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Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
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Scene 6 SCENE, an open Place in the Neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey. Enter Faulconbridge, and Hubert, severally.

Hub.
Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot.

Faulc.
A friend. What art thou?

Hub.
Of the Part of England.

Faulc.
And whither dost thou go?

Hub.
What's that to thee?
Why may not I demand of thine affairs,
As well as thou of mine?

Faulc.
Hubert, I think.

Hub.
Thou hast a perfect thought:
I will upon all hazards well believe
Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well:
Who art thou?

Faulc.
Who thou wilt; and, if thou please,
Thou may'st be-friend me so much, as to think,
I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub.
Unkind Remembrance! thou and eyeless night(30) note

Have done me shame; brave soldier, pardon me,

-- 248 --


That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,
Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

Faulc.
Come, come; sans complement, what news abroad?

Hub.
Why here walk I, in the black brow of night,
To find you out.

Faulc.
Brief then: and what's the news?

Hub.
O my sweet Sir, news fitting to the night;
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Faulc.
Shew 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:
I left him almost speechless, and broke out
T' acquaint you with this Evil; that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time,
Than if you had at leisure known of this.

Faulc.
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.

Faulc.
Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty?

Hub.
Why, know you not? the Lords are all come back,
And brought Prince Henry in their company;
At whose request the King hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his Majesty.

Faulc.
With-hold thine indignation, mighty heav'n!
And tempt us not to bear above our power.
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my Pow'rs this night,
Passing these flats, are taken by the tide;
These Lincoln-washes have devoured them;
My self, well mounted, hardly have escaped.
Away, before: conduct me to the King;
I doubt, he will be dead, or e'er I come.
[Exeunt.

-- 249 --

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Lewis Theobald [1733], The works of Shakespeare: in seven volumes. Collated with the Oldest Copies, and Corrected; With notes, Explanatory and Critical; By Mr. Theobald (Printed for A. Bettesworth and C. Hitch [and] J. Tonson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11201].
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