I am too high-born to be propertied, Or useful serving-man, and instrument, To any sovereign state throughout the world. Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? borne, What men provided, what munition sent, To underprop this action? is't not I, That undergo this charge? who else but I, Pand. You look but on the outside of this work. Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return [Trumpet sounds. What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? Enter the Bastard, attended. Bast. According to the fair play of the world, I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, Bast. 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: This apish and unmannerly approach, This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel, This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, The king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories. That hand, which had the strength, even at your door, To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch; To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks; Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids, Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination. Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; We hold our time too precious to be spent Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest, and our being here. Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, out. Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt. SCENE III. THE SAME. A FIELD OF BATTLE. Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert. 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 a Messenger. Mess. 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. Mess. 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. 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. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. THE SAME. ANOTHER PART OF THE SAME. Enter Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and Others. Sal. 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 Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers. |