Ev'n in the jaws of danger, and of death. [Trumpet founds. What lufty trumpet thus doth fummon us? SCENE IV. Enter Faulconbridge. Faule. According to the fair Play of the world, Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-oppofite, Faule. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The Youth fays well. Now hear our English King; For thus his Royalty doth speak in me: He is prepar'd; and reason too, he should. This apifh and unmannerly approach, This harness'd mask, and unadvised revel, This unhair'd fawcinefs and boyish troops, The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his Territories. That hand which had the ftrength, ev'n at your door, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch; This unheard Saweinefs and boyish Troops,] Thus the printed Copies in general; but unheard is an Epithet of very little Force, or Meaning here; befides, let us obferve how 'tis coupled. Faulconbridge is fneering at the Dauphin's Invafion, as an unadvis'd Enterprize, favouring of Youth and Indiscretion; the Refult of Childishness, and unthinking Rafhnefs: and he feems altogether to dwell on this Character of it, by calling his Preparation boyish Troops, dwarfif War, pigmy Arms, &c. which, according to my Emendation, fort very well with unbair'd, i. e. unbearded Sawciness. THEOBALD. Το To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; Lewis. There end thy Brave, and turn thy face in We grant, thou canft out-fcold us; fare thee well: With fuch a babler. Pand. Give me leave to speak. Faul. No, I will speak. Lewis. We will attend to neither: Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war Faule. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And fo fhall you, being beaten; do but start And And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. For at hand A bare-ribb'd death; whose office is this day SCENE V. Changes to a Field of Battle. Alarms. Enter King John and Hubert. K. John. HOW goes the day with us? oh, tell me, Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear; how fares your Majefty? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me fo long, Lies heavy on me. Oh, my heart is fick! Enter a Messenger. Mef. My Lord, your valiant kinfman, Faulconbridge, Defires your Majefty to leave the field; And fend him word by me which way you go. K. John. Tell him, tow'rd Swinstead, to the Abbey there. Mef. Be of good Comfort: for the great Supply, That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin fands. This news was brought to Richard but ev'n now. The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on tow❜rd Swinftead; to my Litter ftrait; Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint. DIN Exeunt. SCENE Sal. I Changes to the French Camp. Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot. Did not think the King fo ftor'd with friends. If they miscarry, we mifcarry too: Sal. That mif-begotten devil, Faulconbridge, In fpight of spight, alone upholds the day. Pemb. They fay, King John, fore fick, hath left the field. Enter Melun, wounded. Melun. Lead me to the Revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. Pemb. It is the Count Melun. Sal. Wounded to death. Melun. Fly, noble English, you are bought and fold; 2 Unthread the rude eye of Rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith. 2 Unthread the rude Eye of Rebellion.] Tho' all the Copies concur in this Reading, how poor is the Metaphor of unthreading the Eye of a Needle? And, befides, as there is no Mention made of a Needle, how remote and obfcure is the Allufion without it? The Text, as I have reftor'd it, is eafy and natural'; and it is the Mode of Expreffion, which our Author is every where fond of, to tread and untread, the Way, Path, Steps, THEOBALD. &c. The metaphor is certainly harfh, but I do not think the paffage corrupted. Upon Upon the altar at St. Edmondsbury; Ev'n on that altar, where we fwore to you Sal. May this be poffible! may this be true! Melun. Have I not hideous death within my view? Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away, ev'n as a form of wax Why should I then be falfe, fince it is true, But ev❜n this night, whose black contagious breath Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied fun, Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives, In 3 Rated treachery] It were eafy to change rated to hated for an easier meaning, but rated fuits better with fine. The Dauph n foul has rated your treachery, and fet upon it a fine which your lives must pay. Of |