The King doth fmile at; and is well-prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, thefe pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.

That hand which had the ftrength, ev'n at your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
To crouch in litter of your ftable-planks,

To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chefts and trunks ;
To herd with fwine; to feek fweet fafety out,
In vaults and prifons; and to thrill, and fhake,
Ev'n at the crying of our nation's crow,
Thinking his voice an armed English-man;
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No; know, the gallant Monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his airy tow'rs,
To foufe annoyance that comes near his nest.
And you degen'rate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neros', ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blufh for shame.
For your own Ladies, and pale-vifag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.

Lewis. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peaces
We grant, thou canst out-fcold us; fare thee well:
We hold our time too precious to be spent

With fuch a babler.

Pand. Give me leave to speak.

Faule. No, I will speak.

Lewis. We will attend to neither:

Strike up

the drums, and let the tongue of war

Plead for our int'reft. and our being here.

Faulc. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out And fo fhall you, being beaten; do but start

An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And ev'n at hand a drum is ready brac'd,

That fhall revei b'rate all as loud as thine.

Sound

For at hand

Sound but another, and another fhall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder.
(Not trufting to this halting Legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for fport, than need)
Is warlike John; and in his forehead fits
A bare-ribb'd death; whofe office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.
Lewis. Strike up your drums, to find this danger out,
Faulc. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.

[Exeunt SCENE changes to a Field of Battle.

K.Jn.

Alarms. Enter King John, and Hubert.

Ow goes the day with us? oh, tell me, Hubert.

"H Hub. Badly, I fear; how fares your Majefty?

K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me fo long, Lies heavy on me: oh, my heart is fick !

Enter a Messenger.

Mef. My Lord, your valiant kinfman, Faulconbridge, Defires your Majefty to leave the field;

And fend him word by me which way you go.

K. Joh. Tell him, tow'rd Swinftead, to the abbey there. Mef. Be of good comfort: for the great fupply, That was expected by the Dauphin here, Are wreck'd three nights ago on Godwin-fands. This news was brought to Richard but ev'n now; The French fight coldly, and retire themfelves. K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up, And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on tow'rd Swinftead; to my litter ftrait; Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint.

Sal. I

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the French Camp.
Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Did not think the King fo ftor'd with friends. Pemb. Up once again; put spirit in the French : If they mifcarry, we mifcarry too,

Sah

Sal. That mif-begotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of fpite, alone upholds the day.

Pemb. They fay, King John, fore fick, hath left the field.
Enter Melun, wounded.

Melun. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. When we were happy, we Ład other names.
Pemb. It is the Count Melun.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Melun. Fly, noble English, you are bought and fold; Untread the rude way of rebellion (29),

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 recompenfe the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads j thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at St. Edmundbury;

Ev'n on that altar, where we fwore to you

(29) Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,] Tho' all the copies concur in this reading, how poor is the metaphor, of untbreading the eye of a needle? And, befides, as there is no mention made of a needle, how remote and obfcure is the allufion without it? The text, as I have reftor'd it, is eafy and natural; and it is the mode of exprefhion, which our Author is every where fond of, to tread and untread, the way, path, feps, &c. So Salisbury fays afterwards in this scene; We will untread the feps of damned flight.

Henry VIII.

Richard II.

Say, Wolfey, that once trod the ways of glory.

But tread the ftranger parbs of banishment.. Richard III.

Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er returns Merchant of Venice.

Hamlet.

Where is the horse, that doth untread again
His tedious meafure with unbated fire,
That he did pace them first?

Whilft, like a puft and careless libertine,
Himself the primrofe path of dalliance treads.

And in his poem, call'd, Venus and Adonis ;

She treads the paths, that the untreads again.

Dear

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
Refolveth from its figure 'gainft the fire?

What in the world fhould make me now deceive,
Since I muft lofe the ufe of all deccit?

Why fhould I then be falfe, 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 those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the caft:

But ev'n this night, whofe black contagious breath
Already fmoaks about the burning creft

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied fun,
Ev'n this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lervis 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 noise and rumour of the field ;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
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 steps of damned flight;

And, like a bated and retired flood,

Leaving our rankness and irregular courfe,

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 shall give thee help to bear thee hence,

For

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.

Lew.

"T

Enter Lewis, and his Train.

HE fun of heav'n, methought, was loth to fet, But ftaid, and made the western welkin blush; When th' English meafur'd backward their own ground In faint retire: oh, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After fuch bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up, Laft in the field, and almost Lords of it!

Enter a Messenger.

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

Mef. The Count Melun is flain; the English Lords
By his perfuafion are again fall'n off;

And your fupply, which you have wish'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. Whoever fpoke it, it is true, my Lord.

Lew. Well; keep good quarter,and good care to-night; : The day fhall not be up fo foon as I,

To

try the fair adventure of to-morrow..

[Exeunt..

SCENE,