SCENE, an open Place in the Neighbourhood of
Swinftead Abbey.

Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert, feverally.
THO's there? fpeak, ho! fpeak quickly, or
I shoot.

Hub. WHO'S

Faulc. A friend. What art thou?
Hub. Of the part of England.
Faulc. And whither doft thou go?
Hub. What's that to thee?
Why may not I demand of thine affairs,
As well as thou of mine?

Faulc. Hubert, I think.

Hub. Thou haft a perfect thought:
I will upon all hazards well believe

Thou art my friend, that know'ft my tongue fo well:
Who art thou?

Faulc. Who thou wilt; and, if thou please,

Thou may'ft be-friend me so much, as to think,
I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub.Unkind remembrance! thou and eyelefs night (22)
Have done me shame; brave foldier, pardon me,
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should fcape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
Faulc.Come, come; fans compliment, what news abroad?
Hub. Why here walk I, in the black brow of night,
To find you out.

Faulc. Brief then: and what's the news?

Hub. O my fweet Sir, news fitting to the night; Black, fearful, comfortlefs, and horrible.

Faul. Shew me the very wound of this ill news, I am no woman, I'll not fwoon at it.

(22) Unkind Remembrance ; thou and endless Night

Have done me fhame :

-] Why, endless Night? Hubert means no more, than that the Dulness of his Recollection, and the Darkness of the Night, had disgraced him in his not knowing Faulconbridge by the Tone of his Voice. Our Author certainly wrote, eye-less. Mr. Warburton likewife concurr'd in Starting this Emendation.

Hub.

Hub. The King, I fear, is poifon'd by a Monk:
I left him almoft fpeechlefs, and broke out
T'acquaint you with this evil; that you might
The better arm you to the fudden time,
Than if you had at leifure known of this.

Faulc. How did he take it? who did tafte to him?
Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
Whofe bowels fuddenly burft out; the King
Yet fpeaks; and, peradventure, may recover.
Faulc. Who didit thou leave to tend his Majesty ?
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come
back,

And brought Prince Henry in their company;

At whofe requeft the King hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Majefty.

Faulc. With-hold thine indignation, mighty heav'n !
And tempt us not to bear above our power.
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my pow'rs this night,
Paffing these flats, are taken by the tide ;
Thefe Lincoln-washes have devoured them;
Myfelf, well mounted, hardly have escaped.
Away, before: conduct me to the King;
I doubt, he will be dead, or e'er I come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Orchard in Swinstead Abbey.

Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot.

"T is too late; the life of all his blood

Henry. IT

Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain, (Which, fome fuppofe, the foul's frail dwelling houfe,) Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,

Foretel the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief,

That, being brought into the open air,

It would allay the burning quality

Of that fell poifon, which affaileth him.

Henry Let him be brought into the orchard here; Doth he still rage?

Pemb

Pemb. He is more patient,

Than when you left him; even now he fung.
Henry. Oh vanity of ficknefs! fierce extreams
In their continuance will not feel themselves.
Death having prey'd upon the outward parts,
Leaves them; invifible his fiege is now,
Against the mind; the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of ftrange fantafies;

Which, in their throng, and prefs to that laft hold, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should

fing:

I am the cygnet to this pale, faint swan,

Who chaunts a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, fings

His foul and body to their lafting reft.

Sal. Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born To fet a form upon that indigeft,

Which he hath left so shapeless and fo rude.

King John brought in.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my foul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. There is fo hot a fummer in my bofom, That all my bowels crumble up to duft: I am a fcribbled form drawn with a pen Upon a parchment, and against this fire Do I fhrink up.

Henry. How fares your Majefty?

K. John. Poifon'd, ill fare! dead, forfook, caft off; And none of you will bid the winter come

To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their courfe
Through my burn'd bofom: nor intreat the north
To make his bleak winds kifs my parched lips,
And comfort me with cold. I ask not much,
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,
And fo ungrateful, you deny me that.

Henry. Oh, that there were fome virtue in my tears, That might relieve you!

K. John. The falt of them is hot.

Within me is a hell; and there the poison
Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize

On unreprievable, condemned blood.
Enter Faulconbridge.

Faule. Oh! I am fcalded with my violent motion,
And fpleen of speed to fee your Majefty.

K. John. Oh! coufin, thou art come to fet mine eye : The tackle of my heart is crackt and burnt ;

And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should fail,
Are turned to one thread, one little hair:
My heart hath one poor ftring to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered;
And then all this thou feeft, is but a clod,
And module of confounded royalty.

Faulc. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where, heav'n he knows, how we shall answer him. For, in a night, the best part of my power,

As I upon advantage did remove,

Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood.

[The King dies.
Sal. You breathe thefe dead news in as dead an ear:
My Liege! my Lord!-but now a King-now thus.
Henry. Ev'n fo muft I run on, and ev'n fo ftop.
What furety of the world, what hope, what stay,
When this was now a King, and now is clay?
Faulc. Art thou gone fo? I do but stay behind,
To do the office for thee of revenge :

And then my foul fhall wait on thee to heav'n,
As it on earth hath been thy fervant ftill.

Now, now, you stars, that move in your bright spheres,
Where be your pow'rs? fhew now your mended faiths,
And inftantly return with me again,

To push deftruction and perpetual shame

Out of the weak door of our fainting land:

Strait let us feek, or ftrait we shall be sought;

The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

Sal. It feems, you know not then so much as we : The Cardinal Pandulph is within at reft,

Who half an hour fince came from the Dauphins

And

And brings from him fuch offers of our peace,
As we with honour and respect may take,
With purpose presently to leave this war.

Faule. He will the rather do it, when he fees
Ourselves well finewed to our defence.

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
For many Carriages he hath dispatch'd
To the fea-fide, and put his Cause and Quarrel
To the difpofing of the Cardinal:

With whom your felf, my self, and other lords,
If
you think meet, this afternoon will poft

To confummate this business happily.

Faulc. Let it be fo; and you, my noble Prince,
With other Princes that may best be spar'd,
Shall wait upon your father's Funeral.

Henry. At Worcester muft his body be interr'd.
For fo he will'd it.

Faulc. Thither fhall it then.

And happily may your sweet self put on
The lineal State, and Glory of the Land!
To whom, with all Submiffion on my knee,
I do bequeath my faithful services,
And true fubjection everlastingly.

Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To reft without a Spot for evermore.

Henry. I have a kind foul, that would give you thanks,

And knows not how to do it, but with tears.

Faulc. Oh, let us pay the time but needful woe,

Since it hath been before-hand with our griefs.
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lye at the proud foot of a Conqueror,
But when it firft did help to wound it felf.
Now these her Princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them!-Nought shall make us rue,
If England to it felf do reft but true.

Exeunt omnes.

The End of the Third Volume.