Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well. Who art thou? 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. 20 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: 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? 30 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, And tempt us not to bear above our power! Forces. I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power* this night, 41 [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The orchard in Swinstead Abbey. Enter PRINCE Henry, SalISBURY, and BIGOT. P. Hen. It is too late: the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain, Doth by the idle comments that it makes 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? ΙΟ [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 prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them invisible, 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, 20 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. K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room; It would not out at windows nor at doors. P. Hen. How fares your majesty? 30 K. John. Poison'd,-ill fare-dead, forsook, cast off: And none of you will bid the winter come Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 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. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty! 50 K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd, My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, *Model. 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, 60 [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 To do the office for thee of revenge, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, As it on earth hath been thy servant still. 70 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 Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; 80 Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; For many carriages he hath dispatch'd To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel With whom yourself, myself and other lords, To consummate this business happily. Bast. Let it be so: and you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spared, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. 90 P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; For so he will'd it. Bast. Thither shall it then: To whom, with all submission, on my knee And true subjection everlastingly. 100 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. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. 111 This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. |