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Ev'n in the jaws of danger, and of death.

[Trumpet Jounds. What lufty trumpet thus doth fummon us?

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Faule. According to the fair Play of the world,
Let me have audience. I am fent to speak,
My holy lord of Milain, from the King:
I come to learn how you have dealt for him :
And as you anfwer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-oppofite.
And will not temporize with my entreaties :
He flatly fays, he'll not lay down his arms.

Faulc. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The Youth fays well. Now hear our English King; For thus his Royalty doth fpeak in me: He is prepar'd; and reafon too he should. This apifh and unmannerly approach, This harness'd mafk, and unadvised revel, This unhair'd faucinefs and boyish troops, The King doth fmile at; and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish war, thefe pigmy arms, From out the circle of his Territories.

That hand which had the ftrength, ev'n at your door, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;

This unheard Sweinefs and toyish Troops, Thus the printed Copies in general; but unbeard is an Epithet of very litthe Force, or Meaping here; befides, let us obferve how 'tis coupled. Fauleni ridge is fneering at the Dauphin's Invafion, as an unadvis'd Enterprize, favouring of Youth and Indifcretion,

the Refult of Childishness and unthinking Rafhnefs and he feems altogether to dwell on this Character of it, by calling his Preparation boyish Troops, dwarf War, pigmy Arms, &c. which, according to my Emendation, fort very well with unkair'd, i. e. unbtarded Sawcinefs.

THEOBALD

Το

To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ;
To crouch in litter of your ftable planks,
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chefts and trunks;
To herd with fwine; to feek fweet fafety out,
In vaults and prifons; and to thrill, and shake,
Ev'n at the crying of our nation's Crow,
Thinking his voice an armed English man;
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement?
No; know, the gallant Monarch is in arms,
And like an Eagle o'er his Aiery tow'rs,
To foufe annoiance that comes near his neft.
And you degen'rate, you ingrate Revolts,
You bloody Nero's, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame.
For your own ladies, and pale-vifag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their Thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needles to Lances, and their gentle Hearts
To fierce and bloody Inclination.

Lewis. There end thy Brave, and turn thy face in peace;

We grant, thou canst out-fcold us; fare thee well: We hold our time too precious to be spent

With fuch a babler.

Pand. Give me leave to speak.

Faulc. No, I will speak.

Lewis. We will attend to neither:

Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war

Plead for our int'reft, and our being here.

'Faulc. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry

out;

And fo fhall you, being beaten; do but start

An Echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And ev❜n at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That fhall reverb'rate all as loud as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,

And

And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. For at hand
(Not trusting to this halting Legate here;
Whom he hath us'd rather for fport, than need)
Is warlike John; and in his forehead fits
A bare-ribb'd death: whofe office is this day
To feaft upon whole thousands of the French.
Lewis. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Faulc. And thou fhalt find it, Dauphin, do not
[Exeunt.

doubt.

SCENE V.

Changes to a Field of Battle.

Alarms. Enter King John and Hubert.

K. John. H
How

goes the day with us? oh, tell me,

Hubert.

Hub. Badly, I fear; how fares your Majefty?

K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me fo long, Lies heavy on me. Oh, my heart is fick!

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. My Lord, your valiant kinfman, Faulconbridge,

Defires your Majefty to leave the field;

And fend him word by me which way you go.

K. John. Tell him, tow'rd Swinftead, to the Abbey there.

Mef. Be of good Comfort: for the great Supply, That was expected by the Dauphin here,

Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin fands.
This news was brought to Richard but ev'n now.
The French fight coldly, and retire themfelves.

K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.
Set on tow'rd Swinstead; to my Litter ftrait;
Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint. Exeunt

SCENE

Sal.

SCENE

VI.

Changes to the French Camp.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

I'

Did not think the King fo ftor'd with friends.
Pemb. Up once again; put fpirit in the
French:

If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

Sal. That mif-begotten devil, Faulconbridge, In fpight of fpight, alone upholds the day.

Pemb. They fay, King John, fore fick, hath left the field.

Enter Melun, wounded,

Melun. Lead me to the Revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. Pemb. It is the Count Melun.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Melun. Fly noble English, you are bought and fold; • Unthread the rude eye of Rebellion,

And welcome home again difcarded faith.
Seek out King John, and fall before his feet:
For if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompenfe the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads; thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,

2 Unthread the rude Eye of Rebellion.] Tho' all the Copies concur in this Reading, how poor is the Metaphor of unthreading the Eye of a Needle? And, befides, as there is no Mention made of a Needle, how remote and obfcure is the Allufon without it? The Text, as

I have reftor'd it, is eafy and natural; and it is the Mode of Expreffion, which our Author is every where fond of, to tread and untread, the Way, Path, Steps, THEOBALD. The metaphor is certainly harfh, but I do not think the paffage corrupted.

&c.

Upon

Upon the altar at St. Edmondsbury;

Ev'n on that altar, where we fwore to you

Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be poffible! may this be true!
Melun. Have I not hideous death within my view?
Retaining but a quantity of life,

Which bleeds away, ev'n as a form of wax
Refolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire?
What in the world fhould make me now deceive,
Since I must lofe the ufe of all deceit ?
Why should I then be falfe, fince it is true.
That I muft die here, and live hence by truth?
I fay again, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forfworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east,

But ev'n this night, whofe black contagious breath
Already fmoaks about the burning creft
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied fun,
Ev'n this ill night, your breathing fhall expire;
Paying the fine of 3 rated treachery,

Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your affiftance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your King 3
The love of him, and this refpect befides
(For that my grandfire was an Englishman),
Awakes my confcience to confefs all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noife and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace; and part this body and my foul,
With contemplation and devout defires.

Sal. We do believe thee, and befhrew my foul, But I do love the favour and the form

3 Rated treachery,] It were eafy to change rated to hated for an easier meaning, but rated fuits better with fine. The Dauphin

has rated you treachery, and fet upon it a fine which your lives muft pay.

Of

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