Away before conduct me to the king; : I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. [Exeunt. SCENE VII. The orchard in Swinstead Abbey. 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, Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- Doth by the idle comments that it makes Enter PEMBROKE. Pem. 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. P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here. Doth he still rage? [Exit Bigot. He is more patient Pem. 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 invisible, and his siege is now Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds 2. corruptibly, so as to corrupt. ib. his pure brain, his otherwise clear mind. 4. idle, wandering. IO 16. Leaves them invisible, becomes imperceptible outwardly. 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, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, 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. Enter Attendants, and BIGOT, carrying KING 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? And none of you will bid the winter come Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course much, I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait VOL. VI 26. indigest, shapeless, confused mass. 113 Ι 20 30 40 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 confined to tyrannize On unreprievable condemned blood. Enter the BAastard. 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 module of confounded royalty. 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. stop. 58. module.. the mould or form of annihilated royalty. 60. answer, confront, meet. 50 60 62. upon advantage, as a favourable opportunity occurred. 65. dead news, news of death. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind 70 To do the office for thee of revenge, 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 Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; With whom yourself, myself and other lords, If you think meet, this afternoon will post To consummate this business happily. Bast. Let it be so: and you, my noble prince With other princes that may best be spared, 82. Cardinal Pandulph. The historic cardinal who effected the negotiations was no longer 80 90 Pandulph, but Gualo (Hol. iii. 192). 97. princes, lords. Shall wait upon your father's funeral. P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be in terr'd; For so he will'd it. Bast. Thither shall it then : 100 And happily may your sweet self put on 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, rue, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. 110 104. bequeath, transfer. |