SCENE VII.
The Orchard in Swinftead-Abbey.
Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot.
1 Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain
(Which fome fuppofe the foul's frail dwelling-houfe)
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His highnefs yet doth speak; and holds belief,

That, being brought into the open air,

It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poifon which affaileth him.

My heart hath one poor ftring to stay it by,
Which holds but 'till thy news be uttered;
And then all this thou feeft, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

Faule. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward;
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him:
For, in a night, the best part of my power,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The king dies.
Sal. You breathe thefe dead news in as dead an

ear

My liege my lord !—But now a king,-now thus.
Hen. Even fo muft I run on, and even fo ftop.
What furety of the world, what hope, what stay,

Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here, When this was now a king, and now is clay !
Doth he ftill rage?

Pemb. He is more patient

Than when you left him: even now he fung.
Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes,
In their continuance, will not feel themfelves.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them: invifible his fiege is now,
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of ftrange fantafies;
Which, in their throng and prefs to that laft hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis ftrange, that death
fhould fing.-

I am the cygnet to this pale faint fwan,
Who chants a dolefui hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, fings
His foul and body to their lafting reft.

Faule. Art thou gone fo? I do but ftay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge;

And then my foul fhail wait on thee to heaven,
As it on earth hath been thy fervant ftill.-
Now, now, you ftars, that move in your right
fpheres,
[faiths;
Where be your powers? Shew now your mended
And inftantly return with me again,
To push destruction, and perpetual thame,
Out of the weak door of our fainting land:
Straight let us feek, or straight we shall be fought;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It feems, you know not then fo much as we:
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,
Who half an hour fince came from the Dauphin;
And brings from him fuch offers of our peace

Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born As we with honour and respect may take,
To fet a form upon that indigeft

[caft off:

Hen. How fares your majesty ?
K. John. Poison'd-ill fare ;-dead, forfook,
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thruft his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bofom; nor intreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold:-I do not ask you much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And fo ingrateful, you deny me that.

Hen. Oh, that there were fome virtue in my tears,
That might relieve you!

K. John. The falt of them is hot.—
Within me is a hell; and there the poison
1s, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
On unreprievable condemned blood.

Enter Faulconbridge.

Faule. Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion,
And fpleen of speed to fee your majesty.

K. Jobn. Oh, coufin, thou art come to fet mine eye:
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt ;
And all the shrowds, wherewith my life should fail,
A e turned to one thread, one little hair;

With purpose presently to leave this war.

Faule. He will the rather do it, when he fees
Ourfelves well finewed to our defence.

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
For many carriages he hath difpatch'd
To the fea-fide, and put his caufe and quarrel
To the difpofing of the cardinal:

With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,
If you think meet, this afternoon will post
To confummate this business happily.

Faulc. Let it be fo:- -And you, my noble prince,
With other princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

Hen. At Worcester muft his body be interr'd;
For fo he will'd it.

Faulc. Thither fhall it then.
And happily may your fweet felf put on
The lineal state and glory of the land!
To whom, with all fubmiffion, on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful fervices
And true fubjection everlastingly.

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To reft without a fpot for evermore. [thanks,

Hen. I have a kind foul, that would give you
And knows not how to do it, but with tears.

Faulc. Oh, let us pay the time but needful woe,
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.-
This England never did, nor never fhall,
Lye at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it firft did help to wound itself.
Now thefe her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms, [rue,
| And we shall shock them: Nought fhall make us
If England to itfelf do rest but true. [Exeunt omnes.

O F

KING RICHARD II.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

King RICHARD the Second.
EDMUND of LANGLEY, Duke of

York,

JOHN of GAUNT, Duke of Lancafter,

Uncles to

the King.

Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND.
PERCY, fon to Northumberland
Lord Ross 4.

Lord WILLOUGHBY.
Lord FITZWATER.
Bishop of CARLISLE.

Sir STEPHEN SCROOP.

Lord Marfbal; and another Lord.
Abbot of WESTMINSTER.
Sir PIERCE of EXTON.

Captain of a Band of Welchmen.

Queen to King Richard.

Dutch js of GLOSTER.

Dutchess of YORK.

Ladies, attending on the Ducen.

Heralds, two Gardeners, Keeper, Meffenger, Groom, and other Attendants.
SCENE, difperfedly, in England and Wales.

This hiftory, however, comprifes little more than the two laft years of this prince. The action of the drama begins with Bolingbroke's appealing the duke of Norfolk, on an accufation of high treafon, which fell out in the year 1398; and it clofes with the murder of king Richard at Pomfretcattle towards the end of the year 1400, or the beginning of the enfuing year. 2 Aumerle is the French for what we now call Albemarle, which is a town in Normandy. 3 Mr. Steevens fays, it ought to be Lord Berkley, as there was no Earl Berkley 'till fome ages after. 4 Now Ipelt Roos, one of the duke of Rutland's titles. 5 i. e. bond.

Мочов.

Mob. Each day ftill better other's happiness;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but
flatters us,

Or chivalrous defign of knightly trial:
And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!

[charge?
K. Rich. What doth our coufin lay to Mowbray's
It must be great, that can inherit us 3
So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true;-

As well appeareth by the cause you come;
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.—
Coufin of Hereford, what doft thou object
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray
Baling. First (heaven be the record to my speech!)
In the devotion of a fubject's love,
Tendering the precious fafety of my prince,
And free from other mifbegotten hate,
Come 1 appellant to this princely prefence.-
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
And mark my greeting well; for what I speak,
My body shall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine foul antwer it in heaven.
Thou art a traitor, and a mifcreant;
Too good to be fo, and too bad to live;
Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier feem the clouds that in it fly.
Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name ftuff I thy throat;
And wish, (so please my sovereign) ere I move,
What my tongue fpeaks, my right-drawn fword To me, for juftice, and rough chastisement ;
[zeal: And, by the glorious worth of my defcent,

Boling. Look, what I faid, my life fhall prove it
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your highnefs' foldiers;
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a falfe traitor, and injurious villain.
Befides I fay, and will in battle prove,-
Or here, or elsewhere, to the furtheft verge
That ever was furvey'd by English eye,-
That all the treafons, for thefe eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,

may prove.

I

Fetch from falfe Mowbray their firft head and fpring.
Further I fay,-and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to make all this good,-
That he did plot the duke of Glofter's death;
Suggeft his foon-believing adverfaries;

And, confequently, like a traitor coward, [blood ;
Sluic'd out his innocent foul through ftreams of
Which blood, like facrificing Abel's, cries,
Even from the tonguelefs caverns of the earth,

Mewb. Let not my cold words here accufe my This arm fhall do it, or this life be spent.

'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this caufe betwixt us twain;
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this.
Yet can I not of fuch tame patience boast,
As to be hufh'd, and nought at all to say :
First, the fair reverence of your highnets curbs me,
From giving reins and fpurs to my free speech;
Which elfe would poft, until it had return'd
Thefe terms of treafon doubled down his throat.
Setting afide his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinfman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I fpit at him;
Call him a flanderous coward, and a villain :
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds;
And meet him, were I ty'd to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground 2 inhab table
Where ever Englishman durft fet his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty,—
By all my hopes, moft falfely doth he lie.

K. Rich. How high a pitch his refolution foars!→→→→
Thomas of Norfolk, what fay't thou to this?

Mowb. O, let my fovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
'Till I have told this flander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate fo foul a liar. [ears:
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
(As he is but my father's brother's fon)
Now by my fceptre's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearness to our facred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unftooping firmnets of my upright foul:
He is our fubject, Mowbray, to art thou;
Free fpeech, and fearlefs, I to thee allow.

Mawb. Then, Belingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the falle paffage of thy throat, thou lieft!
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Difburs'd I to his highnefs' foldiers:
The other part referv'd I by confent ;

For that my fovereign liege was in my debt,

Baling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw Upon remainder of a dear account,

my gage,

Difclaiming here the kindred of a king;
And lay afide my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except:
If guilty dread hath left thee fo much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rites of knighthood elfe,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canft worse devife.
Mowb. I take it up; and, by that fword I swear,
Which gently lay'd my knighthood on my shoulder,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

Since lait I went to France, to fetch his queen:
Now fwallow down that lie.-For- Gloiter's

death,

I flew him not; but, to mine own difgrace,
Neglected my fworn duty in that cafe.--
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,-
Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
A treipafs that doth vex my grieved foul:
But, ere I last receiv'd the facrament,
I did confefs it; and exactly begg'd
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it.

Meaning, his fword drawn in a right or juft caufe. 2 i. e: not habitable.

3 i. e. pollefs us.

K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by
Let's purge this choler without letting blood:
This we prefcribe, though no physician;
Deep malice makes too deep incifion :
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed;
Our doctors fay, this is no time to bleed.—
Good uncle, let this end where it begun ;
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your fon.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age:
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry? when?
Obedience bids, I fhould not bid again.

K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there
is no boot I.
[foot:
Mowb. Myfelf I throw, dread fovereign, at thy
My life thou shalt command, but not my fhame :
The one, my duty owes; but my fair name,
(Defpight of death, that lives upon my grave)
To dark difhonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am difgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled 2 here;
Pierc'd to the foul with flander's venom'd fpear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breath'd this poifon.

K. Rich. Rage must be withstood :
Give me his gage :-Lions make leopards tame.
Mowb. Yea, but not change their fpots: take
but my fhame,

And I refign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The pureft treasure mortal times afford,
Is-spotlefs reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
I bold fpirit in a loyal breast.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life is done :
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.

K. Rich. Coufin, throw down your gage; do you
begin.

Boling. Oh, heaven defend my fout from fuch
foul fin!

Shall I feem creft-fallen in my father's fight?
Or with pale beggar face 3 impeach my height
Before this out-dar'd daftard? Ere my tongue
Shall wound mine honour with fuch feeble wrong,
Or found fo base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The flavish motive of recanting fear;
And fpit it bleeding, in his high disgrace,
Where thame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's

face.

[Exit Gaunt.

The Duke of Lancaster's Palace.

Enter Gaunt, and Dutchess of Glofter.

Gaunt. Alas! the part 4 I had in Glofter's blood
Doth more folicit me, than your exclaims,

To ftir against the butchers of his life.
But, fince correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
Who, when they fee the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

Dutch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper (pur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's feven fons, whereof thyfelf art one,
Were as feven phial, of his facred blood,
Or feven fair branches, fpringing from one root:
Some of thofe feven are dry'd by nature's courte,
Some of thofe branches by the deftinies cut.
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glotter,--
One phial full of Edward's facred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,-
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor fpilt;
Is hack'd down, and his fummer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.

Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that

womb,

That metal, that felf-mould, that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man; and though thou liv'ft, and

breath'ft,

Yet art thou flain in him: thou doft confent
In fome large meafure to thy father's death,
In that thou feeft thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is defpair:
In fuffering thus thy brother to be flaughter'd,
Thou fhew'ft the naked path- way to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle-patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breafts.
What shall I say? to fafeguard thine own life,
The best way is to venge my Glofter's death.

Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's
substitute,

His deputy anointed in his fight,
Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minifter.

Dutch. Where then, alas! may I complain my felf?
Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and
defence.

+ 1. e.

1 i. e. no advantage in delay or refusal. 2 Baffled, in this, as has been noted in a former, place, means, treated with the greatest ignominy imaginable. 3. e. with a face of fupplication. my relation of confanguinity to Gloster.

Dutch.