SCENE VIII.-The same. Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting: then THERSITES.

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are at it: Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo! The bull has the game. [Exeunt PARIS and MEN. Enter MARGARELON.

Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.
Ther. What art thou?

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.

Ther. I am a bastard too; I love bastards: Farewell, bastard.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IX.-Another part of the Field.

Enter HECTOR.

Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without, Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. Now is my day's work done; I'll take good breath!

Rest, sword! thou hast thy fill of blood and death!

[Puts off his Helmet, and hangs his Shield behind him.

Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.

Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set;

How ugly night comes breathing at his heels:
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun,
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.
Hect. I am unarm'd; forego this vantage,
Greek.

chil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the man I seek. [HECT. falls. So, Ilion, fall thou next!; now, Troy, sink down!

Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. On, Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, "Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain."

[A Retreat sounded. Hark! a retreat upon our Grecian part. Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

Achil. The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth,

And, stickler-like, the armies separate. My half-supp'd sword, that frankly + would have fed,

Dio. The bruit is-Hector's slain, and by Achilles.

Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless tet it be ; Great Hector was as good a man as he.

Agam, March patiently along:-Let one be sent

To pray Achilles see us at our tent.-
If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are
ended.
[Exeunt, marching.

SCENE XI.-Another part of the Field.
Enter ENEAS and Trojans.

Ene. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the field: [night. Never go home; here starve we out the Enter TROILUS.

Tro. Hector is slain.

All.

tail,

Hector?-The gods forbid ! Tro. He's dead; and at the murderer's horse's [field.In beastly sort, dragg'd through the shameful Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed!

Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile at Troy!

I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy, And linger not our sure destructions on!

Ane. My lord, you do discomfort all the host. Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so: I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death; But dare all imminence that gods and men Address their dangers in. Hector is gone! Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? Let him that will a screech-owl aye be call'd, Go in to Troy, and say there-Hector's dead: There is a word will Priam turn to stone; Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives, Cold statues of the youth; and, in a word, Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away: Hector is dead; there is no more to say. Stay yet;-You vile abominable tents, Thus proudly pight? upon our Phyrgian plains, Let Titan rise as early as he dare, I'll through and through you ;-And thou, greatsiz'd coward!

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates; I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.

Strike a free march to Troy!-with comfort go: Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe. [Exeunt ENEAS and Trojans.

side, PANDARUS

Pan But hear you, hear you!

Tro. Hence, broker lackey! ignomy and

shame

THE plays of Shakespeare which he has founded upon English history, have seized so strongly on the national mind, that they are received not as dramas only, but as history: but our poet did not invariably follow historic truth so closely as he might have done, nor are events always related with sufficient regard to their order in point of time. He seized the most dramatic incidents of a reign, and crowded them rapidly one upon another, drawing them within a narrow circle, and not unfrequently passed over some of the most important events, in reference to the political and social state of the people. In King John, no allusion is made to what every Englishman must regard as the great event of that reign-the wringing from the reluctant tyrant, at Runnymede, the great basis of our national liberties-the MAGNA CHARTA.

John ascended the throne in 1199, in his thirty-second year; Shakespeare's play commences shortly after, and embraces the whole of his reign, a period of seventeen years. The first two acts of the play carry us only through the first year of John's reign, up to 1200, when he gave his niece Blanch, of Castile, in marriage to Lewis, the eldest son of Philip of France. John's divorce of his first wife, and his marriage with Isabella, the daughter of the Count of Angoulême, together with the consequent revolts of many of his barons, are passed over in silence. The death of Arthur, the young Duke of Britanny, which occurred in 1203, is not related in the manner in which it is now supposed it took place; although, as the event is shrouded in mystery, it is possible Shakespeare's account may be the correct one.

A lapse of ten years occurs between the fourth and fifth acts of Shakespeare's tragedy; during which the famous dispute between John and the astute and subtle pontiff, Innocent III., took place respecting the right of appointing the Archbishop of Canterbury. After the pope had fulminated the sentences of excommunication and deposition against John, and had roused France to execute the latter decree, the feeble and vacillating monarch humbly submitted himself, and took an oath of fealty to Rome. He had previously, with flashing eyes, and lips livid with anger, thundered out to his trembling prelates these haughty words :-"By God's teeth, if you, or any of your body, dare to lay my states under interdict, I will send you and all your clergy to Rome, and confiscate your property. As for the Roman shavelings, if I find any in my dominions, I will tear out their eyes and cut off their noses, and so send them to the pope, that the nations may witness their infamy." Had not John's weakness and timidity been equal to his ferocity, he might have been the scourge of Rome and the terror of Europe.

On the memorable 15th of June, 1215, John

signed the Great Charter at Runnymede, having not long before said :-" And why do they not demand my crown also? By God's teeth, I will not grant them liberties which will make me a slave !" After signing this memorable deed, John was plunged in despair, and is said to have acted with the furious imbecility of a madman; he blasphemed, raved, gnashed his teeth, and gnawed sticks and straws, in the intensity of his impotent passion. He soon repented of the liberty which he had granted to his barons and his people, and made war upon them to regain it. He surrounded himself with a host of savage foreign mercenaries, the chiefs of whom were called "Manleon, the bloody;" "Falco, without bowels;" "Walter Buch, the murderer;" "Sottim, the merciless:" and "Godeschall, the iron-hearted." These ruffians gave every village they passed to the flames, and put John's English subjects to horrible tortures, to compel them to confess where they had concealed their wealth.

But the hand of heaven arrested the progress of this incarnate fiend; John died in the October of the year following that in which he had placed his hand to the charter. He breathed his last at the castle of Newark, on the Trent, and not at Swinsted (or Swineshead) Abbey. It is possible that he might have been poisoned; but that story is not told by any writer of the time, and is a tradition on which we cannot place much reliance. The most probable account is, that he ate gluttonously of some peaches, and immediately after drank a quantity of new cider. This, in his distempered state, was cause enough to produce the fever which destroyed him."

In considering this play without any reference to history, we must speak of it very highly: though destitute of the poetic halo which beautifies many of the bard's more imaginative dramas, it is still invested with a warlike and solemn grandeur. We feel that the theme is kingdoms, and the chief actors princes. The air seems to resound with the brazen elang of trumpets and the clash of arms; the sunbeams gild the banners of rival armies, and dance upon the plumed crests of thousands of brave knights. The interest never flags for a moment: the play has several strongly marked characters, most effectively grouped together. The dark portrait of John is finely contrasted with the bold chivalrous bastard, Faulconbridge, "the very spirit of Plantagenet," who appears to be entirely a creation of the poet. In this character, the poet has shown that great talents and energy, employed in a bad cause, seldom enjoy a lengthened triumph; but, like an ill-manned vessel on an unexplored sea, drift about in uncertainty and peril. Faulconbridge becomes a serious man, and accumulated disasters wring from his iron nature a prayer to heaven not to tempt him above his power.

K. John. A good blunt fellow :-Why, being younger born,

Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance?

Bast. I know not why, except to get the land. But once he slander'd me with bastardy: But whe'r 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, 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. K. John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here!

Eli. 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?

K. John. Mine eye hath well examined his parts, And finds them perfect Richard.-Sirrah, speak, What doth move you to claim your brother's land? father;

Bast. Because he hath a half-face, like my With that half-face would he have all my land: A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year! Rob. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd,

Your brother did employ my father much;—
Bast. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land;
Your tale must be, how he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once despatch'd 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 sojourn'd at my father's;
Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak :
But truth is truth; large lengths of seas and
Between my father and my mother lay, [shores
(As I have heard my father speak himself,)
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
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 land, as was my father's will.

K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him :
And, if she did play false, the fault was her's;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his?
In sooth, good friend, your father might have
kept him;

My arms such eel-skins stuff'd; my face so thin,
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, [goes!
Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
'Would I might never stir from off this place,
I'd give it every foot to have this face;
I would not be Sir Nob in any case. [fortune,
Eli. I like thee well; Wilt thou forsake thy
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France.
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my
chance:

Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year;
Yet sell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear.-
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. [way. Bast. Our country manners give our betters K. John. What is thy name?

Bast. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun; Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. K. John. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bear'st:

Kneel thou down, Philip, but arise more great; Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me

your hand;

My father gave me honour, your's gave land :-
Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet!

I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so.
Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth:
What though?
[thy desire

K. John. Go, Faulconbridge; now hast thou A landless knight makes thee a landed 'squire.-Come, madam, and come, Richard; we must speed

For France, for France; for it is more than need. Bast. Brother, adieu; Good fortune come to For thou wast got i' the way of honesty. [thee!

[Exeunt all but the Bastard. A foot of honour better than I was; But many a foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady :"Good den, Sir Richard,-God-a-mercy, fel

low;"

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. Now your traveller,-
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess;
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries: -"My dear sir,”
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin.)
"I shall beseech you"-That is question now;
And then comes answer like an ABC-book :-

Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather,-be a Faul-
conbridge,

And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land;
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion,
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, Sir Robert his, like him;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods,
+ Good evening.

Trace, outline. + My travelled fop.

At your employment; at your service, sir:"-
"No, sir," says question, "I, sweet sir, at yours:"
And so, ere answer knows what question would,
(Saving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps, and Apennines,
The Pyrenean, and the river Po,)

It draws towards supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself:
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for 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.-
But who comes in such haste, in riding robes?
What woman-post is this? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
2P 2

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

Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and JAMES GURNEY.
O me! it is my mother:-How now, good lady?
What brings you here to court so hastily?
Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother?
where is he,

That holds in chase mine honour up and down? Bast. 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? [boy,
Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend
Sir Robert's son: Why scorn'st thou at Sir
Robert?

He is Sir Robert's son; and so art thou. [while?
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.
Bast.
Philip?-sparrow-James,
There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.
[Exit GUR.
Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son. [too,
Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother
That for thine own gain should'st defend mine
honour?

What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

Bast. Knight, knight, good mother,-Basilisco-like: +

What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son ;
I have disclaim'd 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?
Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon-
bridge?

Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

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.
Lew. A noble boy! Who would not do thee
right?

Aust. 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-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg'd 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.
Const. 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.

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

In such a just and charitable war.

K. Phi. 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,

By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd

To make room for him in my husband's bed;-
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge!
Thou art the issue of my great offence,
Which was so strongly urg'd, past my defence.
Bast. Madam, I would not wish a better father.
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,
Subjécted tribute to commanding love,-
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
[Exeunt.

Act Second.

SCENE I.-France. Before the walls of Angiers. Enter, on one side, the ARCHDUKE OF AUSTRIA, and Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of France, and Forces; LEWIS, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and Attendants.

Lew. BEFORE Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
Richard, that robb'd 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.

Idle reports.

+ A character in an old drama called Soliman and Perseda. + Importunity.

But we will make it subject to this boy.

Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy, Lest unadvis'd 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.

Enter CHATILLON.

K. Phi. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.-
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee: Chatillon, speak.
Chat. 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,
To land his legions all as soon as I:
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time
His marches are expedient || to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Até, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd:
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 a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,

? Best stations to overawe the town.

|| Immediate, expeditious.

The goddess of Revenge.