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 recompence the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads; thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the Altar at St. Edmondsbury;

Ev'n on that Altar, where we swore 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

Resolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire?

What in the world fhould make me now deceive,
Since I muft lofe the use of all deceit?'
Why should I then be false, 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 thofe eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the Eaft:

But ev❜n this night, whofe black contagious breath
Already fmoaks about the burning Crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied Sun,
Ev'n this ill night, your Breathing fhall expire;
Paying the fine of 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;
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

Hamlet.

Whilft, like a puft and careless Libertine,

Himfelf the Primrose Path of Dalliance treads.

And in his Poem, call'd, Venus and Adonis ;
She treads the Paths, that She untreads again,

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

Of this moft fair occafion, by the which
We will untread the fteps of damned flight;
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

Ev'n to our Ocean, to our great King John.

My arm fhall give thee help to bear thee hence,
For I do fee the cruel pangs of death

Right in thine eye. Away, my friends; new Flight;
And happy Newnefs, that intends old Right!

[Exeunt, leading off Melun.

SCENE changes to a different part of the French Camp.

Enter Lewis, and his Train.

Lewis. THE Sun of heav'n, methought, was loth to fet,

But ftaid, and made the western welkin blush;
When th' English measur'd backward their own ground
In faint retire: oh, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needlefs fhot,
After fuch bloody toil, we bid good night;
And wound our tatter'd Colours clearly up,
Laft in the field, and almoft lords of it!

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Where is my Prince, the Dauphin?
Lewis. Here; what news?

Mef. The Count Melun is flain; the English lords

By his perfwafion are again fall'n off;

And your Supply, which you have wifh'd fo long,
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 faid,
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 shall not be up fo foon as I,

To try the fair adventure of to morrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE, an open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey.

Hub.

Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert, severally.

HO's there? speak, ho! fpeak quickly, or

WHO

I shoot.

Faulc. A friend. What art thou?
Hub Of the Part of England.
Faulc. 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.UnkindRemembrance! thou and eyelefs night (30) Have done me fhame; brave foldier, pardon me,

(30) Unkind Remembrance; thou and endless Night

Have done me fhame: -] Why, endless Night? Hubert means no more, than that the Dulnefs of his Recollection, and the Darkness of the Night, had difgraced him in his not knowing Faulconbridge by the Tone of his Voice. Our Author certainly wrote, eye-lefs. Mr. Warburton likewife concurr'd in ftarting this Emendation.

That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should fcape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

Faulc. Come, come; fans complement, 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 fitting 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 fwoon at it.

Hub. The King, I fear, is poifon'd by a Monk; I left him almoft fpeechlefs, 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 burst out; the King
Yet fpeaks; and, peradventure, may recover.
Faulc. Who didft 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 requeft the King hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Majefty.

Faulc. 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;
My felf, well mounted, hardly have escaped.
Away, before: conduct me to the King;
I doubt, he will be dead, or e'er I come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE 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, fome suppose, the soul's frail dwelling house,) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Foretel the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief, That, being brought into the open air,

It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poifon, which affaileth him.

Henry. 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 fung.
Henry. Oh vanity of fickness! fierce extreams
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them; invifible his fiege is now,

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

Which, in their Throng, and Prefs to that last Hold, Confound themselves. 'Tis ftrange, that death should fing:

I am the Cygnet to this pale, faint Swan,
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 Indigeft,

Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

King John brought in.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my foul hath elbow-room;

It would not out at windows, nor at doors.

There