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Retaining but a quantity of life,
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 24
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?

32

37

Why should I then be false, since it is true
28
That I must die here and live hence by truth?
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
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.
Commend me to one Hubert with your king; 40
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 44
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.

48

Sal. We do believe thee: and beshrew my soul

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, 52 And like a bated and retired flood,

Leaving our rankness and irregular course,

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Lew.

Here: what news? Mess. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords,

By his persuasion, are again fall'n off;
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long,
Are cast away and sunk, on Goodwin sands. 13
Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy
very heart!

I did not think to be so sad to-night
As this hath made me. Who was he that said 16
King John did fly an hour or two before

The stumbling night did part our weary powers?
Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well; keep good quarter and good care
to-night:

20

The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.

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56

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Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
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 flight;
And happy newness, that intends old right. 61
[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.

I will upon all hazards well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well.

Who art thou?

8

Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets.

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But stay'd and made the western welkin blush,

ear.

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My liege! my lord! But now a king, now thus. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop.

What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay? 69

Bast. 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. Now, now, you stars, that move in your right

spheres,

73

Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths,

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92

Bast Let it be so. And you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spar'd, 97 Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd;

For so he will'd it. Bast.

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 And true subjection everlastingly.

100

104

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore.

P. Hen. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks,

108

112

And knows not how to do it but with tears.
Bast. O! let us pay the time but needful woe
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms, 116
And we shall shock them. Nought shall make

us rue,

80 | If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt.]

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SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN OF GAUNT, and other Nobles.

K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,

Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, 4 Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Gaunt. I have, my liege.

K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,

8

If he appeal the duke on ancient malice,
Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery achery in him?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that
argument,

12

On some apparent danger seen in him
Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence:
face to face,

And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear

The accuser and the accused freely speak:

17

[Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and

MOWBRAY.

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And mark my greeting well; for what I speak 36 It must be great that can inherit us
My body shall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
Thou art a traitor and a miscreant;
Too good to be so and too bad to live,
Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; 44
And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move,

So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall
prove it true;

40 That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand
nobles

88

In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ-

ments,

What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword

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Like a false traitor and injurious villain.
Besides I say and will in battle prove,
Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge
That ever was survey'd by English eye,
That all the treasons for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and

92

96

spring.

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Further I say and further will maintain
Upon his bad life to make all this good,
That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,
And consequently, like a traitor coward,
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams

ΙΟΙ

of blood:

From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post until it had return'd 56
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I spit at him;

104

Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, To me for justice and rough chastisement; 60 And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!

108

64 Thomas of Norfolk, what sayst thou to this? Mow. O! let my sovereign turn away his face

Call him a slanderous coward and a villain:
Which to maintain I would allow him odds,
And meet him, were I tied to run afoot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable,
Wherever Englishman durst set his foot.
Meantime let this defend my loyalty:
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw
my gage,

68

Disclaiming here the kindred of the king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex-

cept:

72 If guilty dread have left thee so much strength As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 76 What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. Mow. I take it up; and by that sword I

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Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, -
As he is but my father's brother's son, -
Now, by my sceptre's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 120
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.
He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:
Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.
Mow. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy
heart,

124

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.

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