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.

SCENE VII.

Changes to a different part of the French camp.
Enter Lewis, and his train.

Lewis. The fun of heav'n, methought, was loth to fet,
But ftaid, and made the western welkin blush;
When th' English measur'd backward their own ground
In faint retire: oh, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needlefs fhot,
After fuch bloody toil, we bid good night;
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Laft in the field, and almoft lords of it !-

Enter a Messenger.

Me. Where is my Prince, the Dauphin?
Lewis. Here; what news?

Me. The Count Melun is flain; the English Lords

By his perfuafion are again fall'n off;

And your fupply, which you have wifh'd fo long,
Are caft away, and funk on Goodwin fands.

Lewis. Ah foul, fhrewd news! Befhrew thy very heart;

I did not think to be fo fad to-night,

As this hath made me. Who was he that faid

King John did fly, an hour or two before

The ftumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Me. Whoever fpoke it, it is true, my Lord.

Lewis. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to

night;

The day fhall not be up fo foon as I,

To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.

S CENE VIII.

[Exeunt.

An open place in the neighbourhood of Swinftead abbey. Enter Faulconbridge and Hubert feverally.

Hub. Who's there? fpeak, ho! fpeak quickly, or I

fhoot.

Faulc. A friend.

What art thou?

Hub. Of the part of England.

Faulc. And whither doft thou go?
Hub. What's that to thee?

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

Faulc. Hubert, I think.

Hub. Thou haft a perfect thought: I will upon all hazards well believe

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

Faulc. Who thou wilt; and, if thou please, Thou may'ft befriend me fo much, as to think, I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyelefs night, Have done me fhame; brave foldier, pardon me, That any accent breaking from thy tongue, Should 'fcape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Faulc. Come, come; fans 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 fitting to the night; Black, fearful, comfortlefs, 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 fpeechlefs, 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 leifure known of this.

Taule, How did he take it? who did tafte to him? Hub. A monk, I tell you; a refolved villain, Whofe bowels fuddenly burft out, the King

Yet fpeaks; and, peradvanture, may recover.

Faule. Who didit thou leave to tend his Majefty? Hub. Why, know you not? the Lords are all còme And brought Prince Henry in their company; [back, At whofe requeft 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 washes have devoured them;
Myfelf, well mounted, hardly have escaped.
Away before. conduct me to the King;
I doubt he will be dead or e'er I come.

[Exeunt.

Changes to the orchard in Swinftead abbey. Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot. Henry. It 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,

Foretel the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds beThat, being brought into the open air,

It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poifon which affaileth him.

[lief,

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 fickness! fierce extremes
In their continuance will not feel thenfelves.
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 fantasies;

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

I am the cygnet to this pale, faint swan,

Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death ;

And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, fings

His foul and body to their lafting reft.

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

VOL. III.

H h

To fet a form upon that indigeft,

Which he hath left fo fhapelefs and fo rude.

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 dust : I am a fcribbled form drawn with a pen Upon a parchment, and against this fire Do I nrick up.

Henry. How fares your Majefty?

K. John. Poifon'd, ill fare! dead, forfook, caft off; "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 afk not much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are fo ftrait,
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

hell; and there the poifon

Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize

On unreprievable, condemned blood.

SCENE X. Enter Faulconbridge.

Faulc. Oh! I am fcalded with my

violent motion,

And fpleen of fpeed to fee your Majefty.

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 should fail,

Are turned to one thread, one little hair :
My heart hath one poor ftring to stay it by,
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 anfwer him.
For, in a night, the beft part of my power,

As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,

Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies. Sal. You breathe thefe dead news in as dead an ear: My Liege my Lord!--but now a King-now thus.

!

Henry. Ev'n fo muft I run on, and ev'n fo ftop*. 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 shame

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

Sal. It feems you know not then fo 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 refpect may take,
With purpose presently to leave this war.

Faulc. He will the rather do it, when he fees
Ourfelves 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 caufe and quarrel
To the difpofing of the Cardinal :

With whom yourself, myself, and other Lords,
If you think meet, this afternoon will poft

To confummate this bufinefs happily.

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 ev'n fo ftop.

What furety of the world, what hope, what ftay,
When this was now a King, and now is clay?
Faul. Art thou gone fo? &c.