There is fo hot a Summer in my bofom,
That all my bowels crumble up to duft:
I am a fcribbled form drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment, and against this fire
Do I fhrink up.

Henry. How fares your Majefty?

K.John. Poifon'd, ill Fare! dead, forsook, cast off; (31)
And none of you will bid the Winter come
To thruft his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my Kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burn'd bofom: nor intreat the North
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I ask not much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And fo ungrateful, you deny me that.

Henry. Oh, that there were fome virtue in my tears, That might relieve you!

K. John. The falt of them is hot.

Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize

On unreprievable, condemned blood.

Enter Faulconbridge.

Faulc. Oh, I am fcalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to fee your Majesty.

K. John. Oh, coufin, thou art come to fet mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crackt and burnt; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should fail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair: My heart hath one poor ftring to stay it by,

(31) Poifon'd, ill Fate !] This is Mr. Pope's Reading, on no Authority that I can find. I have replac'd Fare, with the old Copies; and confidering how much our Author lov'd and has practifed the Jingle and Play on Words, fimilar in Sound; there is no Queftion but he intended it here.

So, in his Second Part of Henr. VI.

Sheriff, farewel; and better than I fare:

And, in the Third Part of Henr. VI.

How now, fair Lords? What Fare? What News abroad?

In Fate both takes away the Antithefis, and makes a very flat infipid Exclamation.

Whch

Which holds but till thy news be uttered;
And then all this thou feeft, is but a Clod,
And module of confounded Royalty.

Faule. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where, heav'n he knows, how we fhall answer him. For, in a night, the best part of my Power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the Wafhes, all unwarily, Devoured by the unexpected flood.

[The King dies.

Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear:
My Liege! my lord! - but now a King-now thus.
Henry. Ev'n fo must I run on, and ev'n so stop.
What furety of the world, what hope, what stay,
When this was now a King, and now is Clay?
Faulc. Art thou gone fo? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge:

And then my foul fhall wait on thee to heav'n,
As it on earth hath been thy fervant ftill.

Now, now, you Stars, that move in your bright spheres,
Where be your pow'rs? fhew now your mended faiths,
And inftantly return with me again,

To push destruction and perpetual fhame

Out of the weak door of our fainting Land:
Strait let us feek, or ftrait we fhall be fought;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It feems, you know not then so much as we: The Cardinal Pandulph is within at Reft,

Who half an hour fince came from the Dauphin ;
And brings from him fuch offers of our peace,
As we with honour and respect may take,
With purpose presently to leave this war.
Faulc. He will the rather do it, when he fees
Our felves well finewed to our defence.

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
For many Carriages he hath dispatch'd
To the fea-fide, and put his Cause and Quarrel
To the difpofing of the Cardinal:

With whom your felf, my self, and other lords,
If you think meet, this afternoon will post
To confummate this business happily.

Faulc,

Faulc. Let it be fo; and you, my noble Prince,
With other Princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall wait upon your father's Funeral.

Henry. At Worcester muft his body be interr'd,
For fo he will'd it.

Faulc. Thither fhall it then.

And happily may your sweet self

put on

The lineal State, and Glory of the Land!
To whom, with all fubmiffion on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful fervices,

And true fubjection everlastingly.

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

Henry. I have a kind foul, that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears.

Faulc. Oh, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been before-hand with our griefs. This England never did, nor never shall, Lye at the proud foot of a Conqueror, But when it firft did help to wound it felf. Now these her Princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them!- Nought fhall make us rue, If England to it felf do reft but true. [Exeunt omnes.

THE

THE

LIFE and DE ATH

O F

RICHARD

THE

SECOND.

KING Richard the Second.

Duke of York,

John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, Uncles to the King.
Bolingbroke, Son to John of Gaunt, afterwards King
Henry the Fourth.

Aumerle, Son to the Duke of York.
Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk.

Earl of Salisbury.

Earl of Barkley.

Servants to King Richard.

Bufhy,2

Bagot,

Green,

Heralds, two Gardiners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.

SCENE, difperfedly, in feveral Parts of England.

THE