Are caft away, and funk on Godwin fands.

Lewis. Ah foul, fhrewd, news! Befhrew thy very

heart,

I did not think to be fo fad to night.

As this hath made me.

Who was he, that said,

King John did fly, an hour or two before

The ftumbling night did part our weary powers? Mef. Who ever spoke it, it is true, my lord. Lewis. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to night;

The day fhall not be up fo foon as I,

To try the fair adventure of to morrow.

SCENE

[Exeunt.

VIII.

An open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinftead Abbey. Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert feverally. HO's there? fpeak, ho! fpeak quickly,

Hub.

WHO's

Faulc. A friend.

What art thou?

Hub. Of the part of England.

Faule. And whither doft thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee?

Why may not I demand of thine affairs,

As well as thou of mine?

Faulc. Hubert, I think.

Hub. Thou haft a perfect thought. I will upon all hazards well believe

Thou art my friend, that know'ft my tongue fo well. Who art thou?

Faulc. Who thou wilt; and, if thou please, Thou may'ft be-friend me fo much, as to think, I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night

3 thou and endless night] We fhould read, eveless. So Pindar calls the Moon, the eye of night.

WARBURTON,

Have done me shame. Brave foldier, pardon me,
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should 'fcape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

Faulc. Come, come; Sans compliment, what news

abroad?

Hub. Why here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out.

Faulc. Brief then: and what's the news?

Hub. O my fweet Sir, news fitted to the night; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Faule. Shew me the very wound of this ill news, I am no woman, I'll not fwoon at it.....

Hub. The King, I fear, is poison'd by a Monk. I left him almost speechlefs, and broke out T'acquaint you with this evil; that you might The better arm you to the fudden time, Than if you had at leifure known of this.

Faulc. How did he take it? Who did tafte to him?
Hub. A monk, I tell you; a refolved villain,
Whose bowels fuddenly burft out; the King
Yet fpeaks; and, peradventure, may recover.
Faule. Who didit thou leave to tend his Majefty?
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come
back,

And brought Prince Henry in their company;
At whofe request the King hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Majefty.

Faule. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heav'n!
And tempt us not to bear above our power.
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my pow'rs this night,
Paffing these flats, are taken by the tide;
Thefe 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 e'er I come.

Kka

[Exeunt.

SCENE

IT

SCENE IX.

Changes to the Orchard in Swinstead Abbey. Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot. Henry. TT is too late; the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain, Which some fuppofe the foul's frail dwelling-house, Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Fortel the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His highness yet doth fpeak, and holds belief,

That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poison, which affaileth him.

Henry. Let him be brought into the orchard here. Doth he ftill rage?

Pemb. He is more patient,

Than when you left him; even now he fung.
Henry. O vanity of fick nefs! fierce extreams
In their continuance will not feel themfelves.
Death having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them infenfible; his fiege is now,

Against the mind; the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies;

Which in their throng and prefs to that laft hold, Confound themfelves. 'Tis ftrange that death fhould fing.

I am the cygnet to this pale, faint fwain,
Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ pipe of frailty, fings

His foul and body to their lafting reft.

Sal. Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born

To fet a form upon that indigest,

Which he hath left fo fhapeless and fo rude.

4in their throng and prefs-] In their tumult and hurry of

reforting to the last tenable part.

King John brought in.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my foul hath elbow

room;

It would not out at windows, nor at doors.
There is fo hot a fummer in my bosom,
That all my bowels crumble up to duft.
I am a fcribled form drawn with a pen
Upon a parchment, and against this fire
Do I fhrink up.

Henry. How fares your Majefty?"

K. John. Poifon'd. Ill fare! dead, forfook, caft 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 courfe
Through my burn'd bofom: nor intreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And fo ungrateful, you deny me that.

Henry. Oh, that there were fome virtue in my tears, That might relieve you!

K. John. The falt of them is hot.

Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize
On unreprievable, condemned blood.

Faulc. Oh! I am fcalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to fee your Majefty.

K. John. Oh! coufin, thou art come to fet mine

eye.

The tackle of my heart is crackt and burnt;

And all the fhrowds, wherewith my life fhould fail,

Are

Are turn'd to one thread, one little hair;
My heart hath one poor ftring to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered;
And then all this thou feeft, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

Faulc. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,
Where, heav'n he knows, how we shall anfwer 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.

Sal. You breathe thefe dead news in as dead an ear: but now a King

My Liege! my Lord!

now thus.

Henry. Ev'n fo muft I run on, and ev'n fo ftop. What furety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a King, and now is clay?

Faule. Art thou gone fo? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge,

And then my foul fhall wait on thee to heav'n,
As it on earth hath been thy fervant still.

Now, now, you ftars, that move in your bright fpheres,

Where be your pow'rs? fhew now your mended faiths, And inftantly return with me again,

To push deftruction and perpetual fhame

Out of the weak door of our fainting land:
Strait let us feek, or ftrait we shall be fought;
The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It feems you know not then fo much as we:
The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,

Who half an hour fince came from the Dauphin;
And brings from him fuch offers of our peace,
As we with honour and refpect may take,
With purpose prefently to leave this war.

Faulc. He will the rather do it, when he fees
Ourfelves well finewed to our defence.

Sal.