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And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that fame weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with intereft to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come ye now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,

After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back,

Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's flave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition fent,

To underprop this action? is't not I,

That undergo this charge? who else but I,
And fuch as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war ?
Have I not heard thefe iflanders fhout out,
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this eafy match play'd for a crown?
And fhall I now give o'er the yielded fet?
No, on my foul, it never fhall be faid.

m

Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lewis. Outfide, or infide, I will not return
'Till my attempt fo much be glorify'd
As to my ample hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And cull'd these fiery fpirits from the world,
To out-look conqueft, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.—

[Trumpet founds.

What lufty trumpet thus doth fummon us?

1 bank'd]-approach'd, fail'd by the banks of.

the yielded jet-the prize I've gain'd. Te out-look]-to feck out.

Enter

Enter Faulconbridge, attended.

Faulç. According to the fair-play of the world,
Let me have audience; I am fent to fpeak
My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you dealt for him ;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-oppofite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties;
He flatly fays, he'll not lay down his arms.
Faulc. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd,
The youth fays well :-Now hear our Englifh king;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepar'd; and reason too, he should:
This apifh and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
•This unhair'd fawcinefs, and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.

That hand, which had the ftrength, even at your door,

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To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch';

To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells ;

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To crouch in litter of your ftable planks;

To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chefts and trunks;
To hug with swine; to feek sweet safety out

In vaults and prifons; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,

• This unbair'd faweinefs,]-This infult offer'd by a beardless youthunheard. P take the batch ;]-fkulk behind it.

flable planks ;]-stalls.

HENRY VI. Part I.

the crying of your nation's crow,]—the found of K. John's name, that feare-crow of the French, as Talbot is ftiled. A&I. S. 4.

"The cry of Talbot ferves me for a sword."

A& II. S. 1. Sol.

Thinking

Thinking this voice an armed Englishman ;-
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 towers,

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To foufe annoyance that comes near his neft.-
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame:
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 canft out-fcold us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent

With fuch a " brabler.

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 intereft, and our being here.

Faulc. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will
And fo fhall you, being beaten : Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,.
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another fhall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,

cry out;

And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand

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(Not trusting 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 our drums, to find this danger out. Faulc. And thou fhalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Field of Battle.

Alarums. Enter King John, and Hubert.

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

Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty?

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 kinsman, Faulconbridge, Defires your majefty to leave the field;

And fend him word by me, which way you go.

K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, 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 Goodwin fands.
This news was brought to Richard but even now:
The French fight coldly, and retire themselver.

K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.-
Set on towards Swinftead: to my litter ftraight;
Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

SCENE IV.

The French Camp.

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, and Bigot.

Sal. I did not think the king sq ftor'd with friends. Pemb. Up once again; put fpirit in the French; If they miscarry, we mifcarry too.

Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In fpight of spight, alone upholds the day.

W

Pemb. They fay, king John, fore fick, hath left the field.
Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers.

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.

Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and fold;

* 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 recompence the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at faint Edmund's-bury;
Even on that altar, where we swore 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;

" Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,]-Clear it from all film, that it may fee the path back to duty;-lay afide the rude work.

x The Dauphin.

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