This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, 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 strength, even 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 stable planks;

To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks;
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Thinking his 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 aiery3 towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.-
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-visag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.

Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in

peace;

We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent

Lew.

We will attend to neither

Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest, and our being here.

[out;

Phil. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry And so shall 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 shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand (Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,) Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day To feast upon whole thousands of the French. Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. Phil. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. A field of battle.

Alarums. Enter King JOHN and HUBERT. K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.

Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, FaulconDesires your majesty to leave the field; [bridge, And send him word by me, which way you go.

1

K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.

Mess. Be of good comfort; for the great supply,'

Supply is here, and in a subsequent passage in Scene V., used as a noun of multitude.

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.

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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. Another part of the same.

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and others.

Sal. 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 field.

Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers. Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here. Sal. When we were happy, we had other names. Pem. It is the count Melun.

Sal.

Wounded to death.

Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;" Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

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,
He3 means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury;

' Meaning, Faulconbridge.

Intimating that foul play has been used. 3 Meaning, Lewis.

Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life;

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire?'
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
Why should I then be false; since it is true
That I must die here, and live hence2 by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another daybreak in the east:

But even this night,-whose black contagious breath
Already smokes about the burning crest

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,-
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated3 treachery,
Even with a treacherous fine of all

your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him,-and this respect besides,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman,-
Awakes my conscience to confess 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 soul
With contemplation and devout desires.

Sal. We do believe thee,-And beshrew my soul But I do love the favour and the form

Of this most fair occasion, by the which

Alluding to the images made by witches.

hence, i. e. in the next world.

* The dauphin has rated your treachery, and set upon it a fine which your lives must pay.

N

We will untread the steps of damned flight,-
And, like a bated and retired flood,

Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd,
And calmly run on in obedience,

Even to our ocean, to our great king John.-
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;
For I do see the cruel pangs of death

Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight;

And happy newness,' that intends old right.

[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.

SCENE V.--The same.

The French camp.

Enter LEWIS and his train.

[ground,

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set; But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush, When the English measur'd backward their own In faint retire: O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tattering colours clearly up, Last in the field, and almost lords of it!

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?

Lew.

Here: What news?

Mess. The count Melun is slain; the English lords, By his persuasion, are again fallen off:

And your supplies, which you have wish'd so long, Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.

1

Happy change that purported the restoration of the old rightful government.

2

Tattering for tattered.

Shakspeare uses the present and

perfect participles very indiscriminately.