Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? And brought prince Henry in their company; Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey. [Exeunt. Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT. P. Hen. It is too late; the life of all his blood Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain 2 Forces. Enter PEMBROKE. Pem. His Highness yet doth speak; and holds belief, That, being brought into the open air, Of that fell poison which assaileth him. P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here.Doth he still rage? Pem. [Exit BIGOT. sung. P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce extremes, In their continuance, will not feel themselves. Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds With many legions of strange fantasies; Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death should sing.- I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring in King JOHN in a Chair. K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. P. Hen. How fares your majesty? K. John. Poison'd,-ill-fare ;-dead, forsook, cast off: And none of you will bid the winter come, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course And so ingrateful, you deny me that. P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you! K. John. The salt in them is hot. Within me is a hell; and there the poison Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize Enter the Bastard. Bast. 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: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, 3 Narrow, avaricious. Are turned to one thread, one little hair: Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him: For, in a night, the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the washes, all unwarily, Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The King dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. My liege! my lord!-But now a king,-now thus. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay! Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths; And instantly return with me again, To push destruction, and perpetual shame, Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; Sal. It seems, you know not then so much as we: The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, 4 Model. Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin; Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, Bast. Let it be so:- -And you, my noble prince, P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; For so he will'd it. Bast. Thither shall it then. And happily may your sweet self put on To whom, with all submission, on my knee, And true subjection everlastingly. Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears. Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.This England never did, (nor never shall,) |