That was expected by the dauphin here, K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the same. Enter SALISBURY, Pembroke, BIGOT, and others Sal. I did not think the king so stored 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, Upon the altar of Saint Edmund's Bury ; 1 The king had not long since called him by his original name of Philip, but the messenger could not take the same liberty. 2 The Frenchman, i. e. Lewis, means, &c. Even on that altar, where we swore to you Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of 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; Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Sal. We do believe thee,—and beshrew my soul But I do love the favor and the form Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight; And, like a bated and retired flood, 1 i. e. dissolveth. 2 Rankness, as applied to a river, here signifies exuberant, ready to overflow; as applied to the actions of the speaker and his party, it signifies wanton wildness. Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlooked, 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 Right1 in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight! And happy newness,2 that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off MELUN. SCENE V. The same. The French Camp. Enter LEWIS and his Train. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set; But staid, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measured backward their own ground 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 tottering 3 colors 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 wished so long, 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, The stumbling night did part our weary powers? 3 Tottering colors is the reading of the old copy, which was altered to tattered by Johnson, who is followed by the subsequent editors. To totter, in old language, was to waver, to shake with a tremulous motion, as colors would do in the wind. "To tottre (says Baret), nutare, vacillare, ser shake and wagge." 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 Neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey. 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 demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Bast. Hubert, I think. Hub. 2 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 mayst befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night3 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. 1 i. e. keep in your allotted posts or stations. 2 i. e. a well-informed one. 3 The old copy reads “endless night." The emendation was made by Theobald. Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news; Hub. The king, I fear, is poisoned by a monk.1 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. Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? Hub. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought prince Henry in their company; Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty Heaven, Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey. Enter PRINCE HENRY,3 SALISBURY, and BIGOT. P. Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood Is touched corruptibly; and his pure brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) 1 Not one of the historians who wrote within sixty years of the event, mentions this improbable story. The tale is, that a monk, to revenge himself on the king for a saying at which he took offence, poisoned a cup of ale, and having brought it to his majesty, drank some of it himself, to induce the king to taste it, and soon afterwards expired. Thomas Wylkes is the first who mentions it in his Chronicle as a report. According to the best accounts, John died at Newark, of a fever. 2 i. e. less speedily, after some delay. 3 Prince Henry was only nine years old when his father died. |