And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. [Trumpet sounds. What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? Enter the Bastard, attended. Bast. According to the fair play of the world, I come to learn how you have dealt for him; Pand. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite, Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breathed, That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; To crouch in litter of your stable planks; To lie, like pawns, locked up in chests and trunks; To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.- To fierce and bloody inclination. Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace. We grant, thou canst outscold us; fare thee well; We hold our time too precious to be spent With such a brabbler. Pand. Give me leave to speak. Bast. No, I will speak. Lew. We will attend to neither. Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest, and our being here. Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start An echo with the clamor of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready braced, K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hub. Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick! Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field; And send him word by me, which way you go. K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply, That was expected by the dauphin here, Are wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands. This news was brought to Richard but even now. The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. 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. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the same. Enter SALISBURY, Pembroke, BIGOT, and others. Sal. I did not think the king so stored with friends. Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too. Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left the field. Enter MELUN, wounded, and led by Soldiers. Sal. Wounded to death. Mel. Fly, noble English; you are bought and sold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, And welcome home again discarded faith. Seek out king John, and fall before his feet For, if the French be lords of this loud day, 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 of Saint Edmund'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? Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit ? Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here, and live hence by truth? He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours But even this night,-whose black, contagious breath Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,- Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, Sal. We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul Of this most fair occasion, by the which Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Even to our ocean, to our great king John.- Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight! And hapyy newness, that intends old right. [Exeunt, leading off MELUN. SCENE V. The same. The French Camp. Enter LEWIS and his Train. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set; But staid, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measured backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night; Mess. Where is my prince, the dauphin? Here:-What news? Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, By his persuasion, are again fallen off; And your supply, which you have wished so long, Lew. 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? Lew. 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 Neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting. Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly or I shoot. Bast. A friend.-What art thou? Hub. Bast. Whither dost thou go? Of the part of England. Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Bast. 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? Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Hub. Unkind remembrance! 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. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out. |