He means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads : thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at St. Edmond's-bury;
Even on that altar where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be possible ! may this be true !

Melun. Have I not hideous death within my vicw ? Retaining but a quantity of life; Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth from its figure’gainst the fire ? What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit? Why ihould I then be false, since it is true That I must die here, and live hence by truth? I say again, if Lewis do win the day, He is forsworn, if e'er thofe eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east. But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already sinoaks about the burning creft Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire; Paying the fine of 3 rated treachery, Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, If Lewis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; The love of him, and this respect besides, (For that my grandfire was an Englihman) Awakes my conscience to confefs all this. In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field; Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace; and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout defires.

3

rated treachery, ] It were easy to change rated to kated for an easier meaning, but rated suits better with fine. The dauphin has rated your treachery, and fet upon it a fine which your lives must pay. JOHNSON.

Sal.

G A

Sal. We do believe thee; and beshrew my soul, But I do love the favour and the form Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will'untread the steps of damned fight; And, like a bated and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'er-look'd ; And calmly run on in obedience, Even to our ocean, to our great king John.— My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye 4. Away, my friends! new flight; And 5 happy newness that intends old right.

[Exeunt, leading off Melun,

'S CE NE V.

Changes to a diferent part of the French camp.

Enter Lewis and his train.

Lewis. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to

set;

But staid, and made the western welkin blush,
When the English measurd backward their own ground
In faint rețire: oh, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil, we bid good night;
And wound our . tatter'd colours clearly up, ,
Last in the field, and almost ļords of it!

Enter

4

thine eye,

Right in thine eye.-] This is the old reading. Right fignifies immediate. It is now obsolete. Some of the modern editors read, pight, i. e. pitched as a tent is ; others, fight in

STEEVENS. s-bappy newness, &c.] Happy innovation, that purposed the reloration of the ancient rightful government. Johnson.

6-tatter'd-] For latter'd, the folio reads tottering. JOHNS.

It is remarkable through such old copies of our author as I have hitherto seen, that wherever the modern edicors read talter'd, the old editions give us totter'd in its room. Perhaps

the

Enter a messenger.
Mes. Where is my prince, the dauphin ?
Lewis. Here. What news ?

Mes. The count Melun is Nain ; the English lords
By his persuasion are again fallen of :
And your supplies, which you have wilh'd so long,
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
Lewis. Ah foul, shrewd, news! Beshrew thy very

heart,
I did not think to be so sad to-night,
As this hath made me. Who was he that said,
King John did fly an hour or two before
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?
Mes. Who ever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lewis. Well; keep good quarter, and good care

to-night:
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI.
An open place in the neighbourbood of Swinstead-abbey.

Enter Faulconbridge and Hubert severally.
Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly, or

I shoot.
Faulc. A friend. What art thou?
Hub. Of the part of England.
Faulc. And whither dost thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee?
Why may not I demand of thine affairs,
As well as thou of mine?

the present broad pronunciation, almost particular to the Scots,
was at that time common to both nations.
So in The Downfall of Rob. Earl of Huntington, 1601.

“ I will not bid my enfign-bearer wave
My totter'd colours in this worthlefs air.”

STEEVENS.

Faulo

Faulo. Hubert, I think.

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought. I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well, Who art thou ?

Faulc. Who thou wilt; an, if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think, I come one way of the Plantagenets. Hub. Unkind remembrance ! 7 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. 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 sweet Sir, news fitted to the night; Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Faulc. Shew 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.

Faulc. 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.

Faulc. 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 ;

7

thou and endless night] We hould read, eyeless. So Pindar calls the noon, the eye of night. WARBURTON.

At whose request the king hath pardon’d them,
And they are all about his majesty.

Faulc. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power!
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my powers this night,
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide;
These Lincoln washes have devour'd them;
Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd.
Away, before! Conduct me to the king;
I doubt, he will be dead, or e’er I come. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.
Changes to the orchard in Swinstead-abbey.

Enter prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot.
Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure

brain (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretell the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His highness yet doth speak; and holds be

lief,
That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which asiàileth him.

Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.
Doth he still rage?

Pemb. He is more patient
Than when you left him ; even now he sung.

Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death, having prey'd 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 ;