K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so

long,

Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge,

Desires your majesty to leave the field;

And send him word by me, which way you go. K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.

Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. This news was brought to Richard but even 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 toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Another Part of the same.

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and others. Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends.

Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the field.

Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers.

Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.' Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. Pem. It is the count Melun.

Sal.

Wounded to death. Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold";

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

And welcome home again discarded faith.
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
He' means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's Bury;
Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life;

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire*?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit?
Why should I then be false; since it is true
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of
yours
Behold another day-break in the east:

But even this night,—whose black contagious breath
Already smokes about the burning crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,-

Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

6 A proverb intimating treachery.

7 Lewis.

In allusion to the images made by witches.

Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him,—and this respect besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,-
Awakes my concience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew my soul
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of this our flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
And calmly run on in obedience,

Even to our ocean, to our great king John.
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;
For I do see the cruel pangs of death

Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight:
And happy newness, that intends old right.

[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.

SCENE V.

The French Camp.

Enter LEWIS and his Train.

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set;

But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measur'd backward their own ground,

9 Innovation.

In faint retire: O, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil we bid good night;
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?

Lew.

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 heart!

I did not think to be so sad to-night,

As this hath made me.- Who was he, that said,
King John did fly, an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary powers?
Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care
to night;,

The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

An open Place in the neighbourhood of SwinsteadAbbey.

Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting.

Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly,

or I shoot.

Bast. A friend :-What art thou?

Hub.

Of the part of England.

Bast. Whither dost thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I de

́mand

Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?»

Bast. Hubert, I think.

Hub.

Thou hast a perfect thought:

I will upon all hazards, well believe

Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so

well:

Who art thou?

Bast.

Who thou wilt: an if thou please,

Thou may'st befriend me so much as to think

I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless

night,

Have done me shame:.

Brave soldier pardon me,

That 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 I, 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 ; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.

Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk
I left him almost speechless, and broke out
To acquaint you with this evil; that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time,
Than if you had at leisure known of this.

:

Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Hub. A monk, I tell you: a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.

I Without.