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- {\rtf0\ansi{\fonttbl{\f0\froman Times Roman;}{\f1\fmodern Courier;}}
- {\pard\f0\fs28{\fs48 King John
- }\
- \
- {\b\fs36 5.7}
- \
- {\i Enter Prince Henry, the Earl of Salisbury, and Lord\
- Bigot\
- }{\b \fs24 PRINCE 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\
- Foretell the ending of mortality. {\fs20 5}\
- {\i Enter the Earl of Pembroke\
- }{\b \fs24 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.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } Let him be brought into the orchard here.\'b1\'b1 {\fs20 10}\
- {\i [Exit Lord Bigot]\
- } Doth he still rage?\
- {\b \fs24 PEMBROKE} He is more patient\
- Than when you left him. Even now, he sung.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } O, vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes\
- In their continuance will not feel themselves.\
- Death, having preyed upon the outward parts, {\fs20 15}\
- Leaves them invincible, 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\
- Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should\
- sing. {\fs20 20}\
- 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.\
- {\b \fs24 SALISBURY\
- } Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born {\fs20 25}\
- To set a form upon that indigest\
- Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.\
- {\i King John is brought in, [with Lord Bigot attending]\
- }{\b \fs24 KING JOHN\
- } Ay marry, now my soul hath elbow-room;\
- It would not out at windows nor at doors.\
- There is so hot a summer in my bosom {\fs20 30}\
- 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.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY} How fares your majesty?\
- {\b \fs24 KING JOHN\
- } Poisoned, ill fare! Dead, forsook, cast off; {\fs20 35}\
- 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\
- To make his bleak winds kiss my parche\'c1d lips {\fs20 40}\
- And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much;\
- I beg cold comfort, and you are so strait\
- And so ingrateful you deny me that.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } O, that there were some virtue in my tears\
- That might relieve you!\
- {\b \fs24 KING JOHN} The salt in them is hot. {\fs20 45}\
- Within me is a hell, and there the poison\
- Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize\
- On unreprievable condemne\'c1d blood.\
- {\i Enter the Bastard\
- }{\b \fs24 BASTARD\
- } O, I am scalded with my violent motion\
- And spleen of speed to see your majesty! {\fs20 50}\
- {\b \fs24 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 turne\'c1d to one thread, one little hair;\
- My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, {\fs20 55}\
- Which holds but till thy news be uttere\'c1d,\
- And then all this thou seest is but a clod\
- And module of confounded royalty.\
- {\b \fs24 BASTARD\
- } The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,\
- Where God He knows how we shall answer him; {\fs20 60}\
- For in a night the best part of my power,\
- As I upon advantage did remove,\
- Were in the Washes all unwarily\
- Devoure\'c1d by the unexpected flood.\
- {\i King John dies\
- }{\b \fs24 SALISBURY\
- } You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. {\fs20 65}\
- {\i (To King John)} My liege, my lord!\'b1\'b1But now a king,\
- now thus.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } 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?\
- {\b \fs24 BASTARD}{\i (to King John)\
- } Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind {\fs20 70}\
- 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.\
- {\i (To the lords)} Now, now, you stars that move in your\
- right spheres,\
- Where be your powers? Show now your mended\
- faiths, {\fs20 75}\
- 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.\
- The Dauphin rages at our very heels. {\fs20 80}\
- {\b \fs24 SALISBURY\
- } It seems you know not, then, so much as we.\
- The Cardinal Pandolf is within at rest,\
- Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,\
- And brings from him such offers of our peace\
- As we with honour and respect may take, {\fs20 85}\
- With purpose presently to leave this war.\
- {\b \fs24 BASTARD\
- } He will the rather do it when he sees\
- Ourselves well-sinewed to our own defence.\
- {\b \fs24 SALISBURY\
- } Nay, 'tis in a manner done already,\
- For many carriages he hath dispatched {\fs20 90}\
- To the sea-side, 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\
- To consummate this business happily. {\fs20 95}\
- {\b \fs24 BASTARD\
- } Let it be so.\'b1\'b1And you, my noble prince,\
- With other princes that may best be spared,\
- Shall wait upon your father's funeral.\
- {\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } At Worcester must his body be interred,\
- For so he willed it.\
- {\b \fs24 BASTARD} Thither shall it then, {\fs20 100}\
- 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. {\fs20 105}\
- {\i He kneels\
- }{\b \fs24 SALISBURY\
- } And the like tender of our love we make,\
- To rest without a spot for evermore.\
- {\i Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot kneel\
- }{\b \fs24 PRINCE HENRY\
- } I have a kind of soul that would give thanks,\
- And knows not how to do it but with tears.\
- {\i He weeps\
- }{\b \fs24 BASTARD}{\i [rising]\
- } O, let us pay the time but needful woe, {\fs20 110}\
- 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, {\fs20 115}\
- Come the three corners of the world in arms\
- And we shall shock them. Naught shall make us rue\
- If England to itself do rest but true.\
- {\i [Flourish.] Exeunt [with the body]\
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