Of this most fair occafion, by the which
We will untread the fteps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our ranknefs and irregular courfe,

Stoop low within those bounds, we have o'er-look'd; And calmly run on in obedience

Ev'n to our ocean, to our great King John.

My arm fhall give thee help to bear thee hence,

For I do fee the cruel pangs of death

Pight in thine eye. Away, my friends; new flight; And happy newness, that intends old right?

[Exeunt, leading off Melun.

Changes to a different part of the French Camp.

Lewis.

Enter Lewis, and his Train.

THE

HE fun of heav'n, methought, was loth
to fet,

But ftaid, and made the weftern welkin blush,
When th' English meafur'd backward their own ground
In faint retire: oh, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needlefs shot,
After fuch bloody toil, we bid good night;
And wound our 2. tatter'd colours clearly up,
Laft in the field, and almoft lords of it!

Enter a Mejenger.

Mef. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?

Lewis. Here. What news?

Mef. The count Melun is flain; the Englife lords

By his perfuafion are again fall'n off;

And your fupply, which you have wifh'd fo long,

Arakaway, and funk on Godwin fands.

Leman Aa foul, threwd, news! Behrew thy very heart,

158 not this to be fo fad to night.

As this hath made me. Who was he, that faid,
King How did By, an hour or two before

The Homburg night did part our weary powers?
Just Who ever pose it, it is true, my lord,
Lézis. Well, keep good quarter, and good care
to night;

The day fhall not be up fo foon as I,

To by the fair adventure of to morrow.

SC ENE VIII.

[Exeunt.

An agen Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinftead Abbey.

Ear Faulconbridge, and Hubert feverally.

HO's there? fpeak, ho! fpeak quickly,

or I shoot.

Fan A friend. What art thou?
Hab. Of the part of England.
Filmit. And whither doft thou go?
H... What's that to thee?

Way may not I demand of thine affairs,
As well as thou of mine?

Fault. Hubert, I think.

Hib. Thou hait a perfect thought.

I will upon all hazards well believe

Thou art my friend, that know'ft my tongue fo well. Who art thou?

Faule. Who thou wilt; and, if thou please, Thou may't be friend me fo much, as to think, I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless

night

3 —low and endless night] We should read, eveless. So Pindar calls the Moon, the eye of night.

WARBURTON.
Have

Have done me fhame. Brave foldier, pardon me,
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

Faulc. Come, come; Sans compliment, what news abroad?

Hub. Why here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out.

Faulc. Brief then: and what's the news?

Hub. O my fweet Sir, news fitted to the night; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Faulc. Shew me the very wound of this ill news, I am no woman, I'll not fwoon at it.

Hub. The King, I fear, is poifon'd by a Monk. I left him almoft speechlefs, and broke out T'acquaint you with this evil; that you might The better arm you to the fudden time, Than if you had at leisure known of this.

Faulc. How did he take it? Who did tafte to him?
Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
Whofe bowels fuddenly burft out; the King
Yet fpeaks; and, peradventure, may recover.
Faulc. Who didit thou leave to tend his Majefty?
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come
back,'

And brought Prince Henry in their company;
At whofe request the King hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Majefty.

Faulc. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heav'n!
And tempt us not to bear above our power.
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my pow'rs this night,
Paffing these flats, are taken by the tide
Thefe Lincoln-wafhes have devoured them;
Myfelf, well mounted, hardly have efcaped.
Away, before. Conduct me to the King;
I doubt, he will be dead, or e'er I come.

Kk 2

[Exeunt.

SCENE

IT

Changes to the Orchard in Swinstead Abbey., Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot. Henry. T is too late; the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain, Which fome fuppofe the foul's frail dwelling-house, Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Fortel the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief,

That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poifon, which affaileth him.

Henry. Let him be brought into the orchard here. Doth he ftill rage?

Pemb. He is more patient,

Than when you left him; even now he fung.
Henry. O vanity of fick nefs! fierce extream
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them infenfible; his fiege is now,
Against the mind; the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of ftrange fantafies;

Which in their throng and prefs to that laft hold, Confound themfelves. 'Tis ftrange that death fhould fing.

I am the cygnet to this pale, faint fwain,
Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ pipe of frailty, fings

His foul and body to their lafting rest.

Sal. Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born

To fet a form upon that indigeft,

Which he hath left fo fhapelefs and fo rude.

4 in their thrang and prefs-] In their tumult and hurry of reforting to the laft tenable part.

King

King John brought in.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my foul hath elbow.

room;

It would not out at windows, nor at doors,
There is fo hot a fummer in my bofom,
That all my bowels crumble up to duft.
I am a fcribled form drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment, and against this fire
Do I fhrink up.

Henry. How fares your Majesty?

K. John. Poifon'd. 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 courfe
Through my burn'd bofom: nor intreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not afk

I do not ask you 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.

Faule. 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 fhrowds, wherewith my life fhould fail,

Are