The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 253

Exeunt

SCENE 3.

England. The field of battle

Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT

KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.

HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty?

KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your Majesty to leave the field And send him word by me which way you go.

KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.

MESSENGER. 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.

KING JOHN. Ay 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 4.

England. Another part of the battlefield

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT

SALISBURY. I did not think the King so stor'd with friends.

PEMBROKE. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.

Enter MELUN, wounded

MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here.

SALISBURY. When we were happy we had other names.

PEMBROKE. It is the Count Melun.

SALISBURY. Wounded to death.

MELUN. Fly, n.o.ble 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 moe with me, Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; Even on that altar where we swore to you Dear amity and everlasting love.

SALISBURY. May this be possible? May this be true?

MELUN. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quant.i.ty 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, 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?

I say again, if Lewis do will the day, He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east; But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives.

If Lewis by your a.s.sistance win the day.

Commend me to one Hubert, with your King; The love of him-and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman- Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence From forth the noise and rumour of the field, Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires.

SALISBURY. 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 We will untread the steps of d.a.m.ned flight, And like a bated and retired flood, Leaving our rankness and irregular course, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, And calmly run on in obedience Even to our ocean, to great King John.

My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; 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 5.

England. The French camp

Enter LEWIS and his train

LEWIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, When English measure backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such b.l.o.o.d.y toil, we bid good night; And wound our tott'ring colours clearly up, Last in the field and almost lords of it!

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?

LEWIS. Here; what news?

MESSENGER. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords By his persuasion are again fall'n off, And your supply, 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 King John did fly an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary pow'rs?

MESSENGER. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

LEWIS. 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 6.

An open place wear Swinstead Abbey

Enter the b.a.s.t.a.r.d and HUBERT, severally

HUBERT. Who's there? Speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. A friend. What art thou?

HUBERT. Of the part of England.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Whither dost thou go?

HUBERT. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine?

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Hubert, I think.

HUBERT. 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?

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets.

HUBERT. 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.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad?