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Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news ;
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
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,
Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty Heaven,
[Exeunt. SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.
Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.
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?
He is more patient
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; 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
I am the cygnet to this pale, faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death;
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born
Re-enter BIGOT 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. P. Hen.
How fares your majesty?
K. John. Poisoned,- ill fare; dead, forsook, cast off;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
P. Hen. O that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you.
The salt in them is hot.-
Enter the Bastard.
Bast. 0, I am scalded with my violent emotion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
K. John. O, cousin, thou art come to set mine
Bast. The dauphin is preparing hitherward;
[The King dies.
Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.My liege! my lord! But now a king,-now thus.
P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay!
Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind,
Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths; And instantly return with me again,
To push destruction and perpetual shame
Out of the weak door of our fainting land.
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought;
Sal. It seems you know not then so much as we.
Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees
Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,
Bast. Let it be so;-and you, my noble prince,
P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interred;
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To rest without a spot for evermore.
P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears.
Bast. 0, let us pay the time but needful woe,