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Another Part of the same.
Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Others.
Sal. I did not think the king so stor❜d with friends.
Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
Pem. They say, king John, sore sick, hath left
Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers. Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy we had other names. Pem. It is the count Melun.
Wounded to death.
Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Sal. May this be possible? may this be true?
He means-] The Frenchman, i, e. Lewis, means, &c.
Retaining but a quantity of life;
Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
But even this night,-whose black contagious breath
Already smokes about the burning crest
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew
even as a form of wax
Resolveth, &c.] This is said in allusion to the images made by witches. Holinshed observes, that it was alledged against dame Eleanor Cobham and her confederates, "that they had devised an image of wax, representing the king, which, by their sorcerie, by little and little consumed, intending thereby, in conclusion, to waste and destroy the king's person.'
rated treachery,] i. e. The Dauphin has rated your treachery, and set upon it a fine, which your lives must pay.
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
Even to our ocean, to our great king John.——
Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight;
And happy newness," that intends old right.
[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.
Enter LEWIS and his Train.
Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set;
But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measur'd backward their own ground,
In faint retire: O, bravely came we off,
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Here: What news?
happy newness, &c.] Happy innovation, that purposed
the restoration of the ancient rightful government.
Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords,
By his persuasion, are again fallen off:
And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.
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,
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.
An open Place in the Neighbourhood of SwinsteadAbbey.
Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, meeting.
Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly,
or I shoot.
Bast. A friend:-What art thou?
Of the part of England.
Bast. Whither dost thou go?
Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I de
Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?
Bast. Hubert, I think.
Thou hast a perfect thought:
I will, upon all hazards, well believe
3 keep good quarter,] i. e. keep in your allotted posts.
Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well:
Who thou wilt: an if thou please,
Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night,
Have done me shame:-Brave soldier, pardon me,
Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night,
To find you out.
Brief, then; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Bast. Show 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.
Bast. 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.
4 The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :] Not one of the historians who wrote within sixty years after the death of King John, mentions this very improbable story. The tale is, that a monk, to revenge himself on the king for a saying at which he took offence, poisoned a cup of ale, and having brought it to his majesty, drank some of it himself, to induce the king to taste it, and soon afterwards expired. Thomas Wykes is the first, who relates it in his Chronicle, as a report. According to the best accounts, John died at Newark, of a fever.