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The Entrance to Swinstead Abbey.
Enter FAULCONBRIDGE, meeting HUBERT. Hub. Who's there! speak, ho! speak quickly. Faul. A friend:-What are thou?
Hub. Of the part of England.
Faul. Hubert, I think.-What news abroad? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night. Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Faul. Show me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :
Faul. How did he take it? who did taste to him?
Faul. Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty? Hub. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back,
And brought Prince Henry in their company;
Faul. Withhold thine indignation, mighty Heaven,
The Orchard of Swinstead Abbey.
Enter ENGLISH GUARDS, with Torches, PRINCE
P. Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood
Enter SALISBURY and ENGLISH GENTLEMEN, with a Couch.
Sal. His highness yet doth speak: and holds belief,
That, being brought into the open air,
It would allay the burning quality
Of that fell poison which assaileth him.
Sal. He is more patient
Than when you left him; even now he sung.
Enter KING JOHN, attended by PEMBROKE and ENGLISH GENTLEMEN.
K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow
It would not out at windows, nor at doors.—
P. Hen. How fares your majesty?
K. John. Poison'd,-ill fare;-dead, forsook, cast
And none of you will bid the winter come,
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you!
K. John. The salt in them is hot.-
Enter FAULCONBRIDGE and HUBERT,
Faul. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye:
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Faul. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward;
[The KING dies.
Pem. You breathe these dead news in as dead an
My liege! my lord!-But now a king,-now thus! Faul. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, To do the office for thee of revenge;
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,
Ess. At Worcester must his body be interr'd;
Faul. Thither shall it then.
And happily may you, sweet prince, put on
And true subjection everlastingly.
Sal. And the like tender of our love we make,
To rest without a spot for evermore.
[All kneel. P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you
And knows not how to do it, but with tears.
Faul. O, let us pay the time but needful woe,
And we shall shock them: Nought shall make us rue,