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Good morning. This is the BBC. Here is the news

Crowds gathered in their thousands yesterday...

...to celebrate the coronation of His Majesty King John of the House of Plantagenet

In his inaugural address, the King expressed his great concern for the health of the nation...

...and promised to deliver an era of wealth, prosperity and security

His Majesty was attended by a large royal party...

...including his niece, the Lady Blanche of Castile...

...and the Queen Mother, who wore Chanel

The absence of the King's nephew, Arthur of Bretagne...

...was highlighted by critics of the King...

...as a sign of increasing tensions within the family

It is rumoured that Arthur, with the aid of his mother, Lady Constance...

...has sought the military support of King Philip of France...

...to further pursue his claim to the English throne

This familial divide looks to throw a shadow...

...over the beginning of our new monarch's reign

In other news, demonstrations have been taking place...

...at abbeys and other religious sites across the country...

...in protest at His Majesty's increased...

Now, say, Chatillon what would France with us?

Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France in my behaviour to the majesty...

...the borrowed majesty, of England here

A strange beginning, "borrowed majesty"

Silence, good mother. Hear the embassy

Philip of France, in right and true behalf of thy deceased brother Geoffrey's son...

...Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim to this fair island and the territories...

...to Ireland, Poitiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine...

...desiring thee to lay aside the sword which sways usurpingly these several titles...

...and put these same into young Arthur's hand, thy nephew and right royal sovereign

What follows if we disallow of this?

The proud control of fierce and bloody war, to enforce these rights so forcibly withheld

Here have we war for war and blood for blood, controlment for controlment. So answer France

Then take my king's defiance from my mouth, the farthest limit of my embassy

Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace

Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France

For ere thou canst report I will be there...

...the thunder of my cannon shall be heard. So hence!

Be thou the trumpet of our wrath and sullen presage of your own decay

An honourable conduct let him have. Pembroke, look to it

Farewell, Chatillon

What now, my son! Have I not ever said how that ambitious Constance would not cease...

...till she had kindled France, and all the world, upon the right and party of her son?

This might have been prevented and made whole with very easy arguments of love...

...which now the manage of two kingdoms must with fearful bloody issue arbitrate

Our strong possession and our right for us

Your strong possession much more than your right...

...or else it must go wrong with you and me

So much my conscience whispers in your ear...

...which none but heaven and you and I shall hear

My liege, here is the strangest controversy come from country to be judged by you...

- ...that e'er I heard. Shall I produce the men? - Let them approach

Our abbeys and our priories shall pay this expedition's charge

What men are you?

Your faithful subject I, a gentleman born in Northamptonshire...

...and eldest son, as I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge

A soldier, by the honour-giving hand of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field

- What art thou? - The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge

Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?

You came not of one mother then, it seems

Most certain of one mother, mighty king. That is well known. And, as I think, one father

But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother

Of that I doubt, as all men's children may

Out on thee, rude man!

Thou dost shame thy mother and wound her honour with this diffidence

I, madam? No, I have no reason for it. That is my brother's plea and none of mine

The which if he can prove, a' pops me out at least from fair five hundred pound a year

Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land!

A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slandered me with bastardy

But whether I be as true begot or no, that still I lay upon my mother's head

But that I am as well begot, my liege...

Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!

Compare our faces and be judge yourself

If old Sir Robert did beget us both and were our father and this son like him...

...O, old Sir Robert, father, on my knee I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee

Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!

He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face, the accent of his tongue affecteth him

Do you not read some tokens of my son in the large composition of this man?

Mine eye hath well examined his parts and finds them perfect Richard

Sirrah, speak.

What doth move you to claim your brother's land?

My gracious liege, when that my father lived, your brother did employ my father much

Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land. Your tale must be how he employed my mother

And once dispatched him in an embassy to Germany...

... there with the emperor to treat of high affairs touching that time

The advantage of his absence took the king and in the meantime sojourned at my father's

Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, but truth is truth

Large lengths of seas and shores between my mother and my father lay...

...as I have heard my father speak himself, when this same lusty gentleman was got

Upon his death-bed he by will bequeathed his lands to me...

...and took it on his death that this my mother's son was none of his

And if he were, he came into the world full fourteen weeks before the course of time

Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, my father's lands, as was my father's will

Sirrah, your brother is legitimate

Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, and if she did play false, the fault was hers

Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands that marry wives

Tell me, how if my brother, who, as you say, took pains to get this son...

...had of your father claimed this son for his?

In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept...

...this calf bred from his cow from all the world

In sooth he might.

Then, if he were my brother's, my brother might not claim him

Nor your father, being none of his, refuse him.

This concludes...

...my mother's son did get your father's heir...

...your father's heir must have your father's land

Shall then my father's will be of no force to dispossess that child which is not his?

Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, than was his will to get me, as I think

Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge and like thy brother, to enjoy thy land...

...or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, lord of thy presence and no land beside?

Madam, an if my brother had my shape, and I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him...

...and if my legs were two such riding-rods, my arms such eel-skins stuffed...

...my face so thin that in mine ear I durst not stick a rose...

...lest men should say "Look, where three-farthings goes!"

And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, would I might never stir from off this place...

...I would give it every foot to have this face. I would not be Sir Nob in any case

I like thee well.

Wilt thou forsake thy fortune, bequeath thy land to him and follow me?

I am a soldier and am now bound to France

Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance

Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear

- Madam, I'll follow you unto the death - The very spirit of Plantagenet!

- What is thy name? - Philip, my liege, so is my name begun

Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son

From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest

Kneel thou down Philip...

...but rise more great.

Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet

I am thy grandam, Richard. Call me so

Madam, by chance but not by truth. What though?

Something about, a little from the right, in at the window, or else o'er the hatch

Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, and have is have, however men do catch

Near or far off, well won is still well shot, and I am I, howe'er I was begot

Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed...

...for France, for France, for it is more than need

Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee, for thou wast got in the way of honesty

A foot of honour better than I was, but many a many foot of land the worse

Well, now can I make any Joan a lady

"Good den, Sir Richard!" "God-a-mercy, fellow!"

And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter, for new-made honour doth forget men's names

'Tis too respective and too sociable for your conversion

This is worshipful society and fits the mounting spirit like myself

For he is but a bastard to the time that doth not smack of observation

And so am I, whether I smack or no

And not alone in habit and device, exterior form, outward accoutrement...

...but from the inward motion to deliver sweet, sweet, sweet poison from the age's tooth

Which, though I will not practise to deceive, yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn

For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising

O, me, it is my mother. How now, good lady! What brings you here to court so hastily?

Where is that slave, thy brother? Where is he, that holds in chase mine honour up and down?

My brother Robert? Old Sir Robert's son?

Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man?

- Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so? - Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy...

...Sir Robert's son. Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert?

He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou

Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son

Sir Robert might have eat his part in me upon Good Friday and ne'er broke his fast

Sir Robert could do well, marry, to confess, could he get me?

Sir Robert could not do it

We know his handiwork.

Therefore, good mother, to whom am I beholding for these limbs?

Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, that for thine own gain...

...shouldst defend mine honour?

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

I have disclaimed Sir Robert and my land.

Legitimation, name and all is gone

Then, good my mother, let me know my father

Some proper man, I hope.

Who was it, mother?

Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?

As faithfully as I deny the devil

King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father

By long and vehement suit I was seduced to make room for him in my husband's bed

Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge!

Thou art the issue of my dear offence...

...which was so strongly urged past my defence

Some sins do bear their privilege on earth.

And so doth yours

Your fault was not your folly

Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, subjected tribute to commanding love...

...against whose fury and unmatched force...

...the aweless lion could not wage the fight...

...nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand

He that perforce robs lions of their hearts may easily take a woman's

Come, lady

I will show thee to my kin...

...and they shall say, when Richard me begot, if thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin

Who says it was, he lies

I say 'twas not

Before Angiers well met, brave Austria

Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood...

...Richard, that robbed the lion of his heart...

...and fought the holy wars in Palestine, by this brave duke came early to his grave

And for amends to his posterity, at our importance hither is he come...

...to spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf...

...and to rebuke the usurpation of thy unnatural uncle, English John

Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither

God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death...

...the rather that you give his offspring life...

...shadowing their right under your wings of war

I give you welcome with a powerless hand, but with a heart full of unstained love

Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke

A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?

Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, as seal to this indenture of my love

That to my home I will no more return...

...till Angiers and the right thou hast in France...

...together with that pale, that white-faced shore...

...whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides...

...and coops from other lands her islanders

Even till that England, hedged in with the main...

...that water-walled bulwark, still secure and confident from foreign purposes...

...even till that utmost corner of the west salute thee for her king...

...till then, fair boy, will I not think of home, but follow arms

O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks...

...till your strong hand shall help to give him strength...

...to make a more requital to your love

The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords...

...in such a just and charitable war

Well then, to work.

Our cannon shall be bent against the brows of this resisting town

Call for our chiefest men of discipline, to cull the plots of best advantages

We'll lay before this town our royal bones...

...wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood...

...but we will make it subject to this boy

Stay for an answer to your embassy...

...lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood

My Lord Chatillon may from England bring that right in peace which here we urge in war

And then we shall repent each drop of blood that hot rash haste so indirectly shed

A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish, our messenger Chatillon is arrived

What England says, say briefly, gentle lord. We coldly pause for thee, Chatillon, speak

Then turn your forces from this paltry siege and stir them up against a mightier task

England, impatient of your just demands, hath put himself in arms

The adverse winds, whose leisure I have stayed...

...have given him time to land his legions all as soon as I

His marches are expedient to this town, his forces strong, his soldiers confident

With him along is come the mother-queen, an Ate, stirring him to blood and strife

With her her niece, the Lady Blanche of Spain...

...with them a bastard of the king's deceased...

...and all the unsettled humours of the land, rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries...

...with ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens...

...have sold their fortunes at their native homes...

...bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs...

...to make hazard of new fortunes here

In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits...

...than now the English bottoms have waft o'er...

...did ne'er float upon the swelling tide, to do offence and scathe in Christendom

The interruption of their churlish drums...

...cuts off more circumstance. They are at hand, to parley or to fight.

Therefore prepare

How much unlooked for is this expedition!

By how much unexpected, by so much we must awake endeavour for defence

For courage mounteth with occasion.

Let them be welcome then, we are prepared

Peace be to France, if France in peace permit our just and lineal entrance to our own

If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven...

...whiles we, God's wrathful agent...

...do correct their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven

Peace be to England, if that war return from France to England...

...there to live in peace

England we love, and for that England's sake with burden of our armour here we sweat

This toil of ours should be a work of thine. But thou from loving England art so far...

...that thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, cut off the sequence of posterity...

...out-faced infant state and done a rape upon the maiden virtue of the crown

Look here upon thy brother Geoffrey's face

These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his

This little abstract doth contain that large which died in Geoffrey

And the hand of time shall draw this brief into as huge a volume

That Geoffrey was thy elder brother born, and this his son

England was Geoffrey's right and this is Geoffrey's, in the name of God

How comes it then that thou art called a king...

...when living blood doth in these temples beat...

...which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?

From whom hast thou this great commission, France...

...to draw my answer from thy articles?

From that supernal judge, that stirs good thoughts...

...in any breast of strong authority...

...to look into the blots and stains of right

That judge hath made me guardian to this boy

Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong and by whose help I mean to chastise it

- Alack, thou dost usurp authority - Excuse, it is to beat usurping down

- Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? - Let me make answer. Thy usurping son

Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king...

...that thou mayst be a queen, and check the world

My bed was ever to thy son as true as thine was to thy husband

And this boy liker in feature...

...to his father Geoffrey than thou and John in manners...

...being as like as rain to water, or devil to his dam

My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think his father never was so true begot

It cannot be, if thou wert his mother

There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father

There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee

- Peace! - Hear the crier

What the devil art thou?

One that will play the devil, sir, with you, an a' may catch your hide and you alone

You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard

I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right.

Sirrah, look to't. I' faith, I will, i' faith

O, well did he become the lion's robe that did disrobe the lion of that robe!

It lies as sightly on the back of him as great Hercules' shows upon an ass

But, ass, I'll take that burthen from your back...

...or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack

What craker is this same that deafs our ears with this abundance of superfluous breath?

- Lewis, determine what we shall do straight - Women and fools, break off your conference

King John, this is the very sum of all

England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, in right of Arthur do I claim of thee

- Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? - My life as soon. I do defy thee, France

Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand

And out of my dear love I'll give thee more than e'er the coward hand of France can win

Submit thee, boy

- Come to thy grandam, child - Do, child, go to it grandam, child

Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig

- There's a good grandam - Good my mother, peace!

I would that I were low laid in my grave. I am not worth this coil that's made for me

His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps

Now shame upon you, whether she does or no

His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames...

...draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes...

...which heaven shall take in nature of a fee

Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed...

...to do him justice and revenge on you

Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!

Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! Call not me slanderer

Thou and thine usurp the dominations...

...royalties and rights of this oppressed boy

This is thy eldest son's son, infortunate in nothing but in thee

Thy sins are visited in this poor child...

...being but the second generation removed from thy sin-conceiving womb

Bedlam, have done!

I have but this to say, that he is not only plagued for her sin...

...but God hath made her sin and her the plague on this removed issue

Plague for her and with her plague, her sin his injury...

...her injury the beadle to her sin

All punished in the person of this child, and all for her, a plague upon her!

Peace, lady! Pause, or be more temperate

It ill beseems this presence to cry aim to these ill-tuned repetitions

Some trumpet summon hither to the walls these men of Angiers

Let us hear them speak whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's

Who is it that hath warned us to the walls?

'Tis France, for England

England, for itself. You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects...

You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects...

...our trumpet called you to this gentle parle...

For our advantage. Therefore hear us first

These flags of France, that are advanced here before the eye and prospect of your town...

...have hither marched to your endamagement

The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, and ready mounted are they...

...to spit forth their iron indignation 'gainst your walls

All preparation for a bloody siege, all merciless proceeding by these French...

...confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates

And but for our approach those sleeping stones...

...that as a waist doth girdle you about...

...by the compulsion of their ordinance by this time from their fixed beds of lime...

...had been dishabited, and wide havoc made for bloody power to rush upon your peace

But on the sight of us your lawful king...

...who painfully with much expedient march...

...have brought a countercheck before your gates...

...to save unscratched your city's threatened cheeks...

...behold, the French amazed vouchsafe a parle

And now, instead of bullets wrapped in fire, to make a shaking fever in your walls...

...they shoot but calm words folded up in smoke...

...to make a faithless error in your ears

Which trust accordingly, kind citizens...

...and let us in, your king, whose laboured spirits...

...forwearied in this action of swift speed, crave harbourage within your city walls

When I have said, make answer to us both

Lo, in this right hand...

...whose protection is most divinely vowed upon the right of him it holds...

...stands young Plantagenet, son to the elder brother...

...of this man, and king o'er him and all that he enjoys

For this down-trodden equity, we tread...

...in warlike march these greens before your town...

...being no further enemy to you than the constraint of hospitable zeal...

...in the relief of this oppressed child religiously provokes

Be pleased then to pay that duty which you truly owe...

...to him that owes it, namely this young prince

Then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, save in aspect, hath all offence sealed up

Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent against the invulnerable clouds of heaven

And with a blessed and unvexed retire...

...with unhacked swords and helmets all unbruised...

...we will bear home that lusty blood again...

...which here we came to spout against your town...

...and leave your children, wives and you in peace

But if you fondly pass our proffered offer...

...'tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls...

...can hide you from our messengers of war...

...though all these English and their discipline...

...were harboured in their rude circumference

Then tell us, shall your city call us lord, in that behalf which we have challenged it?

Or shall we give the signal to our rage and stalk in blood to our possession?

In brief, we are the king of England's subjects

For him, and in his right, we hold this town

Acknowledge then the king, and let me in

That can we not.

But he that proves the king, to him will we prove loyal

Till that time have we rammed up our gates against the world

Doth not the crown of England prove the king?

And if not that, I bring you witnesses...

...twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed...

- Bastards, and else - ...to verify our title with their lives

- As many and as well-born bloods as those... - Some bastards too

Stand in his face to contradict his claim

Till you compound whose right is worthiest, we for the worthiest hold the right from both

Then God forgive the sin of all those souls that to their everlasting residence...

...before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet...

...in dreadful trial of our kingdom's king

Amen, amen! Mount, chevaliers! To arms!

Saint George, that swinged the dragon...

...and e'er since sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, teach us some fence!

Sirrah, were I at home, at your den, sirrah, with your lioness...

...I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, and make a monster of you

- Peace! No more - O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar

Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth in best appointment all our regiments

Speed then, to take advantage of the field

It shall be so, and at the other hill command the rest to stand

God and our right!

People of Angiers, open wide your gates...

...and let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in...

...who by the hand of France this day...

...shall make much work for tears in many an English mother...

...whose sons will lie scattered on the bleeding ground...

...coldly embracing the discoloured earth

And victory, with little loss, shall play upon the dancing banners of the French...

...who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, to enter conquerors...

...and to proclaim Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours

Rejoice, people of Angiers, ring your bells

King John, your king and England's, doth approach...

...commander of this hot malicious day

Their armours, that march hence so silver-bright...

...will now return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood

Open your gates and give the victors way

Both are alike, and both alike we like

One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even...

...we hold our town for neither, yet for both

France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?

Say, shall the current of our right run on?

England, thou hast not saved one drop of blood...

...in this hot trial, more than we of France

Rather, lost more.

And by this hand I swear...

...that here holds up his right, we'll put thee down

Ha, majesty! How high thy glory towers...

...when the rich blood of kings is set on fire!

O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel...

...the swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs

And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, in undetermined differences of kings

Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

Speak, citizens, for England. Who's your king?

The king of England, when we know the king

Know him in us, that here hold up his right

In us, that are our own great deputy and bear possession of our person here...

...lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you

A greater power than we denies all this

And till it be undoubted, we do lock our former scruple in our strong-barred gates

Kinged of our fears, until our fears, resolved...

...be by some certain king purged and deposed

By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings...

...and stand securely on their battlements...

...as in a theatre, whence they gape and point...

...at your industrious scenes and acts of death

Your royal presences be ruled by me

Do like the mutines of Jerusalem

Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend your sharpest deeds of malice on this town

By east and west let France and England mount...

...their battering cannon charged to the mouths...

...till their soul-fearing clamours have brawled down...

...the flinty ribs of this contemptuous city

I'd play incessantly upon these jades...

...even till unfenced desolation leave them as naked as the vulgar air

That done, dissever your united strengths, and part your mingled colours once again

Turn face to face and bloody point to point

Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth out of one side her happy minion...

...to whom in favour she shall give the day, and kiss him with a glorious victory

How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?

Smacks it not something of the policy?

Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it well

France, shall we knit our powers and lay this Angiers even to the ground...

...then after fight who shall be king of it?

An if thou hast the mettle of a king...

...being wronged as we are by this peevish town...

...turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, as we will ours, against these saucy walls

And when that we have dashed them to the ground...

...why then defy each other and pell-mell make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell

Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?

We from the west will send destruction into this city's bosom

I from the north

Our thunder from the south shall rain their drift of bullets on this town

O, prudent discipline! From north to south

Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth

I'll stir them to it. Come, away, away!

Hear me, great kings!

Vouchsafe awhile to stay...

...and I shall show you peace and fair-faced league

Win you this city without stroke or wound

Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds...

...that here come sacrifices for the field

Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings

Speak on with favour, we are bent to hear

That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanche, is niece to England

Look upon the years of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid

If lusty love should go in quest of beauty...

...where should he find it fairer than in Blanche?

If zealous love should go in search of virtue...

...where should he find it purer than in Blanche?

If love ambitious sought a match of birth...

...whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanche?

Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, is the young Dauphin every way complete

He is the half part of a blessed man, left to be finished by such as she

And she a fair divided excellence, whose fulness of perfection lies in him

O, two such silver currents...

...when they join, do glorify the banks that bound them in

And two such shores to two such streams made one...

...two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings...

...to these two princes, if you marry them

This union shall do more than battery can to these fast-closed gates

Son, list to this conjunction, make this match.

Give with our niece a dowry large enough

For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie thy now unsured assurance to the crown...

...that yon green boy shall have no sun...

...to ripe the bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit

I see a yielding in the looks of France. Mark, how they whisper

Urge them while their souls are capable of this ambition

Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath of soft petitions, pity and remorse...

...cool and congeal again to what it was

Speak England first...

...that hath been forward first to speak unto this city. What say you?

If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, can in this book of beauty read "I love"...

...her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen

For Anjou and fair Touraine...

...Maine, Poitiers, and all that we upon this side the sea...

Except this city now by us besieged, find liable to our crown and dignity...

...shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich...

...in titles, honours and promotions...

...as she in beauty, education, blood, holds hand with any princess of the world

What say'st thou, boy?

Look in the lady's face

I do, my lord, and in her eye I find a wonder

Or a wondrous miracle...

...the shadow of myself formed in her eye

Which being but the shadow of your son...

...becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow

I do protest I never loved myself till now infixed...

...I beheld myself drawn in the flattering table of her eye

My uncle's will in this respect is mine

If he see aught in you that makes him like...

...that any thing he sees, which moves his liking...

...I can with ease translate it to my will

Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it easily to my love

Further I will not flatter you, my lord, that all I see in you is worthy love...

...than this.

That nothing do I see in you...

...though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge...

...that I can find should merit any hate

What say these young ones? What say you my niece?

That she is bound in honour still to do what you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say

Speak then, prince Dauphin. Can you love this lady?

Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love, for I do love her most unfeignedly

Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, command thy son and daughter to join hands

It likes us well. Young princes, close your hands

And your lips too

For I am well assured that I did so when I was first assured

Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, let in that amity which you have made

For at Saint Mary's chapel presently the rites of marriage shall be solemnized

Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?

I know she is not, for this match made up her presence would have interrupted much

Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows

She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent

And, by my faith, this league that we have made...

...shall give her sadness very little cure

Brother of England, how may we content this widow lady?

In her right we came. Which we, God knows, have turned another way, to our own vantage

We will heal up all. For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne and Earl of Richmond...

...and this rich fair town we make him lord of

Call the Lady Constance

Some speedy messenger bid her repair to our solemnity

I trust we shall, if not fill up the measure of her will...

...yet in some measure satisfy her so that we shall stop her exclamation

Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, to this unlooked for, unprepared pomp

Mad world! Mad kings! Mad composition!

John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, hath willingly departed with a part

And France, whose armour conscience buckled on...

...whom zeal and charity brought to the field as God's own soldier...

...rounded in the ear with that same purpose-changer...

...that sly devil, that broker, that still breaks the pate of faith...

...that daily break-vow, he that wins of all, of kings...

...of beggars, old men, young men, maids...

...who, having no external thing to lose but the word "maid'...

...cheats the poor maid of that

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity

Commodity, the bias of the world

The world, who of itself is peised well, made to run even upon even ground...

...till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias, this sway of motion, this commodity...

...makes it take head from all indifferency, from all direction, purpose, course, intent

And this same bias, this commodity...

...this bawd, this broker, this all-changing word...

...clapped on the outward eye of fickle France, hath drawn him from his own determined aid...

...from a resolved and honourable war, to a most base and vile-concluded peace

And why rail I on this commodity?

But for because he hath not woo'd me yet

Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, when his fair angels should salute my palm

But for my hand, as unattempted yet, like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail and say there is no sin but to be rich

And being rich, my virtue then shall be to say there is no vice but beggary

Since kings break faith upon commodity...

...gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee

Gone to be married!

Gone to swear a peace!

False blood to false blood joined! Gone to be friends!

Shall Lewis have Blanche, and Blanche those provinces?

It is not so

Thou hast misspoke, misheard

Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again

Believe me, I do not believe thee, man. I have a king's oath to the contrary

Thou shalt be punished for thus frighting me

For I am sick and capable of fears...

...oppressed with wrongs and therefore full of fears

A widow, husbandless, subject to fears...

...a woman, naturally born to fears

And though thou now confess thou didst but jest...

...with my vexed spirits I cannot take a truce...

...but they will quake and tremble all this day

What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?

Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?

Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?

Then speak again. Not all thy former tale, but this one word, whether thy tale be true

As true as I believe you think them false...

...that give you cause to prove my saying true

O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow...

...teach thou this sorrow how to make me die, and let belief and life encounter so...

...as doth the fury of two desperate men which in the very meeting fall and die

Lewis marry Blanche! O, boy, then where art thou?

France friend with England, what becomes of me?

Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy sight. This news hath made thee a most ugly man

What other harm have I, good lady, done, but spoke the harm that is by others done?

Which harm within itself so heinous is as it makes harmful all that speak of it

I do beseech you, madam, be content

If thou, that bid'st me be content...

...wert grim, ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb...

...full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains...

...lame, foolish, crooked, or prodigious...

...patched with foul moles or eye-offending marks...

...I would not care, I then would be content...

...for then I should not love thee, no, nor thou become thy great birth nor deserve a crown

But thou art fair...

...and at thy birth, dear boy...

...nature and fortune joined to make thee great

Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast...

...and with the half-blown rose

But fortune, O...

...she is corrupted, changed and won from me

She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John...

...and with her golden hand hath plucked on France...

...to tread down fair respect of sovereignty, and make his majesty the bawd to theirs

France is a bawd to fortune and King John, that strumpet fortune, that usurping John!

Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone...

...and leave those woes alone which I alone am bound to under-bear

Pardon me, madam, I may not go without you to the kings

Thou mayst...

...thou shalt.

I will not go with thee

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, for grief is proud and makes his owner stoop

To me and to the state of my great grief let kings assemble

For my grief's so great that no supporter but the huge firm earth can hold it up

Here I and sorrows sit.

Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it

'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed day ever in France shall be kept festival

To solemnize this day the glorious sun stays in his course and plays the alchemist...

...turning with splendour of his precious eye the meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold

The yearly course that brings this day about shall never see it but a holy day

A holy day!

A wicked day, and not a holy day!

What hath this day deserved? What hath it done...

...that it in golden letters should be set among the high tides in the calendar?

Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, this day of shame, oppression, perjury

Or, if it must stand still...

...let wives with child pray their burthens may not fall this day...

...lest that their hopes prodigiously be quashed

But on this day let seamen fear no wreck, no bargains break that are not this day made

This day, all things begun come to ill end, yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change

By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause to curse the fair proceedings of this day

Have I not pawned to you my majesty?

You have beguiled me with a counterfeit resembling majesty...

...which, being touched and tried, proves valueless

You are forsworn, forsworn!

You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, but now in arms you strengthen it with yours

The grappling vigour and rough frown of war lies cold in amity and painted peace

And our oppression hath made up this league

Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings!

A widow cries. Be husband to me, heavens!

Let not the hours of this ungodly day wear out the day in peace

But, ere sunset, set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings

- Hear me, O, hear me! - Lady Constance, peace!

War, war! No peace! Peace is to me a war

O, Limoges! O, Austria!

Thou dost shame that bloody spoil, thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward

Thou little valiant, great in villainy, thou ever strong upon the stronger side

Thou fortune's champion that dost never fight...

...but when her humorous ladyship is by to teach thee safety

Thou art perjured too, and soothest up greatness

What a fool art thou, a ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear upon my party

Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?

Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength?

And dost thou now fall over to my foes?

Thou wear a lion's hide. Doff it for shame, and hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs

O, that a man should speak those words to me!

And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs

Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life

And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs

Enough!

We like not this. Thou dost forget thyself

Here comes the holy legate of the pope

- Buongiorno, monsignore - Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven

To thee, King John, my holy errand is

I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, and from Pope Innocent the legate here...

...do in his name religiously demand...

...why thou against the church, our holy mother...

...so wilfully dost spurn, and force perforce...

...keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop of Canterbury, from that holy see?

This, in our foresaid holy father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee

What earthy name to interrogatories can task the free breath of a sacred king?

Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name so slight, unworthy and ridiculous...

...to charge me to an answer, as the pope

Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England add thus much more

That no Italian priest shall tithe or toll in our dominions...

...but as we, under heaven, are supreme head...

...so under Him that great supremacy, where we do reign...

...we will alone uphold, without the assistance of a mortal hand

So tell the pope, all reverence set apart to him and his usurped authority

Scusi, scusi!

Brother of England, you blaspheme in this

Though you and all the kings of Christendom are led so grossly by this meddling priest...

...dreading the curse that money may buy out...

...and by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust...

...purchase corrupted pardon of a man, who in that sale sells pardon from himself...

...though you and all the rest so grossly led...

...this juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish...

...yet I alone, alone do me oppose against the pope and count his friends my foes

Then, by the lawful power that I have, thou shalt stand cursed...

...and excommunicate

And blessed shall he be that doth revolt from his allegiance to an heretic

And meritorious shall that hand be called, canonized, worshipped as a saint...

...that takes away by any secret course thy hateful life

O, lawful let it be that I have room with Rome to curse awhile!

Good father cardinal, cry thou amen to my keen curses

For without my wrong there is no tongue hath power to curse him right

- There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse - And for mine too

When law can do no right, let it be lawful that law bar no wrong

Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, for he that holds his kingdom holds the law

Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, how can the law forbid my tongue to curse?

Philip of France!

On peril of a curse, let go the hand of that arch-heretic...

...and raise the power of France upon his head, unless he do submit himself to Rome

Look'st thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand

Look to that, devil, lest that France repent, and by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul

- King Philip, listen to the cardinal - And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs

Well, ruffian...

- I must pocket up these wrongs, because... - Your breeches best may carry them

- Philip, what sayest thou to the cardinal? - What should he say, but as the cardinal?

Bethink you, father. For the difference is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome...

...or the light loss of England for a friend. Forego the easier

- The king is moved, and answers not to this - O, be removed from him, and answer well

Do so, King Philip, hang no more in doubt

Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout

Stop it!

I am perplexed, and know not what to say

What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, if thou stand excommunicate and cursed?

Good reverend father, make my person yours, and tell me how you would bestow yourself

This royal hand and mine are newly knit, and the conjunction of our inward souls...

...married in league, coupled, linked together with all religious strength of sacred vows

The latest breath that gave the sound of words...

...was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love...

...between our kingdoms and our royal selves

And even before this truce, yet new before...

...no longer than we well could wash our hands to clap this royal bargain up of peace...

...God knows, they were besmeared and over-stained with slaughter's pencil

Where revenge did paint the fearful difference of incensed kings

And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood, so newly joined in love, so strong in both...

...unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet?

Play fast and loose with faith? So jest with God?

Make such inconstant children of ourselves, as now again to snatch our palm from palm?

Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed of smiling peace to march a bloody host...

...and make a riot on the gentle brow of true sincerity?

O...

...holy sir, my reverend father, let it not be so

Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose some gentle order

And then we shall be blest to do your pleasure and continue friends

All form is formless, order orderless, save what is opposite to England's love

Therefore to arms! Be champion of our church

Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, a mother's curse, on her revolting son

France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, a chafed lion by the mortal paw...

...a fasting tiger safer by the tooth...

...than keep in peace that hand which thou doth hold

- I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith - So makest thou faith an enemy to faith

And like a civil war set oath to oath, thy tongue against thy tongue

Let thy vow first made to heaven, first be to heaven performed

That is, to be the champion of our church

What since thou sworest is sworn against thyself and may not be performed by thyself

For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss is not amiss when it is truly done

And being not done, where doing tends to ill, the truth is then most done not doing it

It is religion that doth make vows kept

But thou hast sworn against religion...

...by what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st...

...and makest an oath the surety for thy truth against an oath

The truth thou art unsure to swear, swears only not to be forsworn...

...else what a mockery should it be to swear! But thou doth swear only to be forsworn...

...and most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. Therefore...

...thy later vows against thy first are in thyself rebellion to thyself

And better conquest never canst thou make...

...than to arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against these giddy loose suggestions

Upon which better part our prayers come in, if thou vouchsafe them

But if not, know the peril of our curses light on thee so heavy...

...as thou shalt not shake them off...

...but in despair die under their black weight

- Rebellion, flat rebellion! - Will't not be?

- Will not a calfs-skin stop that mouth of thine? - Father, to arms!

Upon thy wedding-day?

Against the blood that thou hast married?

What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men?

Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp?

O, husband, hear me!

Ay, alack, how new is "husband" in my mouth!

Even for that name...

...which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce...

...upon my knees I beg, go not to arms against mine uncle

O, upon my knees, made hard with kneeling...

...I pray to thee, thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom forethought by heaven

Now shall I see thy love. What motive may be stronger with thee than the name of wife?

That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, his honour. O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour!

I muse your majesty doth seem so cold, when such profound respects do pull you on

I will denounce a curse upon his head

Thou shalt not need

England, I will fall from thee

- O, fair return of banished majesty! - O, foul revolt of French inconstancy!

France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour

Old time the clock-setter, that bald sexton time, is it as he will? Well then, France shall rue

The sun's o'ercast with blood.

Fair day, adieu!

Which is the side that I must go withal?

I am with both, each army hath a hand

And in their rage, I having hold of both, they swirl asunder and dismember me

Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win.

Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose

Father, I may not wish the fortune thine. Grandam, I will not wish thy fortunes thrive

Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose

Assured loss before the match be played

Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies

There where my fortune lives...

...there my life dies

Cousin, go draw our puissance together

France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath

A rage whose heat hath this condition

That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, the blood, and dearest-valued blood, of France

Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn to ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire

- Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy - No more than he that threats

To arms let's hie!

Hubert, keep this boy

Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot

Some airy devil hovers in the sky and pours down mischief

Austria's head lie there, while Philip breathes

Philip, make up.

My mother is assailed in our tent, and ta'en, I fear

Her highness is in safety, fear you not

But on, my liege, for very little pains will bring this labour to an happy end

Cousin, look not sad

Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will as dear be to thee as thy father was

O, this will make my mother die with grief

Cousin, away for England! Haste before, and, ere our coming...

...see thou shake the bags of hoarding abbots, imprisoned angels set at liberty

The fat ribs of peace must by the hungry now be fed upon

Use our commission in his utmost force

Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back, when gold and silver becks me to come on

I leave your highness

Grandam, I will pray...

...if ever I remember to be holy, for your fair safety. So, I kiss your hand

- Farewell, gentle cousin - Coz, farewell

Come hither, little kinsman. Hark, a word

Come hither, Hubert

O, my gentle Hubert, we owe thee much

Within this wall of flesh there is a soul counts thee her creditor...

...and with advantage means to pay thy love

And my good friend, thy voluntary oath lives in this bosom, dearly cherished

Give me thy hand

I had a thing to say, but I will fit it with some better time

By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed to say what good respect I have of thee

I am much bounden to your majesty

Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet...

...but thou shalt have

And creep time ne'er so slow, yet it shall come from me to do thee good

I had a thing to say...

...but let it go

Oh, if that thou couldst see me without eyes...

...hear me without thine ears, and make reply without a tongue...

...using conceit alone...

...without eyes, ears and harmful sound of words

Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts

But, ah, I will not.

Yet, I love thee well.

And, by my troth, I think thou lovest me well

So well, that what you bid me undertake, though that my death were adjunct to my act...

- ...by heaven, I would do it - Do not I know thou wouldst?

Good Hubert...

...Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye on yon young boy

I'll tell thee what, my friend, he is a very serpent in my way

And whereso'er this foot of mine doth tread, he lies before me

Dost thou understand me?

Thou art his keeper

And I'll keep him so, that he shall not offend your majesty

- Death - My lord?

- A grave - He shall not live

Enough

I could be merry now

Hubert, I love thee

Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee. Remember

Madam, fare you well. I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty

My blessing go with thee

For England, cousin, go

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you with all true duty

On toward Calais, ho!

So, by a roaring tempest on the flood...

...a whole armado of convicted sail is scattered and disjoined from fellowship

Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well

What can go well, when we have run so ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur taken prisoner? Many dear friends slain?

And bloody England into England gone, o'erbearing interruption, spite of France?

Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace!

Patience, good lady!

- Comfort, gentle Constance! - No, I defy all counsel, all redress...

...but that which ends all counsel, true redress, death, death, O, amiable lovely death

Thou odoriferous stench! Sound rottenness!

Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest and kiss thee as thy wife

Misery's love, O, come to me!

- O, fair affliction, peace! - No, no, I will not, having breath to cry

O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth. Then with a passion would I shake the world

Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow

Thou art not holy to belie me so. I am not mad

This hair I tear is mine...

...my name is Constance...

...I was Geoffrey's wife

Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost

I am not mad. I would to heaven I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself

O, if I could, what grief should I forget!

Preach some philosophy to make me mad, and thou shalt be canonized, cardinal

For being not mad but sensible of grief, my reasonable part produces reason...

...how I may be delivered of these woes, and teaches me to kill or hang myself

If I were mad, I should forget my son, or madly think a babe of clouts were he

I am not mad. Too well, too well I feel the different plague of each calamity

Bind up those tresses. O...

...what love I note in the fair multitude of those her hairs

Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen...

...even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends do glue themselves in sociable grief

Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, sticking together in calamity

To England, if you will

- Bind up your hairs - Yes, that I will

And wherefore will I do it?

I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud

"O, that these hands could so redeem my son, as they have given these hairs their liberty"

But now I envy at their liberty, and will again commit them to their bonds

Because my poor child is a prisoner

And, father cardinal, I have heard you say that we shall see and know our friends in heaven

If that be true, then I shall see my boy again

For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, to him that did but yesterday suspire...

...there was not such a gracious creature born

But now...

...will canker-sorrow eat my bud...

...and chase the native beauty from his cheek

And he will look as hollow as a ghost, as dim and meagre as an ague's fit

And so he'll die, and, rising so again, when I shall meet him in the court of heaven...

...I shall not know him. Therefore never, never must I behold my pretty Arthur more

- You hold too heinous a respect of grief - He talks to me that never had a son

You are as fond of grief as of your child

Grief...

...fills the room up...

...of my absent child

Lies in his bed...

...walks up and down with me...

...puts on his pretty looks...

...repeats his words...

...remembers me of all his gracious parts...

...stuffs out his vacant garments with his form

Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?

Fare you well.

Had you such a loss as I...

...I could give better comfort than you do

I will not keep this form upon my head, when there is such disorder in my wit

O, Lord!

My boy, my Arthur...

...my fair son!

My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!

My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure!

I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her

There is nothing in this world can make me joy

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale...

...vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man

And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet world's taste...

...that it yields nought but shame and bitterness

- What have you lost by losing of this day? - All days of glory, joy and happiness

No...

...no

When fortune means to men most good, she looks upon them with a threatening eye

'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost...

...in this which he accounts so clearly won

Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?

As heartily as he is glad he hath him

Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit

For even the breath of what I mean to speak shall blow each dust...

...each straw, each little rub...

...out of the path which shall directly lead thy foot to England's throne

And therefore mark

John hath seized Arthur...

...and it cannot be that, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins...

...the misplaced John should entertain an hour, a minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest

That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall

So be it, for it cannot be but so

But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall?

You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife, may then make all the claim that Arthur did

And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did

How green you are and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots, the times conspire with you

This act so evilly born shall cool the hearts of all his people and freeze up their zeal...

...that none so small advantage shall step forth to check his reign, but they will cherish it

No natural exhalation of the sky, no scope of nature, no distempered day...

...but they will pluck away its natural cause and call them meteors, prodigies, signs...

...abortives, portents, tongues of heaven, plainly denouncing vengeance upon John

May be he will not touch young Arthur's life, but hold himself safe in his prisonment

O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, if that young Arthur be not gone already...

...even at that news he dies

And then the hearts of all his people shall revolt from him

O, noble Dauphin, go with me to the king

'Tis wonderful what may be wrought out of their discontent...

...now that their souls are topful of offence

For England go. I will whet on the king

Strong reasons make strong actions. Let us go. If you say ay, the king will not say no

Heat me these irons hot, and look thou stand within the arras

When I strike my foot upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth...

...and bind the boy which you shall find with me fast to the chair

Be heedful. Hence, and watch

- I hope your warrant will bear out this deed - Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you

Look to it

Young lad...

...young lad, come forth. I have to say with you

Good morrow, Hubert

Good morrow, little prince

You are sad

Indeed, I have been merrier

Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I

So I were out of prison and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long

And so I would be here, but that I doubt my uncle practises more harm to me

He is afraid of me and I of him. Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey's son?

No, indeed, it's not.

And I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert

If I talk to him, with his innocent prate he will awake my mercy which lies dead

Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch

Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day

In sooth, I would you were a little sick, that I might sit all night and watch with you

I warrant I love you more than you do me

If I talk to him, with his innocent prate he will awake my mercy which lies dead

Read here, young Arthur

How now, foolish rheum, turning dispiteous torture out of door!

I must be brief, lest resolution drop out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears

Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

Young boy, I must

And will you?

And I will

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache...

...I knit my handercher about your brows, and with my hand at midnight held your head

And like the watchful minutes to the hour, still and anon cheered up the heavy time

Saying, "What lack you?" and "Where lies your grief?"

Or "What good love may I perform for you?"

Many a poor man's son would have lien still and ne'er have spoke a loving word to you

But you at your sick service had a prince

Nay, you may think my love was crafty love and call it cunning. Do, an if you will

If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, why then you must.

Will you put out mine eyes?

These eyes that never did nor never shall so much as frown on you

I have sworn to do it...

...and with hot irons must I burn them out

An if an angel should have come to me and told me Hubert should put out mine eyes...

...I would not have believed him, no tongue but Hubert's

Come forth

Do as I bid you do

O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out even with their fierce looks

- Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here - For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound

Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive them both away, and I will sit as quiet as a lamb

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word

Thrust but them both away, and I'll forgive you, whatever torment you do put me to

Go, stand within. Let me alone with him

I am best pleased to be from such a deed

Alas, I then have chid away my friend. She hath a stern look, but a gentle heart

Let her come back, that her compassion may give life to yours

Come, boy, prepare yourself

- Is there no remedy? - None, but to lose your eyes

O, heaven, that there were but a mote in yours...

...a grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, any annoyance in that precious sense

Then feeling what small things are boisterous there...

- ...your vile intent must needs seem horrible - Is this your promise?

Go to, hold your tongue

Hubert, the utterance of a pair of tongues must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes

Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert

Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, so I may keep mine eyes

O, spare mine eyes, though to no use but still to look on you

Lo, by my truth, the instrument is cold and would not harm me

I can heat it, boy

No, in good sooth, the fire is dead with grief, there is no malice in his burning coal

The breath of heaven has blown his spirit out and strewed repentent ashes on his head

But with my breath I can revive it, boy

An if you do...

...you will but make it blush and glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert

I will not touch thine eye for all the treasure thine uncle owes

O, now you look like Hubert! All this while you were disguised

Peace, no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead

I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure...

...that Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, will not offend thee

- O, heaven! I thank you, Hubert - Silence, no more. Go closely in with me

Much danger do I undergo for thee

Here once again we sit...

...once again crowned...

...and looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes

This "once again", but that your highness pleased, was once superfluous

You were crowned before

And that high royalty was ne'er plucked off, the faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt

Fresh expectation troubled not the land for any longed-for change or better state

Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp, to guard a title that was rich before...

...to gild refined gold, to paint the lily, to throw a perfume on the violet...

...to smooth the ice, or add another hue unto the rainbow...

...or with taper-light...

...to seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, is wasteful and ridiculous excess...

To this effect, before you were new crowned, we breathed our counsel

But it pleased your highness to overbear it, and we are all well pleased

Since all and every part of what we would doth make a stand at what your highness will

Some reasons for this double coronation I have possessed you with, and think them strong

And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with

Meantime but ask what you would have reformed that is not well...

...and well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests

Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, to sound the purposes of all their hearts...

...both for myself and them, but, chief of all, your safety...

...for the which myself and them bend their best studies...

...heartily request the enfranchisement of Arthur

Whose restraint doth move the murmuring lips...

...of discontent to break into this dangerous argument

If what in rest you have in right you hold, why then, your fears...

...which, as they say, attend the steps of wrong...

...should move you to mew up your tender kinsman?

And to choke his days with barbarous ignorance...

...and deny his youth the rich advantage of good exercise?

That the time's enemies may not have this to grace occasions...

...let it be our suit that you have bid us ask his liberty

Which for our goods we do no further ask than whereupon our weal, on you depending...

...counts it your weal he have his liberty

Let it be so.

I do commit his youth to your direction

Hubert, what news with you?

This is the man should do the bloody deed. He showed his warrant to a friend of mine

The image of a wicked heinous fault lives in his eye

That close aspect of his does show the mood of a much troubled breast

And I do fearfully believe 'tis done, what we so feared he had a charge to do

The colour of the king doth come and go between his purpose and his conscience

His passion is so ripe, it needs must break

And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence the foul corruption of a sweet child's death

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand

Good lords...

...although my will to give is living...

...the suit which you demand is gone and dead

He tells us Arthur is deceased to-night

Indeed, we feared his sickness was past cure

Indeed, we heard how near his death he was before the child himself felt he was sick

- This must be answered either here or hence - Why do you bend such solemn brows on me?

Think you I bear the shears of destiny?

Have I commandment on the pulse of life?

It is apparent foul play, and 'tis shame that greatness should so grossly offer it

- So thrive it in your game! And so, farewell - Stay yet, Lord Salisbury. I'll go with thee...

...and find the inheritance of this poor child, his little kingdom of a forced grave

That blood which owed the breadth of all this isle...

...three foot of it doth hold

Bad world the while!

This must not be thus borne

This will break out to all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt

They burn in indignation

I repent

There is no sure foundation set on blood, no certain life achieved by others' death

A fearful eye thou hast. Where is that blood that I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?

So foul a sky clears not without a storm. Pour down thy weather

- How goes all in France? - From France to England

Never such a power for any foreign preparation was levied in the body of a land

The copy of your speed is learned by them

For when you should be told they do prepare, the tidings come...

...that they are all arrived

O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept?

Where is my mother's care, that such an army could be drawn in France, and she not hear of it?

My liege, her ear is stopped with dust.

The first of April died your noble mother

And, as I hear, my lord, the Lady Constance in a frenzy died three days before

But this from rumour's tongue I idly heard. If true or false I know not

Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion

What?

Mother dead?

How wildly then walks my estate in France.

Under whose conduct came those powers of France

that thou for truth givest out are landed here?

- Under the Dauphin - Thou hast made me giddy with these ill tidings

Now, what says the world to your proceedings?

Do not seek to stuff my head with more ill news, for it is full

But if you be afeard to hear the worst, then let the worst unheard fall on your head

The French are here. Men's mouths are full of it

And as I travelled hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied

Possessed with rumours, full of idle dreams, not knowing what they fear, but full of fear

Besides, I met Lord Pembroke and Lord Salisbury, with eyes as red as new-enkindled fire...

...and others more, going to seek the grave of Arthur...

...whom they say is killed to-night on your suggestion

Gentle kinsman, go, and thrust thyself into their companies

I have a way to win their loves again. Bring them before me

- I will seek them out - Nay, but make haste, the better foot before

O, let me have no subject enemies...

...when adverse foreigners affright my towns with dreadful pomp of stout invasion

Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, and fly like thought from them to me again

The spirit of the time shall teach me speed

My mother dead!

My lord, my lord, they say five moons were seen to-night

Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about the other four in wondrous motion

Five moons!

Old men and beldams in the streets do prophesy upon it dangerously

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths

And when they talk of him, they shake their heads...

...and whisper one another in the ears with wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes

Why seekest thou to possess me with these fears?

Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?

Thy hand hath murdered him

I had a mighty cause to wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him

No cause, my lord! Why, did you not provoke me?

It is the curse of kings to be attended by slaves...

...that take their humours for a warrant to break within the bloody house of life

And on the winking of authority...

...to understand a law, to know the meaning of dangerous majesty...

...when perchance it frowns more upon humour than advised respect

Here is your hand and seal for what I did

O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth is to be made...

...then shall this hand and seal witness against us to damnation

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds makes deeds ill done

Hadst not thou been by, a fellow by the hand of nature marked...

...quoted and signed to do a deed of shame, this murder had not come into my mind

But taking note of thy abhorred aspect, finding thee fit for bloody villainy...

...apt, liable to be employed in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death

And thou, to be endeared to a king, made it no conscience to destroy a prince

My lord...

Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause when I spake darkly what I purposed...

...or turned an eye of doubt upon my face, as bid me tell my tale in express words...

...deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off...

...and those thy fears might have wrought fears in me

But thou didst understand me by my signs and didst in signs again parley with sin

Yea, without stop...

...didst let thy heart consent, and consequently thy rude hand to act the deed...

...which both our tongues held vile to name.

Out of my sight, and never see me more!

My nobles leave me, and my state is braved, even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers

Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, this kingdom, this confine of blood and breath...

...hostility and civil tumult reigns between my conscience and my cousin's death

Arm you against your other enemies, I'll make a peace between your soul and you

Young Arthur is alive.

This hand of mine is yet a maiden and an innocent hand...

...not painted with the crimson spots of blood

Within this bosom never entered yet the dreadful motion of a murderous thought

And you have slandered nature in my form...

...which, howsoever rude exteriorly...

...is yet the cover of a fairer mind than to be butcher of an innocent child

Doth Arthur live?

O, haste thee to the peers...

...throw this report on their incensed rage...

...and make them tame to their obedience

Forgive the comment that my passion made upon thy feature

For my rage was blind...

...and foul imaginary eyes of blood presented thee more hideous than thou art

O, answer not, but to my closet bring the angry lords with all expedient haste

I conjure thee but slowly. Run more fast!

I will meet Lewis at Saint Edmundsbury

It is our safety, and we must embrace this gentle offer of the perilous time

- Who sent this letter from the cardinal? - Lord Chatillon, Ambassador of France

Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love is much more general than these lines import

To-morrow morning let us meet him, then

Once more to-day well met, distempered lords!

The king by me requests your presence straight

The king hath dispossessed himself of us

We will not line his thin bestained cloak with our pure honours...

...nor attend the foot that leaves the print of blood where'er it walks

Return and tell him so. We know the worst

Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best

Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now

But there is little reason in your grief. Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now

- Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege - 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man else

What is he lies here?

O, death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!

The earth had not a hole to hide this deed

Murder, as hating what himself hath done, doth lay it open to urge on revenge

This is the bloodiest shame, the wildest savagery, the vilest stroke...

...that ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage presented to the tears of soft remorse

All murders past do stand excused in this. And this, so sole and so unmatchable...

...shall give a holiness, a purity, to the yet unbegotten sin of times...

...and prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, exampled by this heinous spectacle

It is a damned and a bloody work

The graceless action of a heavy hand, if that it be the work of any hand

If that it be the work of any hand!

We had a kind of light what would ensue. It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand

The practice and the purpose of the king, from whose obedience I forbid my soul

Lords, I am hot with haste...

...in seeking you. Arthur doth live. The king hath sent for you

O, he is bold and blushes not at death. Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!

- I am no villain - Must I rob the law?

- Your blade is bright, sir. Put it up again - Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin

Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say. By heaven, I think my blade's as sharp as yours

I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, nor tempt the danger of my true defence

Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget your worth, your greatness and nobility

Out, dunghill! Darest thou brave a nobleman?

Not for my life. But yet I dare defend my innocent life against an emperor

- Thou art a murderer - Do not prove me so

Yet am I none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false...

...not truly speaks. Who speaks not truly, lies

- Cut him to pieces - Keep the peace, I say

- Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge - Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury

If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame...

...I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy blade betime...

...or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, that you shall think the devil is come from hell

What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain and a murderer?

- Lord Pembroke, I am none - Who killed this prince?

'Tis not an hour since I left him well

I honoured him...

...I loved him, and will weep my date of life out for his sweet life's loss

Trust not the cunning waters of his eyes, for villainy is not without such rheum

And he, long traded in it, makes it seem like rivers of remorse and innocency

Away with me...

...all you whose souls abhor the uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house

For I am stifled with this smell of sin

Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there. There tell the king he may inquire us out

Here's a good world!

Knew you of this fair work?

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach of mercy...

...if thou didst this deed of death, art thou damned, Hubert

- Do but hear me, sir - Ha! I'll tell thee what

Thou art more deep damned than Prince Lucifer

There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell as thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child

Upon my soul...

If thou didst but consent to this most cruel act, do but despair

And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread that ever spider twisted from her womb...

...will serve to strangle thee, a rush will be a beam to hang thee on

Or wouldst thou drown thyself, put but a little water in a spoon...

...and it shall be as all the ocean, enough to stifle such a villain up

I do suspect thee very grievously

If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath...

...which was embounded in this beauteous clay, then let hell want pains enough to torture me

I left him well

Go...

...bear him in thine arms

I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way among the thorns and dangers of this world

How easy dost thou take all England up!

From forth this morsel of dead royalty...

...the life, the right and truth of all this realm is fled to heaven

And England now is left to tug and scamble and to part by the teeth...

...the unowed interest of proud-swelling state

Now for the bare-picked bone of majesty...

...doth dogged war bristle his angry crest and snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace

Now powers from home and discontents at home meet in one line, and vast confusion waits...

...as doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast, the imminent decay of wrested pomp

Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can hold out this tempest

Bear away that child and follow me with speed. I'll to the king

A thousand businesses are brief in hand...

...and heaven itself doth frown upon the land

Thus have I yielded up into your hand the circle of my glory

Take again from this my hand...

...as holding of the pope, your sovereign greatness and authority

Now keep your holy word. Go meet the French...

...and from his holiness use all your power to stop their marches 'fore we are inflamed

Our discontented counties do revolt, our people quarrel with obedience...

...swearing allegiance and the love of soul to stranger blood, to foreign royalty

This inundation of mistempered humour rests by you only to be qualified

Then pause not. For the present time's so sick...

...that present medicine must be ministered, or overthrow incurable ensues

It was my breath that blew this tempest up, upon your stubborn usage of the pope

But since you are a gentle convertite...

...my tongue shall hush again this storm of war and make fair weather in your blustering land

On this Ascension Day, remember well...

...that upon your oath of service to the pope, go I to make the French lay down their arms

All Kent hath yielded, nothing there holds out but Dover castle

London hath received, like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers

Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone to offer service to your enemy

And wild amazement hurries up and down the little number of your doubtful friends

Would not my lords return to me again, after they heard young Arthur was alive?

They found him dead...

...and cast into the streets

An empty casket, where the jewel of life...

...by some damned hand was robbed and ta'en away

- That villain Hubert told me he did live - So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew

But wherefore do you droop?

Why look you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought

Let not the world see fear and sad distrust govern the motion of a kingly eye

Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire

Threaten the threatener and outface the brow of bragging horror

So shall inferior eyes, that borrow their behaviours from the great...

...grow great by your example and put on the dauntless spirit of resolution

Away, and glister like the god of war, when he intendeth to become the field

Show boldness and aspiring confidence

What, shall they seek the lion in his den...

...and fright him there? And make him tremble there?

O, let it not be said

Forage, and run to meet displeasure farther from the doors...

...and grapple with him ere he comes so nigh

The legate of the pope hath been with me, and I have made a happy peace with him

And he hath promised to dismiss the powers led by the Dauphin

O, inglorious league!

Shall we, upon the footing of our land...

...send fair-play orders and make compromise...

...insinuation, parley and base truce to arms invasive?

Shall a beardless boy, a cockered silken wanton...

...brave our fields, and flesh his spirit in a warlike soil...

...mocking the air with colours idly spread, and find no check?

Let us, my liege, to arms.

Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace

Or if he do, let it at least be said they saw we had a purpose of defence

Have thou the ordering of this present time

Away, then, with good courage

Lord Chatillon, let this be copied out, and keep it safe for our remembrance...

...and return the precedent to these lords again

That, having our fair order written down, both they and we, perusing o'er these notes...

...may know wherefore we took the sacrament and keep our faiths firm and inviolable

Upon our sides it never shall be broken

And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear a voluntary zeal and an unurged faith to your proceedings...

...yet believe me, prince...

...I am not glad that such a sore of time should seek a plaster by contemned revolt...

...and heal the inveterate canker of one wound by making many

It grieves my soul that I must draw this metal from my side to be a widow-maker

But such is the infection of the time...

...that we, the sons and children of this isle, were born to see so sad an hour as this

Wherein we step after a stranger march upon her gentle bosom...

...and fill up her enemies' ranks

A noble temper dost thou show in this

And great affections wrestling in thy bosom doth make an earthquake of nobility

O, what a noble combat hast thou fought between compulsion and a brave respect!

Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, and with a great heart heave away the storm

Commend these waters to those baby eyes that never saw the giant world enraged

Come, come, for thou shalt thrust thy hand...

...as deep into the purse of rich prosperity as Lewis himself

So, nobles, shall you all, that knit your sinews to the strength of mine

And even there, methinks, an angel spake

Look, where the holy legate comes apace, to give us warrant from the hand of heaven

And on our actions set the name of right with holy breath

Hail, noble prince of France!

The next is this, King John hath reconciled himself to Rome

Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up and tame that savage spirit of wild war

That like a lion fostered up at hand...

...it may lie gently at the foot of peace, and be no further harmful than in show

Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back

I am too high-born to be propertied, to be a secondary at control...

...and 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 to know the face of right, acquainted me with interest 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 borne, what men provided...

...what munition sent, to underprop this action?

Is't not I that undergo this charge?

Who else but I, and such as to my claim are liable...

...sweat in this business and maintain this war?

Have I not heard these islanders shout out "Vive le roi!" as I have banked their towns?

Have I not here the best cards for the game, to win this easy match played for a crown?

And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?

No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said

You look but on the outside of this work

Outside or inside, I will not return till my attempt so much be glorified...

...as to my ample hope was promised before I drew this gallant head of war...

...and culled these fiery spirits from the world, to outlook conquest and to win renown...

...even in the jaws of danger and of death

According to the fair play of the world, let me have audience. I am sent to speak

My holy lord of Milan, from the king I come, to learn how you have dealt for him

And, as you answer, I do know the scope and warrant limited unto my tongue

The noble Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, he will not temporize with my entreaties

He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms

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 reason too he should

This apish and unmannerly approach, this harnessed masque and unadvised revel...

...this unhaired sauciness and boyish troops, the king doth smile at...

...and is well prepared to whip this dwarfish war...

...these pigmy 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 hatch

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 aery towers, 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 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

There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace. We grant thou canst outscold us

Fare thee well. We hold our time too precious to be spent with such a brabbler

- Give me leave to speak - No, I will speak

We will attend to neither

Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war plead for our interest and our being here

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 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...

...whom he hath used for sport rather 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

Strike up our drums, to find this danger out

And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt

My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, desires your majesty to leave the field...

- ...and send him word by me which way you go - Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there

I did not think the king so stored with friends

Up once again, put spirit in the French. If they miscarry, we miscarry too

That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, in spite of spite, alone upholds the day

Lead me to the revolts of England here

- Chatillon - Wounded to death

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 Lewis be lord of this loud day...

...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 dear amity and everlasting love

- May this be possible? - May this be true?

Have I not hideous death within my view, retaining but a quantity of life...

...which bleeds away, even as a form of wax...

...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?

How fares your majesty?

This fever, that hath troubled me so long, lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick

I say again, if Lewis do win the day...

...but even this night, your breathing shall expire...

...paying the fine of rated treachery even with a treacherous fine of all your lives

- 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

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

Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up

Set on toward Swinstead. To my litter straight. Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint

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

- Who's there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly - A friend

- What art thou? - Of the part of England

- Hubert, I think? - Thou hast a perfect thought

I will upon all hazards well believe thou art my friend...

...that knowest my tongue so well

Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets

Unkind remembrance! Thou and eyeless night have done me shame.

Brave soldier, pardon me...

...that any accent breaking from thy tongue should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear

Why, here walk I in the black brow of night, to find you out

- Brief, then, and what's the news? - The king, I fear, is poisoned

I left him almost speechless, and broke out...

...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

- Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? - Know you not?

The lords are all come back

The king hath pardoned them, and they are all about his majesty

Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, and tempt us not to bear above our power!

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

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

Let him be brought into the orchard here

Doth he still rage?

He is more patient than you left him. Even now he sung

O, vanity of sickness!

Fierce extremes in their continuance will not feel themselves

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, confound themselves

'Tis strange that death should sing

How fares your majesty?

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 to make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips and comfort me with cold

Within me is a hell

And there the poison is as a fiend confined to tyrannize on unreprievable condemned blood

O, how I would my soul hath elbow-room

It would not out at windows nor at doors

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

O, cousin, thou art come to set mine eye.

The tackle of my heart is cracked and burned

And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail...

...are turned to one thread...

...one little hair

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

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

You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear

My liege! My lord! But now a king, now thus

What surety of the world...

...what hope, what stay...

...when this was now a king, and now is clay?

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, you stars that move in your right spheres, 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

The Dauphin rages at our very heels

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 come three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them

Nought shall make us rue, if England to itself do rest but true

O, think how the sun wakes the seeds

O, was it for this the clay grew tall?