ke

We grant, thou canst out-fcold us; fare thee well:
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With fuch a babler.

Pand. Give me leave to fpeak.

Faul. No, I will fpeak.

Lewis. We will attend to neither:

Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war
Plead for our int'rest, and our being here.

Faul. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry

out;

And so shall you, being beaten; do but start
An Echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverb'rate all as loud as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. For at hand
(Not trusting to this halting Legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport, than need)
Is warlike John; and in his forehead fits
A bare-ribb'd death; whose office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

Lewis. Strike up our drums, to find this dangerout.

Faul. And thou shall find it, Dauphin, do not

doubt.

SCENE V.

Changes to a Field of Battle.

Alarms. Enter King John and Hubert

[Exeunt.

K. John. HOW goes the day with us? oh, tell me,

Hub. Badly, I fear; how fares your Majesty ?
K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me fo

long,

Lies heavy on me; oh, my heart is fick!

Enter

Mes. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Defires your Majesty 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.

Mes. Be of good Comfort: for the great Supply, That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Godwin-sands. This news was brought to Richard but ev'n now; The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.

K. John. Ah me! this tyrant feaver burns me up, And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on tow'rd Swinstead; to my Litter strait; Weakness poffefseth me, and I am faint.

Sal.

I

Changes to the French Camp.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot.

[Exeunt.

Did not think the King so stor'd with friends.
Pemb. Up once again; put spirit in the French:

If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

Sal. That mif-begotten devil, Faulconbridge,

In spight of spight, alone upholds the day.

Pemb. They say, 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;

Unthread the rude eye of Rebellion,
And welcome home again difcarded faith.

Seek

Se

Re

Seek out King John, and fall before his feet:
For if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompence the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads; thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at St. Edmonsbury;
Ev'n on that altar, where we fwore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be possible! 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
Resolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire?

What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the usfe of all deceit?

Why should I then be false, since it is true,
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
I fay again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forfworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east.
But ev'n this night, whose black contagious breath
Already fmokes about the burning creft
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied fun,
Ev'n this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,
Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your affistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your King;

eft The love of him, and this respect befides,
(For that my grandfire was an Englishman,)
Awakes my confcience to confefs 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 foul,
With contemplation, and devout defires.

fo

Se

Sal. We do believe thee, and beshrew my foul But I do love the favour and the form

Of

Of this most fair occafion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,

Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
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 shall 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.

Enter Lewis, and his Train.

HE fun of heav'n, methought, was loth

Lewis.

THE

to fet,

But staid, 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 needless shot,
After fuch 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 Meffenger.

Mes. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ?
Lewis. Here; what news?

Mes. The count Melun is flain; the Englishlords

By his perfuafion are again fall'n off;
And your fupply, which you have wish'd fo long,
Are cast away, and funk on Godwin sands.

Lewis. Ah foul, shrewd, news! Beshrew thy very heart,

I did not think to be sad to night,

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

The stumbling night did part our weary powers? Mes. Who ever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

Lewis. 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.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VIII.

An open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert, feverally.

Hub.

WHO's there? fpeak, ho! Ipeak quickly,

Faul. A friend. What art thou?

Hub. Of the part of England.

Faul. And whither dost thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee?

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

Faul. 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?

Faul. Who thou wilt; and, if thou please, Thou may'st be friend 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

-*

thou and endless night] We should read, eyeless. So Pin

dar calls the Moon, the Eye of Night.

VOL. IV.

M

Faul.