40 To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips 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. 45 Within me is a hell; and there the poison Is as a fiend confined to tyrannize On unreprieveable condemned blood. Bast. Enter the BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion And spleen of speed to see your majesty! 50 K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye. The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd, My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty. 55 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 61 Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The king dies. |