That for the health and physic21 of our right,
We cannot deal but22 with the very hand
Of stern injustice and confusèd23 wrong:
And is’t not pity, O my grievèd friends,
That we, the sons and children of this isle,
Was born to see so sad an hour as this,
Wherein we step after a stranger27, march
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
Her enemies’ ranks? I must withdraw and weep
Upon the spot30 of this enforcèd cause —
To grace31 the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted32 colours here.
What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove33,
That Neptune’s arms who clippeth34 thee about,
Would bear35 thee from the knowledge of thyself,
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore36,
Where these two Christian armies might combine
The blood of malice in a vein of league,
And not to spend it so unneighbourly39.
LEWIS A noble temper40 dost thou show in this,
And great affections41 wrestling in thy bosom
Doth make an earthquake42 of nobility.
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought
Between compulsion and a brave respect44:
Let me wipe off this honourable dew45,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks:
My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears,
Being an ordinary48 inundation:
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed
Than had I seen the vaulty52 top of heaven
Figured53 quite o’er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renownèd Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave55 away this storm:
Commend these waters to those baby eyes56
That never saw the giant world enraged,
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood59, of mirth, of gossiping:
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
Into the purse of rich prosperity
As Lewis himself: so, nobles62, shall you all,
That knit your sinews63 to the strength of mine.
And even there methinks an angel64 spake.
Enter Cardinal Pandulph
Look where the holy legate comes apace65,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven
And on our actions set the name of right
With holy breath.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Hail, noble Prince of France!
The next is this: King John hath reconciled
Himself to Rome: his spirit is come in71
That so stood out against the Holy Church,
The great metropolis and see73 of Rome.
Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up74,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war,
That like a lion fostered up at hand76,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show78.
LEWIS Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back79:
I am too high-born to be propertied80,
To be a secondary at control81,
Or useful serving-man and instrument
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars
Between this chastised kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now ’tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of right89,
Acquainted me with interest90 to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine:
And, now it is half-conquered, must I back
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath Rome borne98,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop100 this action? Is’t not I
That undergo this charge101? Who else but I,
Sweat in this business and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out
‘Vive le roi’ as I have banked105 their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game
To win this easy match played for a crown107?
And shall I now give o’er the yielded set108?
No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.
CARDINAL PANDULPH You look but on the outside of this work.
LEWIS Outside or inside, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be glorified
As to my ample113 hope was promisèd
Before I drew this gallant head114 of war,
And culled115 these fiery spirits from the world
To outlook116 conquest and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.
Trumpet sounds
What lusty118 trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter [the] Bastard
BASTARD According to119 the fair play of the world,
Let me have audience120: I am sent to speak.
My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come to learn how you have dealt for him122:
And, as you answer, I do know the scope123
And warrant limited124 unto my tongue.
CARDINAL PANDULPH The dauphin is too wilful-opposite125,
And will not temporize126 with my entreaties:
He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.
BASTARD By all the blood that ever fury breathed,
The youth says well. Now hear our English king,
For thus his royalty doth speak in me:
He is prepared, and reason131 too he should:
This apish and unmannerly132 approach,
This harnessed masque and unadvisèd133 revel,
This unheard134 sauciness and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at, and is well prepared
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy136 arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand which had the strength, even at your door,
To cudgel you and make you take the hatch139,
To dive like buckets in concealèd wells,
To crouch in litter of your stable planks141,
To lie like pawns142 locked up in chests and trunks,
To hug143 with swine, to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons, and to thrill144 and shake
Even at the crying of your nation’s crow145,
Thinking this voice an armèd 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 eyrie150 towers,
To souse151 annoyance that comes near his nest:
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts152,
You bloody Neroes153, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame:
For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids
Like Amazons come tripping156 after drums:
Their thimbles into armèd gauntlets157 change,
Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
LEWIS There end thy brave, and turn thy face160 in peace:
We grant thou canst outscold161 us: fare thee well:
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler163.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Give me leave to speak.
BASTARD No, I will speak.
LEWIS We will attend166 to neither.
Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest and our being here.
BASTARD Indeed your drums, being beaten, will cry out;
And so shall you, being beaten: do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready braced172
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall
As loud as thine rattle the welkin’s175 ear
And mock the deep-mouthed thunder: for at hand —
Not trusting to this halting177 legate here,
Whom he hath used rather for sport178 than need —
Is warlike John: and in his forehead179 sits
A bare-ribbed Death, whose office180 is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.
LEWIS Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
BASTARD And thou shalt find183 it, dauphin, do not doubt.
Exeunt [at different doors]
Act 5 Scene 3
running scene 11
Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert [at different doors]
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 My lord, your valiant kinsman Falconbridge
Desires your majesty to leave the field
And send him word by me which way you go.
KING JOHN Tell him toward Swinstead8, to the abbey there.
MESSENGER Be of good comfort, for the great supply9
That was expected by the dauphin here
Are wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands11.
This news was brought to Richard12 but even now:
The French fight coldly and retire themselves13.
KING JOHN Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.
Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter16 straight;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 4
running scene 11 continues
Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot
SALISBURY I did not think the king so stored1 with friends.
PEMBROKE Up once again2: put spirit in the French:
If they miscarry3, we miscarry too.
SALISBURY That misbegotten4 devil Falconbridge
In spite of spite5, alone upholds the day.
PEMBROKE They say King John, sore6 sick, hath left the field.
Enter Melun, wounded
MELUN Lead me to the revolts7 of England here.
SALISBURY When we were happy we had other names.
PEMBROKE It is the count Melun.
SALISBURY Wounded to death.
MELUN Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold11:
Unthread the rude eye12 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,
He16 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
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 quantity24 of life,
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure26 gainst the fire?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use28 of all deceit?
Why should I then be false, since it is true
That I must die here and live hence30 by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworn32 if e’er those eyes of yours
Behold another daybreak in the east:
But even this night, whose black contagious breath
Already smokes35 about the burning crest
Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun,
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,
Paying the fine of rated38 treachery
Even with a treacherous fine39 of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert with your king:
The love of him, and this respect42 besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof45, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour46 of the field,
Where I may think the remnant47 of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.
SALISBURY We do believe thee, and beshrew50 my soul,
But I do love the favour and the form51
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread53 the steps of damnèd flight,
And like a bated54 and retirèd flood,
Leaving our rankness55 and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds56 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
Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight61,
And happy newness, that intends old right62.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 5
running scene 12
Enter Lewis and his train
LEWIS The sun of heaven, methought, was loath1 to set,
But stayed and made the western welkin2 blush,
When English measure3 backward their own ground
In faint retire: O, bravely came we off4,
When with a volley of our needless5 shot,
After such bloody toil, we bid goodnight,
And wound our tott’ring7 colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it.
Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER Where is my prince, the dauphin?
LEWIS Here: what news?
MESSENGER The count Melun is slain: the English lords
By his persuasion are again fall’n off12,
And your supply, which you have wished so long,
Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.
LEWIS Ah, foul shrewd15 news! Beshrew thy very heart!
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 stumbling19 night did part our weary powers?
MESSENGER Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
LEWIS Well: keep good quarter21 and good care tonight:
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure23 of tomorrow.
Exeunt
Act 5 Scene 6
running scene 13
Enter [the] Bastard and Hubert, severally
HUBERT Who’s there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot.
BASTARD A friend. What art thou?
HUBERT Of the part3 of England.
BASTARD Whither dost thou go?
HUBERT What’s that to thee? Why may not I demand
Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
B
ASTARD Hubert, I think?
HUBERT Thou hast a perfect8 thought:
I will upon all hazards9 well believe
Thou art my friend, that know’st my tongue so well.
Who art thou?
BASTARD Who thou wilt: and if thou please,
Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think
I come one way of14 the Plantagenets.
HUBERT Unkind remembrance15! Thou and endless night
Have done me shame: brave soldier, pardon me,
That any accent breaking17 from thy tongue
Should scape18 the true acquaintance of mine ear.
BASTARD Come, come: sans compliment: what news abroad19?
HUBERT Why, here walk I in the black brow of night,
To find you out21.
BASTARD Brief22, then: and what’s the news?
HUBERT O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.
BASTARD Show me the very wound25 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 out28
To acquaint you with this evil, that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time30,
Than if you had at leisure31 known of this.
BASTARD How did he take it? Who did taste32 to him?
HUBERT A monk, I tell you, a resolvèd villain,
Whose bowels34 suddenly burst out: the king
Yet speaks and peradventure35 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 Henry38 in their company,
At whose request the king hath pardoned them,