To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
To crouch in litter of your stable 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 shake,
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 Aiery tow'rs,
To foufe annoiance that comes near his neft.
And you degen'rate, you ingrate Revolts,
You bloody Nero's, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for fhame.
For your own ladies, and pale-vifag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their Thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needles to Lances, and their gentle Hearts
To fierce and bloody Inclination.

Lewis. There end thy Brave, and turn thy face in peace;

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.

Faulc. 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 shall reverb'rate all as loud as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,

And

And mock the deep mouth'd thunder. For at hand
(Not trufting to this halting Legate here;
Whom he hath us'd rather for fport, than need)
Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits
A bare-ribb'd death: whofe office is this day
To feaft upon whole thousands of the French.
Lewis. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Faulc. And thou fhalt find it, Dauphin, do not
[Exeunt.

doubt.

SCENE V.

Changes to a Field of Battle.

Alarms. Enter King John and Hubert.

K. John. HOW goes the day with us? oh, tell me,

Hubert.

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 Meffenger.

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. John. Tell him, tow'rd Swinftead, to the Abbey there.

Mef. Be of good Comfort: for the great Supply, That was expected by the Dauphin here,

Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin fands.
This news was brought to Richard but ev'n 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 tow'rd Swinftead; to my Litter ftrait;
Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt

SCENE

Sal.

L

Changes to the French Camp.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

ID

Did not think the King fo ftor'd with friends.
Pemb. Up once again; put fpirit in the
French:

If they miscarry, we mifcarry too.

Sal. That mil-begotten devil, Faulconbridge,
In fpight of spight, 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 had other names.
Pemb. It is the Count Melun.

Sal. Wounded to death.

Melun, Fly noble English, you are bought and fold;
2 Unthread the rude eye of Rebellion,
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 recompenfe the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads; thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,

Unthread the rude Eye of Rebellion.] Tho' all the Copies concur in this Reading, how poor is the Metaphor of unthreading 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 reflor'd it, is easy and na tural; and it is the Mode of Expreffion, which our Author is every where fond of, to tread and untread, the Way, Path, Steps, &c. THEOBALD. The metaphor is certainly harfh, but I do not think the paffage corrupted.

Upon

Upon the altar at St. Edmondsbury;

Ev'n on that altar, where we fwore 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
Refolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire?

What in the world fhould make me now deceive,

Since I muft lofe the ufe of all deceit ?
Why should 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 east,

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 fhall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your affiflance 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
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

3 Rated treachery,] It were eafy to change rated to hated for an eafier meaning, but rated fuits better with fine. The Dauphin

has rated you treachery, and fet upon it a fine which your lives must pay.

Of

Of this most fair occafion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rank nefs 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

Pight in thine eye. Away, my friends; new flight;
And happy newness, that intends old right?

[Exeunt, leading off Melun.

Changes to a different part of the French Camp:

Lewis.

Enter Lewis, and his Train.

HE fun of heav'n, methought, was loth
to fet,

TH

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 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 wifh'd fo long,

1-bappy newness, &c.] Hap. py innovation, that purpofed the reftoration of the ancient rightVOL. III.

ful government.

2 For tatter'd, the folio reads

tottering.

Kk

Are