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In faint retire: 0, bravely came we off,
Enter a Messenger.
Here : What news? Mess. The count Melun is slain
the English lords, By his persuasion, are again fallen off : And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands. Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news !- Beshrew thy very
Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
An open place in the neighbourhood of Swinstead
Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting.
or I shoot.
Of the part of England.
Bast. Whither dost thou go?
Bast. Hubert, I think.
Thou hast a perfect thought:
upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so
Who art thou ?
Bast. Who thou wilt : an if thou please,
any accent breaking from thy tongue, Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans' compliment, what news
abroad? Hub. Why, here walk 1, in the black brow of
night, To find you out. Bast.
Brief, then; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news ;
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk:
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him?
Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?
Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven!
The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey.
Enter Prince Henry, SALISBURY, and Bigot.
P. Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house,) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality.
Enter PEMBROKE. Pem. His Highness yet doth speak; and holds
belief, That, being brought into the open air, It would allay the burning quality Of that fell poison which assaileth him. :: P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard
here. Doth he still rage?
[Erit BIGOT. Pem.
He is more patient Than when
left him; even now he sung.
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes,
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born
Re-enter Bigot and Attendants, who bring in King
John in a Chair.
P. Hen. How fares your majesty?
cast off : And none of
will bid the winter come,
burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait ’,
The salt in 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 the Bastard.
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty. K. John. O) cousin, thou art come to set mine
eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair : My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be utter'd; And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod, And module 3 of confounded royalty.
Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ; Where, heaven .he knows, how we shall answer
him : For, in a night, the best 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 these dead news in as dead an
My liege! my lord ! — But now a king,
thus. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so
2 Narrow, avaricious.