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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 hence by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of

Behold another day break 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 2 of rated treachery,
Even with a treacherous a fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your aslistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him,—and this respect besides,
For that my grandfire was an Englishman,-
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, 1 pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts

part this body and my

With contemplation and devout desires.
Sal. We do believe thee,–And beshrew my

But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned fight ;
And, like a bated and retired flood,

P: 457. Cland,

y a form of wax]-an image made by witches.

MUCH ADO ABOUT Nothing, Vol. I, 2 of rated treacbery,]-at which treason is rated,

fine]-conclusion, termination. VOL. III

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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.

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A different Part of the French Camp.

Enter Lewis, and his train.
Lewis. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to set;
But staid, and made the western welkin blush,
When the English mealur'd backward their own ground
In faint retire : Oh, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After such bloody toil, we bid good night ;
And wound our d tatter'd colours * clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it!-

Enter a Messenger.
Mes: Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Lewis. Here :- What news?

Mes. The count Melun is Nain; the English lords,
By his persuasion, are again fallen off:
And your * fupplies, which you have wilh'd so long, ,
Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin fands,

Right}—Plainly, strongly indicated, full in view there. . And bappy newnejs, that intends old rigbt.}-Change of mind, in. tent on returning to ancient duty and allegiance.

* supply.

d tort'ring.

e shearly.

Lewis. Ah foul shrewd news !-Belhrew 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 ?

Mej. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Lewis. 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. [Exeunt.

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An open Place in the Neigbbourbood of Swinstead Abbey.

Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert, severally.
Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly, oi I

Faulc. A friend :--What art thou?
Hub. Of the part of England.
Faulc. Whether dost thou go?

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?

Faulc. Hubert, I think.

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought : I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well : Who art thou?

Faulc. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets,

quarter, ]-order.

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Hub. 5 Unkind remembrance ! thou, and eyeless night,
Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon me,
That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should 'Icape the true acquaintance of mine ear.
Faulo. Come, come ; fans compliment, what news

Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night,
To find you out.

Faulc. Brief, then ; and what's the news ?

Hub. O my sweet fir, news fitted to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Faulc. Shew me the very wound of this ill news ;
I am no woman, l'll not fwoon at it.

Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechless, and broke out
To acquaint you with this evil; that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time,
Than if you had at leisure known of this.
Faulc. How did he take it? who did taste to him?

Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover. .

Faulc. Who 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 ?
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them ;
And they are all about his majesty.

Faulc. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power!
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,
Palling thele flats, are taken by the tide,


& Unkind remembrance !]-Not to remember thee.
Than bad you at less leijure-when you were less prepared.


These Lincoln washes have devoured them;
Myself, well mounted, hardly have escap’d.
Away, before ! conduct me to the king ;
I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come.


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Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and Bigot.
Hen. It is too late ; the life of all his blood
Is touch'd' corruptibly; and his pure

(Which some suppose the foul's frail dwelling-house)
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretell the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke.

Pemb. 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 that affaileth him.

Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.
Doth he still rage ?

Pemb. He is more patient
Than when you left him; even now he sung.

Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes,
In their continuance, will not feel themselves,
Death, having prey'd upon the outward

Leaves them * insensible : his fiege is now,
Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds
With many legions of strange fantasies ;


k invisille.

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