« AnteriorContinuar »
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
[Exeunt, lead in off Melun.
The Same. The French Camp.
Enter Lewis, and his Train. Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loth to
But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush,
Enter a Messenger.
Here :- What news?
Dless. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
night : The day shall not be up so soon as I, To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Ereunt.
An open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinstead- Abbey.
Enter the Bastard, and HUBERT, meeiing.
Of the part of England. Bast. Whither dost thou go?
Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine ?
Bast. Hubert, I think.
Thou hast a perfect thought :
Bast. Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless
night, Have done me shame :-Brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should ’scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news
abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of
night, To find you out. Bast.
Brief, then ; and what's the news ? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it.
Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk :
Bast. 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.
Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
The Orchard of 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-house, Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, Fortell the ending of mortality,
Pemb. His highness yet doth speak; and holds be
lief, 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
[Exit Bigot. Pemb.
He is more patient Than when you left him; even now he sung.
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes,
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born