A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day Lewis. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. Faulc. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. SCENE III. [Exeunt. A Field of Battle. Alarums. Enter King JOHN, and HUBERT. K. John. How goes the day with us? oh, tell me, Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty ? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Lies heavy on me; Oh, my heart is sick! Enter a Messenger. Mes. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon bridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field; And send him word by me, which way you go. 270 K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. Mes. Be of good comfort; for the great supply, That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now: The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. K. John. K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. 280 [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The French Camp. Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT. Sal. I did not think the king so stor❜d with friends. Pemb. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too. Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spight of spight, alone upholds the day. Pemb. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the field. Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers. 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. 290 Melun. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold? Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith. By By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn, 300 Sal. May this be possible! may this be true! Melun. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life; Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? What in the world should make me now deceive, Why should I then be false; since it is true 310 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 those eyes of your's But even this night-whose black contagious breath Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun- 320 Where Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 330 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 Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Even to our ocean, to our great king John. My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; 340 For I do see the cruel pangs of death Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight; And happy newness, that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off MELUN. SCENE V. A different 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 measur'd backward their own ground In faint retire; Oh, bravely came we off, When When with a volley of our needless shot, Mes. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ? 350 Mes. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, By his persuasion, are again fallen off: And your supplies, which you have wish'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, 360 The stumbling night did part our weary powers? Lewis. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to-night: The day shall not be up so soon as I, [Exeunt. SCENE |