140 To crouch in litter of your stable planks,

  To lie like pawns locked up in chests and trunks,

  To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out

  In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake

  Even at the crying of your nation’s crow, [b4va]

  145 Thinking this voice an armed Englishman –

  Shall that victorious hand be feebled here

  That in your chambers gave you chastisement?

  No! Know the gallant monarch is in arms

  And like an eagle o’er his eyrie towers,

  150 To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.

  And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,

  You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb

  Of your dear mother England, blush for shame!

  For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids

  155 Like Amazons come tripping after drums,

  Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,

  Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts

  To fierce and bloody inclination.

  DAUPHIN

  There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace.

  160 We grant thou canst out-scold us. Fare thee well,

  We hold our time too precious to be spent

  With such a brabbler.

  PANDULPH Give me leave to speak.

  BASTARD

  No, I will speak.

  DAUPHIN We will attend to neither.

  Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war

  165 Plead for our interest and our being here.

  BASTARD

  Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;

  And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start

  An echo with the clamour of thy drum,

  And even at hand a drum is ready braced

  170 That shall reverberate all as loud as thine.

  Sound but another, and another shall

  As loud as thine rattle the welkin’s ear,

  And mock the deep-mouthed thunder, for at hand –

  Not trusting to this halting legate here,

  175 Whom he hath used rather for sport than need –

  Is warlike John, and in his forehead sits

  A bare-ribbed death, whose office is this day

  To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

  DAUPHIN

  Strike up our drums to find this danger out.

  [Drums sound.]

  BASTARD

  And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. Exeunt.

  [5.]3 Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT.

  KING JOHN

  How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.

  HUBERT

  Badly I fear; how fares your majesty?

  KING JOHN

  This fever that hath troubled me so long

  Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick.

  Enter a Messenger.

  MESSENGER

  5 My lord, your valiant kinsman Faulconbridge

  Desires your majesty to leave the field

  And send him word by me which way you go.

  KING JOHN

  Tell him toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.

  MESSENGER

  Be of good comfort, for the great supply

  10 That was expected by the Dauphin here

  Are wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands.

  This news was brought to Richard but even now;

  The French fight coldly and retire themselves.

  KING JOHN

  Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up

  15 And will not let me welcome this good news.

  Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight;

  Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. Exeunt.

  [5.]4 Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE and BIGOT.

  SALISBURY

  I did not think the King so stored with friends.

  PEMBROKE

  Up once again; put spirit in the French;

  If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

  SALISBURY

  That misbegotten devil Faulconbridge,

  5 In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

  PEMBROKE

  They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.

  Enter MELUN wounded[, led].

  MELUN

  Lead me to the revolts of England here.

  SALISBURY

  When we were happy we had other names.

  PEMBROKE

  It is the Count Melun.

  SALISBURY Wounded to death.

  MELUN

  10 Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold.

  Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

  And welcome home again discarded faith.

  Seek out King John and fall before his feet.

  For if the French be lords of this loud day

  15 He means to recompense the pains you take

  By cutting off your heads: thus hath he sworn,

  And I with him, and many more with me

  Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury;

  Even on that altar where we swore to you

  20 Dear amity and everlasting love.

  SALISBURY

  May this be possible? May this be true?

  MELUN

  Have I not hideous death within my view,

  Retaining but a quantity of life

  Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax

  25 Resolveth from his figure ’gainst the fire?

  What in the world should make me now deceive,

  Since I must lose the use of all deceit?

  Why should I then be false, since it is true

  That I must die here, and live hence by truth?

  30 I say again, if Lewis do win the day

  He is forsworn if e’er those eyes of yours

  Behold another day break in the east.

  But even this night, whose black contagious breath

  Already smokes about the burning crest

  35 Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun,

  Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,

  Paying the fine of rated treachery

  Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,

  If Lewis by your assistance win the day.

  40 Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;

  The love of him, and this respect besides,

  For that my grandsire was an Englishman,

  Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

  In lieu whereof, I pray you bear me hence

  45 From forth the noise and rumour of the field,

  Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts

  In peace, and part this body and my soul

  With contemplation and devout desires.

  SALISBURY

  We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul

  50 But I do love the favour and the form

  Of this most fair occasion, by the which

  We will untread the steps of damned flight,

  And like a bated and retired flood,

  Leaving our rankness and irregular course,

  55 Stoop low within those bounds we have o’erlooked

  And calmly run on in obedience

  Even to our ocean, to our great King John.

  My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence,

  For I do see the cruel pangs of death [b5ra]

  60 Right in thine eye. Away, my friends; new flight,

  And happy newness, that intends old right.

  Exeunt[, assisting Melun].

  [5.]5 Enter [Lewis the] DAUPHIN, and his Train.

  DAUPHIN

  The sun of heaven methought was loath to set,

  But stayed and made the western welkin blush,

  When English measured backward their own ground

  In faint retire. O, bravely came we off,

  5 When with a volley of our needless shot,

  After such bloody toil, we bid goodnight

  And wound our tottering colours clearly up,

  Last in the field, and almost lords of it.

  Enter a Messenger.

  MESSENGER

  Where is my prince, the Dauphin?

  DAUPHIN Here, what news?

  MESSENGER

  10 The Count Melun is slain. The English lords

  By his persuasion are again fallen off;

  And your supply, which you have wished so long,

  Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.

  DAUPHIN

  Ah, foul, shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart:

  15 I did not think to be so sad tonight

  As this hath made me. Who was he that said

  King John did fly an hour or two before

  The stumbling night did part our weary powers?

  MESSENGER

  Who ever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

  DAUPHIN

  20 Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight.

  The day shall not be up so soon as I

  To try the fair adventure of tomorrow. Exeunt.

  [5.]6 Enter BASTARD and HUBERT, severally.

  HUBERT

  Who’s there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot.

  BASTARD

  A friend. What art thou?

  HUBERT Of the part of England.

  BASTARD

  Whither dost thou go?

  HUBERT What’s that to thee?

  BASTARD

  Why may not I demand of thine affairs

  5 As well as thou of mine? Hubert, I think.

  HUBERT

  Thou hast a perfect thought.

  I will upon all hazards well believe

  Thou art my friend that know’st my tongue so well.

  Who art thou?

  BASTARD Who thou wilt. An if thou please,

  10 Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think

  I come one way of the Plantagenets.

  HUBERT

  Unkind remembrance! Thou and endless night

  Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me

  That any accent breaking from thy tongue

  15 Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

  BASTARD

  Come, come, sans compliment, what news abroad?

  HUBERT

  Why, here walk I in the black brow of night

  To find you out.

  BASTARD Brief then, and what’s the news? [b5rb]

  HUBERT

  O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,

  20 Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.

  BASTARD

  Show me the very wound of this ill news:

  I am no woman, I’ll not swoon at it.

  HUBERT

  The King, I fear, is poisoned by a monk;

  I left him almost speechless, and broke out

  25 To acquaint you with this evil, that you might

  The better arm you to the sudden time

  Than if you had at leisure known of this.

  BASTARD

  How did he take it? Who did taste to him?

  HUBERT

  A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain,

  30 Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King

  Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover.

  BASTARD

  Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?

  HUBERT

  Why, know you not? The lords are all come back

  And brought Prince Henry in their company,

  35 At whose request the King hath pardoned them,

  And they are all about his majesty.

  BASTARD

  Withhold thine indignation, mighty God,

  And tempt us not to bear above our power.

  I’ll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,

  40 Passing these flats, are taken by the tide –

  These Lincoln Washes have devoured them;

  Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped.

  Away before; conduct me to the King.

  I doubt he will be dead or e’er I come. Exeunt.

  [5.]7 Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY and BIGOT.

  HENRY

  It is too late. The life of all his blood

  Is touched corruptibly, and his pure brain,

  Which some suppose the soul’s frail dwelling house,

  Doth by the idle comments that it makes

  5 Foretell the ending of mortality.

  Enter PEMBROKE.

  PEMBROKE

  His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief

  That, being brought into the open air,

  It would allay the burning quality

  Of that fell poison which assaileth him.

  HENRY

  Let him be brought into the orchard here. [Exit Bigot.]

  Doth he still rage?

  11 PEMBROKE He is more patient

  Than when you left him: even now, he sung.

  HENRY

  O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes

  In their continuance will not feel themselves.

  15 Death having preyed upon the outward parts,

  Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now

  Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds

  With many legions of strange fantasies,

  Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,

  20 Confound themselves. ’Tis strange that death should sing.

  I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

  Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,

  And from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings

  His soul and body to their lasting rest.

  SALISBURY

  25 Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born

  To set a form upon that indigest

  Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

  [KING] JOHN [is] brought in.

  KING JOHN

  Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room:

  It would not out at windows nor at doors. [b5va]

  30 There is so hot a summer in my bosom

  That all my bowels crumble up to dust.

  I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen

  Upon a parchment, and against this fire

  Do I shrink up.

  HENRY How fares your majesty?

  KING JOHN

  35 Poisoned, ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off,

  And none of you will bid the winter come

  To thrust his icy fingers in my maw,

  Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course

  Through my burned bosom, nor entreat the north

  40 To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips

  And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much.

  I beg cold comfort, and you are so strait

  And so ungrateful, you deny me that.

  HENRY

  O, that there were some virtue in my tears

  That might relieve you.

  45 KING JOHN The salt in them is hot.

  Within me is a hell, and there the poison

  Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize

  On unreprievable, condemned blood.

  Enter BASTARD.

  BASTARD

  O, I am scalded with my violent motion

  50 And spleen of speed to see your majesty!

  KING JOHN

  O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye.

  The tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt,

  And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail

  Are turned to one thread, one little hair.

  55 My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,

  Which holds but till thy news be uttered,

  And then all this thou seest is but a clod

  And module of confounded royalty.

  BASTARD

  The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,

  60 Where God he knows how we shall answer him.

  For in a night the best part of my power,

  As I upon advantage did remove,

  Were in the Washes all unwarily

  Devoured by the unexpected flood. [King John dies.]

  SALISBURY [Sees that King John is dead.]

  65 You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.

  My liege, my lord! – but now a king, now thus.

  HENRY

  E’en so must I run on and e’en so stop.

  What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,

  When this was now a king, and now is clay?

  BASTARD

  70 Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind

  To do the office for thee of revenge,

  And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,

  As it on earth hath been thy servant still. [b5vb]

  [to the Lords] Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres,

  75 Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths,

  And instantly return with me again

  To push destruction and perpetual shame

  Out of the weak door of our fainting land.

  Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought:

  80 The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

  SALISBURY

  It seems you know not then so much as we.

  The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,

  Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,

  And brings from him such offers of our peace

  85 As we with honour and respect may take

  With purpose presently to leave this war.

  BASTARD

  He will the rather do it when he sees

  Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.

  SALISBURY

  Nay, ’tis in a manner done already.

  90 For many carriages he hath dispatched

  To the seaside, and put his cause and quarrel

  To the disposing of the cardinal,

  With whom yourself, myself and other lords,

  If you think meet, this afternoon will post

  95 To consummate this business happily.

  BASTARD

  Let it be so; and you, my noble prince,

  With other princes that may best be spared,

  Shall wait upon your father’s funeral.

  HENRY

  At Worcester must his body be interred,

  For so he willed it.

  100 BASTARD Thither shall it then;

  And happily may your sweet self put on

  The lineal state and glory of the land –

  To whom with all submission, on my knee,

  I do bequeath my faithful services

  105 And true subjection everlastingly. [Kneels.]

  SALISBURY

  And the like tender of our love we make

  To rest without a spot for evermore. [The Lords kneel.]

  HENRY

  I have a kind of soul that would give thanks,

  And knows not how to do it but with tears.