Enter PeMBROKE, SALISBURY, and Bigot.

Hub. I am no villain. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund's Bury. Sal. Must I rub the law ? [Drawing his sword. It is our safety, and we must embrace

Bast. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again! This gentlc offer of the perilous time.

Sal. Not, till I sheath it in a murderer's skin. Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say ! Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France, By heaven, I think, my sword's as

sharp as yours :
Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love, I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,
Is much more general, than these lines import. Nor tempt the danger of my true defence,
Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then! Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Sal. Or rather then set forward : for 'twill be Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
Two long day's journey, lords, or e'er we meet. Big. Ont, duughill! dar'st thou brave a nobleman?
Enter the Bastard.

Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend
Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords ! My innocent life against an emperor.
The king, by me, request your presence straight.

Šal. Thou art a murderer.
Sal. The king hath dispossessid himself of us; Hub. Do not prove me so !
We will not line his thin bestained cloak

Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, With our pure honours, nor attend the foot,

Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. That leaves the print of blood, where-e'er it walks. Pem. Čut him to pieces ! Return, and tell him so : we know the worst. Bast. Keep the peace, I say! Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. best.

Bast. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury. Sul. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.

If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Bast. But there is little reason in your grief.: Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime! Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, Bast. 'Tis truc; to hurt his master, no man else. That you shall think, the devilis come from hell. Sal. This is the prison. What is he lies here? Big: What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge?

(Seeing Arthur. Second a villain, and a murderer? Pem. O death, made proud with pure and princely Hlub. Lord Bigot, I am none. beauty!

Big. Who kill'd this prince? The earth hath not a hole to hide this deed.

Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well. Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done,

I honour'd him, I lov'd him, and will weep Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.

My date of lifeout for his sweet life's loss. Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave,

Šal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes ! Fonnd it too precious-princely for a grave.

For villainy is not without such rheum,
Sal. Sir Richard, what think you ? Have you beheld, And he, long traded in it, makes it seem,
Or have you read, or heard ? or could you think? Like rivers of remorse and innocency.
Or do you almost think, although you see,

Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
That you do see? could thought, without this object, The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house!
Form such another ? This is the very top,

Forlam stitled with this smell of sin. The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Big. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us out. The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke,

(Exeunt Lords. That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,

Bast. Here's a good world! -Knew you of this fair Presented to the tears of soft remorse.

work? Pem. All murders past do stand excus'd in this: Beyond the infinite and boundless reach And this, so sole, and so unmatchable,

of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Shall give a holiness, a purity,

Art thou damn'd, Hubert. To the yet unbegotten sin of time,

Hub. Do but hear me, sir! And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,

Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what: Exampled by this heinous spectacle.

Thou art damn'd as black — nay, nothing is so black; Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work,

Thou art more deep damn’d, than prince Lucifer. The graceless action of a heavy hand,

There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell, If that it be the work of any hand.

As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ?

Hub. Upon my soul, — We had a kind of light, what would ensue:

Bast. If thou didst but consent It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand,

To this most cruel act, do but despair! The practice, and the purpose, of the king - And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread, From whose odedience I forbid my soul,

That ever spider twisted from her womb, Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,

Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be And breathing to his breathless excellence

A beam to hang thee on; or, would'st thou drown The incense of avow, a holy vow :

thyself, Never to taste the pleasures of the world,

Put but a little water in a spoon, Never to be infected with delight,

And it shall be as all the ocean, Nor conversant with ease and idleness,

Enough to stifle such a villain up.Till I have set a glory to this hand,

I do suspect thee very grievously. By giving it the worship of revenge.

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, Pem. Big. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath, Enter HUBERT.

Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
Arthur doth live; theking hath sent for you.

I left him well.
Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death. Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms! -
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!

I am amaz’d, methinks, and lose my way

(Exeunt.

308

Among the thorns and dangers of this world. (Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust!
How easy dost thou take all England up!

Govern the motion of a kingly eye:
From forth this morsel of dead royalty,

Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; The life, the right, and truth of all this realm

Threaten the threat’ner, and outface the brow
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left

of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes,
To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth That borrow their behaviours from the great,
The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. Grow great by your example, and put on
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,

The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,

Away, and glister, like the god of war, And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:

When he intendeth to become the field ! Now powers from home, and discontents at home, Show boldness, and aspiring confidence. Meet in one line, and vast confusion waits,

What, shall they seek thelion in his den, As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,

And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.

0, let it not be said ! Forage, and run
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can To meet displeasure further from the doors,
Hold out this tempest! Bear away that child, And grapple with him, ere he comes so nigh!
And follow me with speed ! I'll to the king.

K.John. The legate of the pope hath been with me,
A thousand businesses are briefin hand,

And I have made a happy peace with him ; And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. (Exeunt. And he hath promis'd, to dismiss the powers,

Led by the Dauphin.

Bust. O inglorious league!
А ст V.

Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
SCENE I. The same. A room in the palace. Send fair-play orders, and make compromise,
Enter King John, PanduLPH with the crown, and Insinuation, parley, and base truce,
Attendants.

To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, K. John. Thus have! yielded up into your hand A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields, The circle of my glory.

And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Pand. Take again [Giving John the crown. Mocking the air with colours idly spread, From this my hand, as holding of the pope,

And find no check? Letus, my liege, to arms!
Your sovereign greatness and authority!

Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace,
K. John. Now keep your holy word, go meet the Or if he do, let it at least be said,
French,

They saw, we had a purpose of defence.
And from his holiness use all your power

K.John. Have thou the ordering of this present time! To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd! Bast.Away then,with good courage ! yet, I know, Our discontented counties do revolt,

Our party may well meet a prouder foe. Our people quarrel with obedience,

SCENE II. A plain, near St Edmund's-Bury. Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul,

Enter, in arms, Lewis, SALISBURY, Melun, PEMBROKE, To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.

Bigot, and Soldiers. This inundation of mistemper'd humour

Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, Rests by you only to be qualified.

And keep it safe for our remembrance ! Then pause not! for the present time's so sick, Return the precedent to these lords again, That present medicine must be minister'd,

That, having our fair order written down, Or overthrow incurable ensues.

Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes, Pand. It was my breath, that blew this tempest up, May know, wherefore we took the sacrament, Upon your stubborn usage of the pope:

And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
But, since you are a gentle convertite,

Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war, And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear
And make fair weather in your blustering land. A voluntary zeal, and unurg'd faith,
On this Ascension-day, remember well,

To your proceedings, yet, believe me, prince,
Upon your oath of service to the pope,

I am not glad, that such a sore of time
Gol to make the French lay down their arms. (Exit. Should seek a plaister by contemn'drevolt,

K.John. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet And heal the inveterate canker of one wound,
Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon,

By making many. O, it grieves my soul,
My crowns should give off? Even so I have; That I must draw this metal from my side,
I did suppose, it should be on constraint;

To be a widow-maker. 0, and there,
But, heaven be thank’d, it is but voluntary.

Where honourable rescue, and defence,
Enter the Bastard.

Cries out upon the name of Salisbury.
Bast. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out, But such is the infection of the time,
But Dover castle. Londou hath receiv’d,

That, for the health and physic of our right,
Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers. We cannot deal but with the very hand
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone, Ofstern injustice and confused wrong.--
To offer service to your enemy;

And is't not pity, O my grieved friends!
And wild amazement hurries up and down

That we, the sons and children of this isle, The little number of your doubtful friends.

Were born to see so sad an hour as this?
K. John. Would not my lords return to me again, Wherein we step after a stranger march
After they heard young Arthur was alive?

Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the streets, Acr enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep
An empty casket, where the jewel of life

Upon the spot of this enforced cause,)
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta’en away. To grace the gentry of a land remote,
K. John. That villain Hubert told me, he did live. And follow unacquainted colours here?
Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. What, here? – O nation, that thou could'st remore!
But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad ? That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about,
Be great in act, as you have been in thought! Would bear thee from ihe knowledge of thyself,

T H: TI T! TE AC TE

And grapple thee unto a pagan shore,

And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?
Where these two Christian armies might combine No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
The blood of malice in a vein of league,

Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
And not to spend it so unneighbourly!

Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return,
Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this, Till my attempt so much be glorified
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom,

As to my ample hope was promised,
Do make an earthquake of nobility.

Before I drew this gallant head of war,
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought

And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world,
Between compulsion and a brave respect !

To outlook conquest, and to win renown
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,

Even in the jaws of danger and of death. -
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks!

[Trumpet sounds. My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,

What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Being an ordinary inundation;

Enter the Bastard, attended.
But this effusion of such manly drops,

Bast. According to the fair play of the world,
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Let me have audience! I anı sent to speak.
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz’d, My holy lord of Milan, from the king
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven

I come, to learn, how you have dealt for him;
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.

And, as you answer, I do know the scope
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,

And warrant limited unto my tongue.
And with a great heart heave away this storm! Pund. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
Commend these waters to those baby eyes,

And will not temporize with my entreaties.
That never saw the giant world enrag'd,

He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.
Nor met with fortune other, than at feasts,

Bast. By all the blood, that ever fury breath'd,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping! The youth says well. — Now hear our English king!
Come, come! for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep For thus his royalty doth speak in me:
Into the purse of rich prosperity,

Heis prepar'd, and reason too, he should.
As Lewis himself. So, nobles, shall you all,

This apish and unmannerly approach,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. This harness'd masque, 'and unadvised revel,
Enter PANDULPH, attended.

This unhaird sauciness, and boyish troops,
And even there, methinks, an angel spake:

The king doth smile at, and is well prepar'd
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,

To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven,

From out the circle of his territories.
And on our actions set the name of right,

That hand, which had the strength, even at your door,
With holy breath.

To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch,
Pand. Mail, noble prince of France!

To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells,
The next is this: king John hath reconcil'd

To crouch in litter of your stable planks,
Himself to Rome: his spirit is come in,

To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks,
That so stood out against the holy church,

To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
The great metropolis and see of Rome.

In vaults and prisons, and to thrill, and shake,
Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind op, Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war,

Thinking his voice an armed Englishman
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,

Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,

That in your chambers gave you chastisement?
And be no further harmful, than in show!

No, know, the gallant monarch is in arms,
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back. And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
I am too high-born to be propertied,

To souse annoyance, that comes near his nest. -
To be a secondary at controal,

And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,

You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
To any sovereign state throughout the world. of your dear mother England, blush for shame!
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids,
Between this chástis'd kingdom and myself, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums,
And brought in matter, that should feed this fire; Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
And now'tis far too huge, to be blown out

Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
With that same weak wind, which enkindled it. To fierce and bloody inclination.
You taught me, how to know the face of right, Lew. There end thy brave,and turn thy face in peace!
Acquainted me with interest to this land,

We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well! Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;

We hold our time too precious to be spent
And come you now to tell me, John hath made With such a brabbler.
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? Pand. Give me leave to speak!
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,

Bast. No, I will speak.
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;

Lew. We will attend to neither:
And, now it is half-conquerd, must I back, Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? Plead for our interest, and our being here!
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,

Bast.Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;

And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start
To underprop this action? Is't not I,

An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
That undergo this charge? Who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,

And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,

That shall reverberate all as lond, as thine.
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out,

Sound but another, and another shall,

As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,

And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand

(Not trusting to this halting legate here, To win this easy match, play'd for a crown?

Whom he hath us'd rather for sport, than need,)

310

Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits

Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; A bare-ribb’s death, whose office is this day The love of him, - and this respect besides, To feast upon whole thousands of the French. For that my grandsire was an Englishman, Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. Awakes my conscience to confess all this. Bust. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence

(Exeunt. From forth the noise and rumour of the field; SCENE III. - The same. A field of battle. Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts

Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. In peace, and part this body and my soul K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hu- With contemplation and devout desires. bert!

Sal. We do believe thee,- and beshrew

my

soul,
Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty ? But I do love the favour and the form
K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, of this most fair occasion, by the which
Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!

We will untread the steps of damned flight;
Enter a Messenger.

And, like a bated and retired flood,
Mess. My lord, your

valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Desires your majesty to leave the field,

Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
And send him word by me, which way you go. And calmly run on in obedience,
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey Even to our ocean, to our great king John. -
there.

My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;
Mess. Be of good comfort! for the great supply, For I do see the cruel pangs of death
That was expected by the Dauphin here,

Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight;
Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. And happy newness, that intends old right.
This news was brought to Richard but even now:

[Exeunt, leading off" Melun. The French fight coldly, and relire themselves.

K. John. Al me! this tyrant fever burns me up, SCENE V. - The same. The French camp.
And will not let me welcome this good news. -

Enter Lewis and his Train,
Set on toward Swinstead! to my litter straight! Lew. The sun of heaven,methought, was loath to set;
Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. (Exeunt. But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush,

When the English measur'd backward their own
SCENE IV. - The same. Another part of the same. ground,

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, Bigot, and others. In faint retire. 0, bravely came we off,
Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. When with a volley of our needless shot,
Pem. Up once again! put spirit in the French! After such bloody toil, we bid good night,
If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, Last in the field, and almost lords of it!
In spite of spite, alone npholds the day.

Enter a Messenger,
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
field.

Lew, Here. What news?
Enter Melun wounded, and led by soldiers. Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords,
Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here! By his persnasion, are again fall’n off:
Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.

And your supply, which you have wish'd so long,
Pem. It is the count Melun.

Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
Sal. Wounded to death.

Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news! - Beshrew thy very
Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; heart!
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

I did not think to be so sad to-night,
And welcome home again discarded faith.

As this hath made me.

Who was he, that said,
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet!

King John did fly, an honr or two before
For, if the French be lords of this loud day, The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
He means to recompense the pains you take,

Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, Lew. Well! keep good quarter, and good care to-
And I with him, and many more with me,

night! Upon the altar at St Edmund's-Bury,

The day shall not be up so soon as I,
Even on that altar, where we swore to you

To try the fair adventure of to-morrow,
Dear amity and everlasting love.'
Sal. May this be possible? may this be true ? SCENE VI.
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,

An open place in the neighbourhood

of Świnsteud-Abbey. Retaining but a quantity of life,

Enter the Bastard and Hubert, meeting Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax

Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I Resolveth from his figure'gainst the fire ?

shoot. What in the world should make me now deceive, Bast. A friend. What art thou? Since I must lose the use of all deceit?

Hub. Of the part of England. Why should I then be false? since it is true,

Bast. Whither dost thou go? That I must die here, and live hence by truth?

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours

Bust. Hubert, I think. Behold another day break in the east:

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought; But even this night, - whose black contagious breath I will, upon all hazards, well believe, Already smokes about the burning crest

Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well.
Ofthe old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,

Who art thou?
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please,
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Thou may'st befriend me so much, as so think,
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, I come one way of the Plantagenets.
If Lewis by your assistance win the day

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night,

P. Is to

Doula Fore

Pere

(E.reunt.

P.

Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me, That all my bowels crumble np to dust.
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,

I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen
Should’scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Upon a parchment; and against this fire
Bast. Come, come! sans compliment! What news Do I shrink up.
abroad?

P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?
Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, K.John. Poison'd, -illfare;-dead,forsook, cast off:
To find you out.

And none of you will bid the winter come,
Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news?

To thrust his icy fingers in my maw,
Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Norlet my kingdom's rivers take their course
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north,
Bust. Show me the very wound of this ill news! To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips,
I ain no woman, I'll not swoon at it.

And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much,
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison’d by a monk. I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
I left him almost speechless, and broke out

And so ingrateful, you deny me that.
To acquaint you with this evil, that you might P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears,
The better arm you to the sudden time,

That might relieve you!
Than if you had at leisure known of this.

K. John. The salt in them is hot. -
Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Within me is a hell: and there the poison
Hub. A monk, I tell you, a resolved villain, Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king

On unreprievable condemned blood.
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover:

Enter the Bastard.
Bast. Who did'st thou leave to tend his majesty? Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion,
Hub.Why,know you not? the lords are all come back, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
And brought Prince Henry in their company,

K.John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye:
At whose request the king hath pardon’d them, The tackle of my heart is crack”d and burn'd;
And they are all about his majesty.

And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,
Bast. Withhold thine indiguation, mighty heaven, Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
And temptus not to bear above our power!

My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
I'll tell thee, Habert, half my power this night,

Which holds but till thy news be uttered;
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide,

And then all this, thou see'st, is but a clod,
These Lincoln washes have devoured them;

And module of confounded royalty.
Myself, well mounted, hardly have escap'd.

Bast. The Dauphiu is preparing hitherward,
Away, before! conduct me to the king!

Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him;
I doubt he will be dead, or ere I come. [Exeunt. For, in a night, the best part of my power,

As Iupon advantage did remove,
SCENE VII. — The orchard of Swinstead-Abbey. Were in the washes, all unwarily,

Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and Bigor. Devoured by the unexpected flood. (The King dies.
P. Hen. It is too latc; the life of all his blood

Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain

My liege! my lord !- But now a king, - now thus. (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. house)

What surety of the world, what hope, what stay,
Doth, by the idle comments, that it makes,

When this was now a king, and now is clay!
Foretell the ending of mortality.

Bast. 'Art thon gone so? I do but stay behind,
Enter PEMBROKE.

To do the office for thee of revenge ;
Pem. His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,
That, being brought into the open air,

As it on earth hath been thy servant still.-
It would allay the burning quality

Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres,
Of that fell poison, which assaileth him.

Where be your powers?Show now your meuded faiths,
P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here. And instantly return with me again,
Doth he still rage?

(Exit Bigot. To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
Pem. He is more patient,

Out of the weak door of our fainting land !
Than when you left him; even now he sung. Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought;

P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! Fierce extremes, The Dauphin rages at our very heels.
In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Sal. It seems, you know not then so much, as we.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, The cardinal Pandolph is within at rest,
Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Who half an hour since came from the Danphin,
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds And brings from him such offers of our peace,
With many legions of strange fantasies,

As we with honour and respect may take,
Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, With purpose presently to leave this war.
Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees
sing. -

Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
Who chants a dolefal hymn to his own death,
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings

For many carriages he hath despatch'd
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel Sal. Be of good comfort, prince! for you are born

To the disposing of the cardinal, To set a form upon that indigest,

With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, Which he hath left so shapeless and so rnde.

If you think meet, this afternoon will post

To cónsummate this business happily.
Re-enter Bicor und Attendants, who bring in King Bast. Let it be so! - And you, my noble prince,
Johxin a chuir.

With other princes, that may best be spard,
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul Nath elbow-room; Shall wait upon your father's funeral.
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is so hot a summer in my bosom,

P. Hen. Ai Worcester must his body be interr’d;
For so he will'd it.