And, as you answer, I do know the scope Pand. The Dolphin is too wilful-opposite, r'd That hand which had the strength, even at your door, To crouch in litter of your stable planks, To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks, 130 140 To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. 150 And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; To fierce and bloody inclination. Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; We grant thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; We hold our time too precious to be spent With such a brabbler. 138 take the hatch jump the lower half of the door. 160 144 the crying of your nation's crow: a strange line; if we could, it would be well to read," the crowing of your nation's cock; but here "crow" the note of the cock, and "crying" sound. In the next line "his voice" is a mere witness to the heedless facility with which the passage was written.. 150 brave bravado, bragging. Pand. Give me leave to speak. Bast. No, I will speak. Lew. Strike up We will attend to neither. the drums; and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest and our being here. Bust. 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 And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand, SCENE III. The field of battle. Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT. 170 180 [Exeunt. K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, 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. [Exeunt. 11 Goodwin Sands: were off the eastern coast of Kent. See Merchant of Venice, Act III. Sc. 1, line 4. Richard the Bastard, whom the king had made Sir Richard Plantagenet. SCENE IV. Another part of the field. Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT. Sal. I did not think the King so stor'd with friends. 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. Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy we had other names. Sal. Wounded to death. Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax What in the world should make me now deceive, Why should I then be false, since it is true 10 20 That I must die here and live hence by truth? 30 He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours But even this night, whose black contagious breath Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery 15 He means, etc.: that is, Lewis; he being here heedlessly used to mean the King of the French. 17 moe more. 18 Saint Edmundsbury: the abbey of Bury St. Edmunds, in Suffolk, about forty miles northeast of London; now in ruins. If Lewis by your assistance win the day. Sal. We do believe thee: and beshrew my soul Of this most fair occasion, by the which Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Even to our ocean, to our great King John. Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight; 40 50 60 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, Enter a Messenger. Mess. Where is my prince, the Dolphin? Lew. Here: what news? Mess. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords By his persuasion are again fall'n off, And your supply, which Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. you have wish'd so long, Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news! beshrew thy very heart! I did not think to be so sad to-night 44 In lieu in return. a treacherous fine a treacherous end: a quibble on "fine," in S.'s manner. 1Ο 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? Lew. Well; keep good quarter and good care to-night: To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. 20 [Exeunt. SCENE VI. An open place in the neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. Hub. Of the part of England. Why may not I demand Thou hast a perfect thought: Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Hubert, I think? Hub. 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 and 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? Bast. 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: 10 20 12 Unkind remembrance: that is, forgetfulness. 23 A monk. S. found this old story in the old play. King John even die at Swinstead. Taken ill there, he was carried to Sleaford castle, It is mere fable. Nor did and hence again to Newark castle, where he died. S. merely followed the old play. |