To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—
And you degen'rate, you ingrate, revolts,

You bloody Neros, ripping up the womb,

Of

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
Plead for our interest, and our being here.

Faul. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry

out:

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 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.
Faul. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.
[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.-Exeunt.

SCENE III.

England.

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.

SCENE IV.

England.

The French Camp.

Alarums.

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
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 sold;

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

And welcome home again discarded faith.
Seck out King John, and fall before his feet;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads.

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,
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east:
But even this night,

Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire.--
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
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,

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!

[Drums and Trumpets, &c.-Exeunt, leading off CHATILLON.

SCENE V.

England.

A different Part of the French Camp.

A Retreat sounded.

Enter LEWIS, FRENCH GENTLEMEN, and GUARDS.

Lewis. 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 ground,

In faint retire: O, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil, we bade good night;
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it!-

Enter FRENCH 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 to-
night:

The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.

[Drums, Trumpets, &c.-Exeunt.