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To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—
A Field of Battle.
Drums, Trumpets, Shouts, &c.
Enter HUBERT, KING John, ENGLISH GENTLEMEN, and GUARDs.
K. John. How goes the day with us? O tell me, Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty 2 K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Lies heavy on me —O, my heart is sick |
Enter ENGLISH H ERALD.
E. Her. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field; And send him word by me, which way you go. K. John. Tell him toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. E. Her. 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. [Erit ENGLISH HERALDs. K. John. Ah 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. [Drums, Trumpets &c.—Ereunt.
Enter SALISBURY, PEMBRokE, and Essex.
Ess. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends.
Pem. Up once again ; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too.
Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.
Pem. They say, King John, sore sick, hath left the
Enter Ch ATILLoN wounded, and led by Two FRENch GENTLEMEN.
Cha. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Pem. It is Chatillon,
Sal. Wounded to death.
Cha. Fly, noble English; you are bought and
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
Sal. May this be possible may this be true
Cha. Have I not hideous death within my view What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit *
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
SCEN E V.
A different Part of the French Camp.
A Retreat sounded. Enter Lewis, FR ENCH GENTLEMEN, and GUARDs.
Lewis. The sun of Heaven, methought, was loath to set;
But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush,
Enter FREN cII HERALD.
F. Her. Where is my prince, the Dauphin Lew. Here:—What news F. Her. Chatillon 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, King John did fly, an hour or two before The stumbling night did part our weary powers F. Her. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care tonight: " The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Drums, Trumpets, &c.—Ereunt.