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Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him :
For, in a night, the best part of any power,
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,

480 Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies,

Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an

ear.

My licgel my lord |--But now a king-now thus..

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!

Faulc. 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.-
Now, now, you stars, that move in your right

spheres,
Where be your powers ? Shew now your mended

faiths ;
And instantly return with me again,
To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
Out of the weak door of our fainting land :
Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be soughts
The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It seems you know not then so much as we :
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,

499
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin;
And brings from him such offers of our peace
As we with honour and respect may take,
With purpose presently to leave this war.

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510

Faule. He will the rather do it, when he sees
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence.

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
To the disposing of the cardinal:
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords,
If you think meet, this afternoon will post
To consummate this business happily.

Fault. Let it be so :-And you, my noble prince,
With other princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; For so he will'd it.

Faulc. Thither shall it then. And happily may your sweet self put on *The lineal state and glory of the land I

520 To whom, with all submission, on my knee, I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly.

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you

thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears.

Faulc. Oh, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been before hand with our griefs. This England never did (nor never shall), 530 Lye at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself.

Now

Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us

rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.

[Exeunt omnes.

THE END.

BY

SAM. JOHNSON & GEO. STEEVENS,

A N D

THE VARIOUS COMMENTATORS,

UPON

KING JOHN,

WRITTEN BY

WILL, SHAKSPERE.

-SIC ITUR AD ASTRA.

VIRG.

LONDON:

Printed for, and under the Direction of, John Bell, British-Library, STRAND, Bookseller to His Royal Highness the PRINCE OF WALES,

M DCC LXXXVII,

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