SCENE II.

England.

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. Lew. Look, where the holy Legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of Heaven; And on our actions set the name of right, With holy breath.

Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH, attended.
Pan. Hail, noble Prince of France!
The next is this,-King John hath reconcil'd
Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and see of Rome.
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,

It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show.

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,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart:
And come you 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 slave ?

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,
Let me have audience: I am sent to speak :—
My holy lord of Milan, from the King
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.

Pan. The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

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,
From out the circle of his territories.
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,

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 drúms; 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 T'rumpets.--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 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?

sold;