vpon that man

Bag. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scornes to vnsay, what it hath once deliuer'd. In that dead time, when Glousters death was plotted, I heard you say, Is not my arme of length, That reacheth from the restfull English Court As farre as Callis, to my Vnkles head. Amongst much other talke, that very time, I heard you say, that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand Crownes, Then Bullingbrookes returne to England; adding withall, How blest this Land would be, in this your Cosins death

Aum. Princes, and Noble Lords: What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonor my faire Starres, On equall termes to giue him chasticement? Either I must, or haue mine honor soyl'd With th' Attaindor of his sland'rous Lippes. There is my Gage, the manuall Seale of death That markes thee out for Hell. Thou lyest, And will maintaine what thou hast said, is false, In thy heart blood, though being all too base To staine the temper of my Knightly sword

Bul. Bagot forbeare, thou shalt not take it vp

Aum. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence, that hath mou'd me so

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sympathize: There is my Gage, Aumerle, in Gage to thine: By that faire Sunne, that shewes me where thou stand'st, I heard thee say (and vauntingly thou spak'st it) That thou wer't cause of Noble Glousters death. If thou deniest it, twenty times thou lyest, And I will turne thy falshood to thy hart, Where it was forged with my Rapiers point

Aum. Thou dar'st not (Coward) liue to see the day

Fitz. Now by my Soule, I would it were this houre

Aum. Fitzwater thou art damn'd to hell for this

Per. Aumerle, thou lye'st: his Honor is as true In this Appeale, as thou art all vniust: And that thou art so, there I throw my Gage To proue it on thee, to th' extreamest point Of mortall breathing. Seize it, if thou dar'st

Aum. And if I do not, may my hands rot off, And neuer brandish more reuengefull Steele, Ouer the glittering Helmet of my Foe

Surrey. My Lord Fitzwater: I do remember well, the very time Aumerle, and you did talke

Fitz. My Lord, 'Tis very true: You were in presence then, And you can witnesse with me, this is true

Surrey. As false, by heauen, As Heauen it selfe is true

Fitz. Surrey, thou Lyest

Surrey. Dishonourable Boy; That Lye, shall lie so heauy on my Sword, That it shall render Vengeance, and Reuenge, Till thou the Lye-giuer, and that Lye, doe lye In earth as quiet, as thy Fathers Scull. In proofe whereof, there is mine Honors pawne, Engage it to the Triall, if thou dar'st

Fitzw. How fondly do'st thou spurre a forward Horse? If I dare eate, or drinke, or breathe, or liue, I dare meete Surrey in a Wildernesse, And spit vpon him, whilest I say he Lyes, And Lyes, and Lyes: there is my Bond of Faith, To tye thee to my strong Correction. As I intend to thriue in this new World, Aumerle is guiltie of my true Appeale. Besides, I heard the banish'd Norfolke say, That thou Aumerle didst send two of thy men, To execute the Noble Duke at Callis

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with a Gage, That Norfolke lyes: here doe I throw downe this, If he may be repeal'd, to trie his Honor

Bull. These differences shall all rest vnder Gage, Till Norfolke be repeal'd: repeal'd he shall be; And (though mine Enemie) restor'd againe To all his Lands and Seignories: when hee's return'd, Against Aumerle we will enforce his Tryall

Carl. That honorable day shall ne're be seene. Many a time hath banish'd Norfolke fought For Iesu Christ, in glorious Christian field Streaming the Ensigne of the Christian Crosse, Against black Pagans, Turkes, and Saracens: And toyl'd with workes of Warre, retyr'd himselfe To Italy, and there at Venice gaue His Body to that pleasant Countries Earth, And his pure Soule vnto his Captaine Christ, Vnder whose Colours he had fought so long

Bull. Why Bishop, is Norfolke dead? Carl. As sure as I liue, my Lord

Bull. Sweet peace conduct his sweet Soule To the Bosome of good old Abraham. Lords Appealants, your differe[n]ces shal all rest vnder gage, Till we assigne you to your dayes of Tryall. Enter Yorke.

Yorke. Great Duke of Lancaster, I come to thee From plume-pluckt Richard, who with willing Soule Adopts thee Heire, and his high Scepter yeelds To the possession of thy Royall Hand. Ascend his Throne, descending now from him, And long liue Henry, of that Name the Fourth

Bull. In Gods Name, Ile ascend the Regall Throne

Carl. Mary, Heauen forbid. Worst in this Royall Presence may I speake, Yet best beseeming me to speake the truth. Would God, that any in this Noble Presence Were enough Noble, to be vpright Iudge Of Noble Richard: then true Noblenesse would Learne him forbearance from so foule a Wrong. What Subiect can giue Sentence on his King? And who sits here, that is not Richards Subiect? Theeues are not iudg'd, but they are by to heare, Although apparant guilt be seene in them: And shall the figure of Gods Maiestie, His Captaine, Steward, Deputie elect, Anoynted, Crown'd, planted many yeeres, Be iudg'd by subiect, and inferior breathe, And he himselfe not present? Oh, forbid it, God, That in a Christian Climate, Soules refin'de Should shew so heynous, black, obscene a deed. I speake to Subiects, and a Subiect speakes, Stirr'd vp by Heauen, thus boldly for his King My Lord of Hereford here, whom you call King, Is a foule Traytor to prowd Herefords King. And if you Crowne him, let me prophecie, The blood of English shall manure the ground, And future Ages groane for his foule Act. Peace shall goe sleepe with Turkes and Infidels, And in this Seat of Peace, tumultuous Warres Shall Kinne with Kinne, and Kinde with Kinde confound. Disorder, Horror, Feare, and Mutinie Shall here inhabite, and this Land be call'd The field of Golgotha, and dead mens Sculls. Oh, if you reare this House, against this House It will the wofullest Diuision proue, That euer fell vpon this cursed Earth. Preuent it, resist it, and let it not be so, Least Child, Childs Children cry against you, Woe

North. Well haue you argu'd Sir: and for your paines, Of Capitall Treason we arrest you here. My Lord of Westminster, be it your charge, To keepe him safely, till his day of Tryall. May it please you, Lords, to grant the Commons Suit? Bull. Fetch hither Richard, that in common view He may surrender: so we shall proceede Without suspition

Yorke. I will be his Conduct. Enter.

Bull. Lords, you that here are vnder our Arrest, Procure your Sureties for your Dayes of Answer: Little are we beholding to your Loue, And little look'd for at your helping Hands. Enter Richard and Yorke.

Rich. Alack, why am I sent for to a King, Before I haue shooke off the Regall thoughts Wherewith I reign'd? I hardly yet haue learn'd To insinuate, flatter, bowe, and bend my Knee. Giue Sorrow leaue a while, to tuture me To this submission. Yet I well remember The fauors of these men: were they not mine? Did they not sometime cry, All hayle to me? So Iudas did to Christ: but he in twelue, Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelue thousand, none. God saue the King: will no man say, Amen? Am I both Priest, and Clarke? well then, Amen. God saue the King, although I be not hee: And yet Amen, if Heauen doe thinke him mee. To doe what seruice, am I sent for hither? Yorke. To doe that office of thine owne good will, Which tyred Maiestie did make thee offer: The Resignation of thy State and Crowne To Henry Bullingbrooke

Rich. Giue me the Crown. Here Cousin, seize y Crown: Here Cousin, on this side my Hand, on that side thine. Now is this Golden Crowne like a deepe Well, That owes two Buckets, filling one another, The emptier euer dancing in the ayre, The other downe, vnseene, and full of Water: That Bucket downe, and full of Teares am I, Drinking my Griefes, whil'st you mount vp on high

Bull. I thought you had been willing to resigne

Rich. My Crowne I am, but still my Griefes are mine: You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes; still am I King of those

Bull. Part of your Cares you giue me with your Crowne

Rich. Your Cares set vp, do not pluck my Cares downe. My Care, is losse of Care, by old Care done, Your Care, is gaine of Care, by new Care wonne: The Cares I giue, I haue, though giuen away, They 'tend the Crowne, yet still with me they stay: Bull. Are you contented to resigne the Crowne? Rich. I, no; no, I: for I must nothing bee: Therefore no, no, for I resigne to thee. Now, marke me how I will vndoe my selfe. I giue this heauie Weight from off my Head, And this vnwieldie Scepter from my Hand, The pride of Kingly sway from out my Heart. With mine owne Teares I wash away my Balme, With mine owne Hands I giue away my Crowne, With mine owne Tongue denie my Sacred State, With mine owne Breath release all dutious Oathes; All Pompe and Maiestie I doe forsweare: My Manors, Rents, Reuenues, I forgoe; My Acts, Decrees, and Statutes I denie: God pardon all Oathes that are broke to mee, God keepe all Vowes vnbroke are made to thee. Make me that nothing haue, with nothing grieu'd, And thou with all pleas'd, that hast all atchieu'd. Long may'st thou liue in Richards Seat to sit, And soone lye Richard in an Earthie Pit. God saue King Henry, vn-King'd Richard sayes, And send him many yeeres of Sunne-shine dayes. What more remaines? North. No more: but that you reade These Accusations, and these grieuous Crymes, Committed by your Person, and your followers, Against the State, and Profit of this Land: That by confessing them, the Soules of men May deeme, that you are worthily depos'd

Rich. Must I doe so? and must I rauell out My weau'd-vp follyes? Gentle Northumberland, If thy Offences were vpon Record, Would it not shame thee, in so faire a troupe, To reade a Lecture of them? If thou would'st, There should'st thou finde one heynous Article, Contayning the deposing of a King, And cracking the strong Warrant of an Oath, Mark'd with a Blot, damn'd in the Booke of Heauen. Nay, all of you, that stand and looke vpon me, Whil'st that my wretchednesse doth bait my selfe, Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your hands, Shewing an outward pittie: yet you Pilates Haue here deliuer'd me to my sowre Crosse, And Water cannot wash away your sinne

North. My Lord dispatch, reade o're these Articles

Rich. Mine Eyes are full of Teares, I cannot see: And yet salt-Water blindes them not so much, But they can see a sort of Traytors here. Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe, I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest: For I haue giuen here my Soules consent, T' vndeck the pompous Body of a King; Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue; Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant

North. My Lord

Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught-insulting man; No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title; No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font, But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day, That I haue worne so many Winters out, And know not now, what Name to call my selfe. Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow, Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke, To melt my selfe away in Water-drops. Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good, And if my word be Sterling yet in England, Let it command a Mirror hither straight, That it may shew me what a Face I haue, Since it is Bankrupt of his Maiestie

Bull. Goe some of you, and fetch a Looking-Glasse

North. Read o're this Paper, while y Glasse doth come

Rich. Fiend, thou torments me, ere I come to Hell

Bull. Vrge it no more, my Lord Northumberland

North. The Commons will not then be satisfy'd

Rich. They shall be satisfy'd: Ile reade enough, When I doe see the very Booke indeede, Where all my sinnes are writ, and that's my selfe. Enter one with a Glasse.

Giue me that Glasse, and therein will I reade. No deeper wrinckles yet? hath Sorrow strucke So many Blowes vpon this Face of mine, And made no deeper Wounds? Oh flatt'ring Glasse, Like to my followers in prosperitie, Thou do'st beguile me. Was this Face, the Face That euery day, vnder his House-hold Roofe, Did keepe ten thousand men? Was this the Face, That like the Sunne, did make beholders winke? Is this the Face, which fac'd so many follyes, That was at last out-fac'd by Bullingbrooke? A brittle Glory shineth in this Face, As brittle as the Glory, is the Face, For there it is, crackt in an hundred shiuers. Marke silent King, the Morall of this sport, How soone my Sorrow hath destroy'd my Face

Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd The shadow of your Face

Rich. Say that againe. The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see, 'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within, And these externall manner of Laments, Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseene Griefe, That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule. There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone, And then be gone, and trouble you no more. Shall I obtaine it? Bull. Name it, faire Cousin

Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: For when I was a King, my flatterers Were then but subiects; being now a subiect, I haue a King here to my flatterer: Being so great, I haue no neede to begge

Bull. Yet aske

Rich. And shall I haue? Bull. You shall

Rich. Then giue me leaue to goe

Bull. Whither? Rich. Whither you will, so I were from your sights

Bull. Goe some of you, conuey him to the Tower

Rich. Oh good: conuey: Conueyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall

Bull. On Wednesday next, we solemnly set downe Our Coronation: Lords, prepare your selues.

Exeunt.

Abbot. A wofull Pageant haue we here beheld

Carl. The Woes to come, the Children yet vnborne, Shall feele this day as sharpe to them as Thorne

Aum. You holy Clergie-men, is there no Plot To rid the Realme of this pernicious Blot

Abbot. Before I freely speake my minde herein, You shall not onely take the Sacrament, To bury mine intents, but also to effect What euer I shall happen to deuise. I see your Browes are full of Discontent, Your Heart of Sorrow, and your Eyes of Teares. Come home with me to Supper, Ile lay a Plot Shall shew vs all a merry day.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Queene, and Ladies.

Qu. This way the King will come: this is the way To Iulius Cæsars ill-erected Tower: To whose flint Bosome, my condemned Lord Is doom'd a Prisoner, by prowd Bullingbrooke. Here let vs rest, if this rebellious Earth Haue any resting for her true Kings Queene. Enter Richard, and Guard.

But soft, but see, or rather doe not see, My faire Rose wither: yet looke vp; behold, That you in pittie may dissolue to dew, And wash him fresh againe with true-loue Teares. Ah thou, the Modell where old Troy did stand, Thou Mappe of Honor, thou King Richards Tombe, And not King Richard: thou most beauteous Inne, Why should hard-fauor'd Griefe be lodg'd in thee, When Triumph is become an Ale-house Guest

Rich. Ioyne not with griefe, faire Woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden: learne good Soule, To thinke our former State a happie Dreame, From which awak'd, the truth of what we are, Shewes vs but this. I am sworne Brother (Sweet) To grim Necessitie; and hee and I Will keepe a League till Death. High thee to France, And Cloyster thee in some Religious House: Our holy liues must winne a new Worlds Crowne, Which our prophane houres here haue stricken downe

Qu. What, is my Richard both in shape and minde Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Bullingbrooke Depos'd thine Intellect? hath he beene in thy Heart? The Lyon dying, thrusteth forth his Paw, And wounds the Earth, if nothing else, with rage To be o're-powr'd: and wilt thou, Pupill-like, Take thy Correction mildly, kisse the Rodde, And fawne on Rage with base Humilitie, Which art a Lyon, and a King of Beasts? Rich. A King of Beasts indeed: if aught but Beasts, I had beene still a happy King of Men. Good (sometime Queene) prepare thee hence for France: Thinke I am dead, and that euen here thou tak'st, As from my Death-bed, my last liuing leaue. In Winters tedious Nights sit by the fire With good old folkes, and let them tell thee Tales Of wofull Ages, long agoe betide: And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their griefe, Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, And send the hearers weeping to their Beds: For why? the sencelesse Brands will sympathize The heauie accent of thy mouing Tongue, And in compassion, weepe the fire out: And some will mourne in ashes, some coale-black, For the deposing of a rightfull King. Enter Northumberland.

North. My Lord, the mind of Bullingbrooke is chang'd. You must to Pomfret, not vnto the Tower. And Madame, there is order ta'ne for you: With all swift speed, you must away to France

Rich. Northumberland, thou Ladder wherewithall The mounting Bullingbrooke ascends my Throne, The time shall not be many houres of age, More then it is, ere foule sinne, gathering head, Shall breake into corruption: thou shalt thinke, Though he diuide the Realme, and giue thee halfe, It is too little, helping him to all: He shall thinke, that thou which know'st the way To plant vnrightfull Kings, wilt know againe, Being ne're so little vrg'd another way, To pluck him headlong from the vsurped Throne. The Loue of wicked friends conuerts to Feare; That Feare, to Hate; and Hate turnes one, or both, To worthie Danger, and deserued Death

North. My guilt be on my Head, and there an end: Take leaue, and part, for you must part forthwith

Rich. Doubly diuorc'd? (bad men) ye violate A two-fold Marriage; 'twixt my Crowne, and me. And then betwixt me, and my marryed Wife. Let me vn-kisse the Oath 'twixt thee, and me; And yet not so, for with a Kisse 'twas made. Part vs, Northumberland: I, towards the North, Where shiuering Cold and Sicknesse pines the Clyme: My Queene to France: from whence, set forth in pompe, She came adorned hither like sweet May; Sent back like Hollowmas, or short'st of day

Qu. And must we be diuided? must we part? Rich. I, hand from hand (my Loue) and heart fro[m] heart

Qu. Banish vs both, and send the King with me

North. That were some Loue, but little Pollicy

Qu. Then whither he goes, thither let me goe

Rich. So two together weeping, make one Woe. Weepe thou for me in France; I, for thee heere: Better farre off, then neere, be ne're the neere. Goe, count thy Way with Sighes; I, mine with Groanes

Qu. So longest Way shall haue the longest Moanes

Rich. Twice for one step Ile groane, y Way being short, And peece the Way out with a heauie heart. Come, come, in wooing Sorrow let's be briefe, Since wedding it, there is such length in Griefe: One Kisse shall stop our mouthes, and dumbely part; Thus giue I mine, and thus take I thy heart

Qu. Giue me mine owne againe: 'twere no good part, To take on me to keepe, and kill thy heart. So, now I haue mine owne againe, be gone, That I may striue to kill it with a groane

Rich. We make Woe wanton with this fond delay: Once more adieu; the rest, let Sorrow say.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Yorke, and his Duchesse.

Duch. My Lord, you told me you would tell the rest, When weeping made you breake the story off, Of our two Cousins comming into London

Yorke. Where did I leaue? Duch. At that sad stoppe, my Lord, Where rude mis-gouern'd hands, from Windowes tops, Threw dust and rubbish on King Richards head

Yorke. Then, as I said, the Duke, great Bullingbrooke, Mounted vpon a hot and fierie Steed, Which his aspiring Rider seem'd to know, With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course: While all tongues cride, God saue thee Bullingbrooke. You would haue thought the very windowes spake, So many greedy lookes of yong and old, Through Casements darted their desiring eyes Vpon his visage: and that all the walles, With painted Imagery had said at once, Iesu preserue thee, welcom Bullingbrooke. Whil'st he, from one side to the other turning, Bare-headed, lower then his proud Steeds necke, Bespake them thus: I thanke you Countrimen: And thus still doing, thus he past along

Dutch. Alas poore Richard, where rides he the whilst? Yorke. As in a Theater, the eyes of men After a well grac'd Actor leaues the Stage, Are idlely bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious: Euen so, or with much more contempt, mens eyes Did scowle on Richard: no man cride, God saue him: No ioyfull tongue gaue him his welcome home, But dust was throwne vpon his Sacred head, Which with such gentle sorrow he shooke off, His face still combating with teares and smiles (The badges of his greefe and patience) That had not God (for some strong purpose) steel'd The hearts of men, they must perforce haue melted, And Barbarisme it selfe haue pittied him. But heauen hath a hand in these euents, To whose high will we bound our calme contents. To Bullingbrooke, are we sworne Subiects now, Whose State, and Honor, I for aye allow. Enter Aumerle

Dut. Heere comes my sonne Aumerle

Yor. Aumerle that was, But that is lost, for being Richards Friend. And Madam, you must call him Rutland now: I am in Parliament pledge for his truth, And lasting fealtie to the new-made King

Dut. Welcome my sonne: who are the Violets now, That strew the greene lap of the new-come Spring? Aum. Madam, I know not, nor I greatly care not, God knowes, I had as liefe be none, as one

Yorke. Well, beare you well in this new-spring of time Least you be cropt before you come to prime. What newes from Oxford? Hold those Iusts & Triumphs? Aum. For ought I know my Lord, they do

Yorke. You will be there I know

Aum. If God preuent not, I purpose so

Yor. What Seale is that that hangs without thy bosom? Yea, look'st thou pale? Let me see the Writing

Aum. My Lord, 'tis nothing

Yorke. No matter then who sees it, I will be satisfied, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech your Grace to pardon me, It is a matter of small consequence, Which for some reasons I would not haue seene

Yorke. Which for some reasons sir, I meane to see: I feare, I feare

Dut. What should you feare? 'Tis nothing but some bond, that he is enter'd into For gay apparrell, against the Triumph

Yorke. Bound to himselfe? What doth he with a Bond That he is bound to? Wife, thou art a foole. Boy, let me see the Writing

Aum. I do beseech you pardon me, I may not shew it

Yor. I will be satisfied: let me see it I say.

Snatches it

Treason, foule Treason, Villaine, Traitor, Slaue

Dut. What's the matter, my Lord? Yorke. Hoa, who's within there? Saddle my horse. Heauen for his mercy: what treachery is heere? Dut. Why, what is't my Lord? Yorke. Giue me my boots, I say: Saddle my horse: Now by my Honor, my life, my troth, I will appeach the Villaine

Dut. What is the matter? Yorke. Peace foolish Woman

Dut. I will not peace. What is the matter Sonne? Aum. Good Mother be content, it is no more Then my poore life must answer

Dut. Thy life answer? Enter Seruant with Boots.

Yor. Bring me my Boots, I will vnto the King

Dut. Strike him Aumerle. Poore boy, y art amaz'd, Hence Villaine, neuer more come in my sight

Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say

Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne? Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue? Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time? And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age, And rob me of a happy Mothers name? Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne? Yor. Thou fond mad woman: Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy? A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament, And interchangeably set downe their hands To kill the King at Oxford

Dut. He shall be none: Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him? Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my Son, I would appeach him

Dut. Hadst thou groan'd for him as I haue done, Thou wouldest be more pittifull: But now I know thy minde; thou do'st suspect That I haue bene disloyall to thy bed, And that he is a Bastard, not thy Sonne: Sweet Yorke, sweet husband, be not of that minde: He is as like thee, as a man may bee, Not like to me, nor any of my Kin, And yet I loue him

Yorke. Make way, vnruly Woman.

Exit

Dut. After Aumerle. Mount thee vpon his horse, Spurre post, and get before him to the King, And begge thy pardon, ere he do accuse thee, Ile not be long behind: though I be old, I doubt not but to ride as fast as Yorke: And neuer will I rise vp from the ground, Till Bullingbrooke haue pardon'd thee: Away be gone.

Exit

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Bullingbrooke, Percie, and other Lords.

Bul. Can no man tell of my vnthriftie Sonne? 'Tis full three monthes since I did see him last. If any plague hang ouer vs, 'tis he, I would to heauen (my Lords) he might be found: Enquire at London, 'mongst the Tauernes there: For there (they say) he dayly doth frequent, With vnrestrained loose Companions, Euen such (they say) as stand in narrow Lanes, And rob our Watch, and beate our passengers, Which he, yong wanton, and effeminate Boy Takes on the point of Honor, to support So dissolute a crew

Per. My Lord, some two dayes since I saw the Prince, And told him of these Triumphes held at Oxford

Bul. And what said the Gallant? Per. His answer was: he would vnto the Stewes, And from the common'st creature plucke a Gloue And weare it as a fauour, and with that He would vnhorse the lustiest Challenger

Bul. As dissolute as desp'rate, yet through both, I see some sparkes of better hope: which elder dayes May happily bring forth. But who comes heere? Enter Aumerle.

Aum. Where is the King? Bul. What meanes our Cosin, that hee stares And lookes so wildely? Aum. God saue your Grace. I do beseech your Maiesty To haue some conference with your Grace alone

Bul. Withdraw your selues, and leaue vs here alone: What is the matter with our Cosin now? Aum. For euer may my knees grow to the earth, My tongue cleaue to my roofe within my mouth, Vnlesse a Pardon, ere I rise, or speake

Bul. Intended, or committed was this fault? If on the first, how heynous ere it bee, To win thy after loue, I pardon thee

Aum. Then giue me leaue, that I may turne the key, That no man enter, till my tale be done

Bul. Haue thy desire.

Yorke within.

Yor. My Liege beware, looke to thy selfe, Thou hast a Traitor in thy presence there

Bul. Villaine, Ile make thee safe

Aum. Stay thy reuengefull hand, thou hast no cause to feare

Yorke. Open the doore, secure foole-hardy King: Shall I for loue speake treason to thy face? Open the doore, or I will breake it open. Enter Yorke.

Bul. What is the matter (Vnkle) speak, recouer breath, Tell vs how neere is danger, That we may arme vs to encounter it

Yor. Peruse this writing heere, and thou shalt know The reason that my haste forbids me show

Aum. Remember as thou read'st, thy promise past: I do repent me, reade not my name there, My heart is not confederate with my hand

Yor. It was (villaine) ere thy hand did set it downe. I tore it from the Traitors bosome, King. Feare, and not Loue, begets his penitence; Forget to pitty him, least thy pitty proue A Serpent, that will sting thee to the heart

Bul. Oh heinous, strong, and bold Conspiracie, O loyall Father of a treacherous Sonne: Thou sheere, immaculate, and siluer fountaine, From whence this streame, through muddy passages Hath had his current, and defil'd himselfe. Thy ouerflow of good, conuerts to bad, And thy abundant goodnesse shall excuse This deadly blot, in thy digressing sonne

Yorke. So shall my Vertue be his Vices bawd, And he shall spend mine Honour, with his Shame; As thriftlesse Sonnes, their scraping Fathers Gold. Mine honor liues, when his dishonor dies, Or my sham'd life, in his dishonor lies: Thou kill'st me in his life, giuing him breath, The Traitor liues, the true man's put to death.

Dutchesse within.

Dut. What hoa (my Liege) for heauens sake let me in

Bul. What shrill-voic'd Suppliant, makes this eager cry? Dut. A woman, and thine Aunt (great King) 'tis I. Speake with me, pitty me, open the dore, A Begger begs, that neuer begg'd before

Bul. Our Scene is alter'd from a serious thing, And now chang'd to the Begger, and the King. My dangerous Cosin, let your Mother in, I know she's come, to pray for your foule sin

Yorke. If thou do pardon, whosoeuer pray, More sinnes for this forgiuenesse, prosper may. This fester'd ioynt cut off, the rest rests sound, This let alone, will all the rest confound. Enter Dutchesse.

Dut. O King, beleeue not this hard-hearted man, Loue, louing not it selfe, none other can

Yor. Thou franticke woman, what dost y make here, Shall thy old dugges, once more a Traitor reare? Dut. Sweet Yorke be patient, heare me gentle Liege

Bul. Rise vp good Aunt

Dut. Not yet, I thee beseech. For euer will I kneele vpon my knees, And neuer see day, that the happy sees, Till thou giue ioy: vntill thou bid me ioy, By pardoning Rutland, my transgressing Boy

Aum. Vnto my mothers prayres, I bend my knee

Yorke. Against them both, my true ioynts bended be

Dut. Pleades he in earnest? Looke vpon his Face, His eyes do drop no teares: his prayres are in iest: His words come from his mouth, ours from our brest. He prayes but faintly, and would be denide, We pray with heart, and soule, and all beside: His weary ioynts would gladly rise, I know, Our knees shall kneele, till to the ground they grow: His prayers are full of false hypocrisie, Ours of true zeale, and deepe integritie: Our prayers do out-pray his, then let them haue That mercy, which true prayers ought to haue

Bul. Good Aunt stand vp

Dut. Nay, do not say stand vp. But Pardon first, and afterwards stand vp. And if I were thy Nurse, thy tongue to teach, Pardon should be the first word of thy speach. I neuer long'd to heare a word till now: Say Pardon (King,) let pitty teach thee how. The word is short: but not so short as sweet, No word like Pardon, for Kings mouth's so meet

Yorke. Speake it in French (King) say Pardon'ne moy

Dut. Dost thou teach pardon, Pardon to destroy? Ah my sowre husband, my hard-hearted Lord, That set's the word it selfe, against the word. Speake Pardon, as 'tis currant in our Land, The chopping French we do not vnderstand. Thine eye begins to speake, set thy tongue there, Or in thy pitteous heart, plant thou thine eare, That hearing how our plaints and prayres do pearce, Pitty may moue thee, Pardon to rehearse

Bul. Good Aunt, stand vp

Dut. I do not sue to stand, Pardon is all the suite I haue in hand

Bul. I pardon him, as heauen shall pardon mee

Dut. O happy vantage of a kneeling knee? Yet am I sicke for feare: Speake it againe, Twice saying Pardon, doth not pardon twaine, But makes one pardon strong

Bul. I pardon him with all my hart

Dut. A God on earth thou art

Bul. But for our trusty brother-in-Law, the Abbot, With all the rest of that consorted crew, Destruction straight shall dogge them at the heeles: Good Vnckle helpe to order seuerall powres To Oxford, or where ere these Traitors are: They shall not liue within this world I sweare, But I will haue them, if I once know where. Vnckle farewell, and Cosin adieu: Your mother well hath praid, and proue you true

Dut. Come my old son, I pray heauen make thee new.

Exeunt.

Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ext. Didst thou not marke the King what words hee spake? Haue I no friend will rid me of this liuing feare: Was it not so? Ser. Those were his very words.

Ex.

Haue I no Friend? (quoth he:) he spake it twice, And vrg'd it twice together, did he not? Ser. He did.

Ex.

And speaking it, he wistly look'd on me, As who should say, I would thou wer't the man That would diuorce this terror from my heart, Meaning the King at Pomfret: Come, let's goe; I am the Kings Friend, and will rid his Foe. Enter.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Richard.

Rich. I haue bin studying, how to compare This Prison where I liue, vnto the World: And for because the world is populous, And heere is not a Creature, but my selfe, I cannot do it: yet Ile hammer't out. My Braine, Ile proue the Female to my Soule, My Soule, the Father: and these two beget A generation of still breeding Thoughts; And these same Thoughts, people this Little World In humors, like the people of this world, For no thought is contented. The better sort, As thoughts of things Diuine, are intermixt With scruples, and do set the Faith it selfe Against the Faith: as thus: Come litle ones: & then again, It is as hard to come, as for a Camell To thred the posterne of a Needles eye. Thoughts tending to Ambition, they do plot Vnlikely wonders; how these vaine weake nailes May teare a passage through the Flinty ribbes Of this hard world, my ragged prison walles: And for they cannot, dye in their owne pride. Thoughts tending to Content, flatter themselues, That they are not the first of Fortunes slaues, Nor shall not be the last. Like silly Beggars, Who sitting in the Stockes, refuge their shame That many haue, and others must sit there; And in this Thought, they finde a kind of ease, Bearing their owne misfortune on the backe Of such as haue before indur'd the like. Thus play I in one Prison, many people, And none contented. Sometimes am I King; Then Treason makes me wish my selfe a Beggar, And so I am. Then crushing penurie, Perswades me, I was better when a King: Then am I king'd againe: and by and by, Thinke that I am vn-king'd by Bullingbrooke, And straight am nothing. But what ere I am,

Musick

Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd With being nothing. Musicke do I heare? Ha, ha? keepe time: How sowre sweet Musicke is, When Time is broke, and no Proportion kept? So is it in the Musicke of mens liues: And heere haue I the daintinesse of eare, To heare time broke in a disorder'd string: But for the Concord of my State and Time, Had not an eare to heare my true Time broke. I wasted Time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numbring clocke; My Thoughts, are minutes; and with Sighes they iarre, Their watches on vnto mine eyes, the outward Watch, Whereto my finger, like a Dialls point, Is pointing still, in cleansing them from teares. Now sir, the sound that tels what houre it is, Are clamorous groanes, that strike vpon my heart, Which is the bell: so Sighes, and Teares, and Grones, Shew Minutes, Houres, and Times: but my Time Runs poasting on, in Bullingbrookes proud ioy, While I stand fooling heere, his iacke o'th' Clocke. This Musicke mads me, let it sound no more, For though it haue holpe madmen to their wits, In me it seemes, it will make wise-men mad: Yet blessing on his heart that giues it me; For 'tis a signe of loue, and loue to Richard, Is a strange Brooch, in this all-hating world. Enter Groome.

Groo. Haile Royall Prince

Rich. Thankes Noble Peere, The cheapest of vs, is ten groates too deere. What art thou? And how com'st thou hither? Where no man euer comes, but that sad dogge That brings me food, to make misfortune liue? Groo. I was a poore Groome of thy Stable (King) When thou wer't King: who trauelling towards Yorke, With much adoo, at length haue gotten leaue To looke vpon my (sometimes Royall) masters face. O how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld In London streets, that Coronation day, When Bullingbrooke rode on Roane Barbary, That horse, that thou so often hast bestrid, That horse, that I so carefully haue drest

Rich. Rode he on Barbary? Tell me gentle Friend, How went he vnder him? Groo. So proudly, as if he had disdain'd the ground

Rich. So proud, that Bullingbrooke was on his backe; That Iade hath eate bread from my Royall hand. This hand hath made him proud with clapping him. Would he not stumble? Would he not fall downe (Since Pride must haue a fall) and breake the necke Of that proud man, that did vsurpe his backe? Forgiuenesse horse: Why do I raile on thee, Since thou created to be aw'd by man Was't borne to beare? I was not made a horse, And yet I beare a burthen like an Asse, Spur-gall'd, and tyrd by iauncing Bullingbrooke. Enter Keeper with a Dish.

Keep. Fellow, giue place, heere is no longer stay

Rich. If thou loue me, 'tis time thou wer't away

Groo. What my tongue dares not, that my heart shall say. Enter.

Keep. My Lord, wilt please you to fall too? Rich. Taste of it first, as thou wer't wont to doo

Keep. My Lord I dare not: Sir Pierce of Exton, Who lately came from th' King, commands the contrary

Rich. The diuell take Henrie of Lancaster, and thee; Patience is stale, and I am weary of it

Keep. Helpe, helpe, helpe. Enter Exton and Seruants.

Ri. How now? what meanes Death in this rude assalt? Villaine, thine owne hand yeelds thy deaths instrument, Go thou and fill another roome in hell.

Exton strikes him downe.

That hand shall burne in neuer-quenching fire, That staggers thus my person. Exton, thy fierce hand, Hath with the Kings blood, stain'd the Kings own land. Mount, mount my soule, thy seate is vp on high, Whil'st my grosse flesh sinkes downward, heere to dye

Exton. As full of Valor, as of Royall blood, Both haue I spilt: Oh would the deed were good. For now the diuell, that told me I did well, Sayes, that this deede is chronicled in hell. This dead King to the liuing King Ile beare, Take hence the rest, and giue them buriall heere. Enter.

Scoena Quinta.

Flourish. Enter Bullingbrooke, Yorke, with other Lords & attendants.

Bul. Kinde Vnkle Yorke, the latest newes we heare, Is that the Rebels haue consum'd with fire Our Towne of Cicester in Gloucestershire, But whether they be tane or slaine, we heare not. Enter Northumberland.

Welcome my Lord: What is the newes? Nor. First to thy Sacred State, wish I all happinesse: The next newes is, I haue to London sent The heads of Salsbury, Spencer, Blunt, and Kent: The manner of their taking may appeare At large discoursed in this paper heere

Bul. We thank thee gentle Percy for thy paines, And to thy worth will adde right worthy gaines. Enter Fitzwaters.

Fitz. My Lord, I haue from Oxford sent to London, The heads of Broccas, and Sir Bennet Seely, Two of the dangerous consorted Traitors, That sought at Oxford, thy dire ouerthrow

Bul. Thy paines Fitzwaters shall not be forgot, Right Noble is thy merit, well I wot. Enter Percy and Carlile.

Per. The grand Conspirator, Abbot of Westminster, With clog of Conscience, and sowre Melancholly, Hath yeelded vp his body to the graue: But heere is Carlile, liuing to abide Thy Kingly doome, and sentence of his pride

Bul. Carlile, this is your doome: Choose out some secret place, some reuerend roome More then thou hast, and with it ioy thy life: So as thou liu'st in peace, dye free from strife: For though mine enemy, thou hast euer beene, High sparkes of Honor in thee haue I seene. Enter Exton with a Coffin.

Exton. Great King, within this Coffin I present Thy buried feare. Heerein all breathlesse lies The mightiest of thy greatest enemies Richard of Burdeaux, by me hither brought

Bul. Exton, I thanke thee not, for thou hast wrought A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand, Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.

Ex.

From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed

Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede, Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead, I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour, But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour. With Caine go wander through the shade of night, And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light. Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe, That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow. Come mourne with me, for that I do lament, And put on sullen Blacke incontinent: Ile make a voyage to the Holy-land, To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after, grace my mourning heere, In weeping after this vntimely Beere.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The life and death of King Richard the Second.