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The DAUPHIN'S Camp at St. Edmund's Bury.
Enter LEWIS, CHATILLON, a Parchment in his Hand, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, ESSEX, FRENCH HERALD, and GUARDS.
Lew. Let this be copied out, Chatillon, And keep it safe for our remembrance: Return the precedent to these lords again; That, having our fair order written down, Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
Sal. Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH, attended.
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
Lew. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back;
I am too high-born to be property'd:
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
[Trumpet sounds. What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ? Enter FAULCONBRIDGE and ENGLISH GENTLEMEN.
Faul. According to the fair-play of the world,
Pan. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
Faul. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The youth says well :-Now hear our English King:For thus his royalty doth speak in me ;
He is prepar'd, and reason too he should,
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—
You bloody Neros, ripping up the womb,
your dear mother England, blush for shame! Lew. We grant, thou canst out-scold us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler.
Pan. Give me leave to speak.
Faul. No, I will speak.
Lew. We will attend to neither :
Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war
Faul. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry
And so shall you, being beaten : Do but start
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder for at hand,
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? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so long, Lies heavy on me :-O, my heart is sick!
Enter ENGLISH HERALD.
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. [Exit 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.-Exeunt.
The French Camp.
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 field.
Enter CHATILLON wounded, and led by Two FRENCH
Cha. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. Wounded to death.
Cha. Fly, noble English; you are bought and sold;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Sal. May this be possible? may this be true?