Stoop low within those bounds we have o’erlooked,
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

2

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,
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. .
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.

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 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 poisoned 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.

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;
At whose request the king hath pardoned them,
And they are all about his majesty.

Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty Heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,

, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide ; These Lincoln washes have devoured them; Myself, well mounted, hardly have escaped. Away, before ! conduct me to the king; I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.

3

Enter PRINCE HENRY, 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)

2

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?

[Exit Bigot. Pem.

He is more patient
Than when

you
left him; even now he

sung:
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes,
In their continuance, will not feel themselves.
Death, having preyed upon the outward parts,
Leaves them insensible ;2 and his siege is now
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies;
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should

sing.
I am the cygnet to this pale, faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born
To set a form upon that indigest
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.
Re-enter Bigor and Attendants, who bring in King

John in a chair. K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust. I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen Upon a parchment; and against this fire Do I shrink up.

a

a

P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?

K. John. Poisoned,-ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off;
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burned bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much;

I
I beg cold comfort: and you are so strait,
And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

P. Hen. O that there were some virtue in my tears,
That might relieve you!
K. John.

The salt in them is hot. -
Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize
On unreprievable, condemned blood.

Enter the Bastard.
Bast. 0, I am scalded with my violent emotion,
And spleen of speed to see your majesty.

K. John. 0, cousin, thou art come to set mine eye.
The tackle of my heart is cracked and burned;
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 uttered;
And then all this thou seest, is but a clod,

a And module 2 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.