Sal.
I did not think the King so stor'd with friends.

Pemb.
Up once again; put spirit in the French:
If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

Sal.
That mis-begotten devil, Faulconbridge,
In spight of spight, alone upholds the day.

Pemb.
They say, King John, sore sick, hath left the field. Enter Melun, wounded.

Melun.
Lead me to the Revolts of England here.

Sal.
When we were happy, we had other names.

Pemb.
It is the Count Melun.

Sal.
Wounded to death.

Melun.
Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;
Unthread the rude eye of Rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Seek out King John, and fall before his feet:
For if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompence the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads; thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at St. Edmonsbury;
Ev'n on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal.
May this be possible! may this be true!

Melun.
Have I not hideous death within my view?
Retaining but a quantity of life,
Which bleeds away, ev'n as a form of wax
Resolveth from its figure 'gainst the fire?
What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit?
Why should I then be false, since it is true,
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
I say again, if Lewis do win the day,
He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east.
But ev'n this night, whose black contagious breath
Already smoaks about the burning crest
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,
Ev'n this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,
Ev'n with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your King;
The love of him, and this respect besides,
(For that my grandsire was an Englishman,)
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace; and part this body and my soul,
With contemplation, and devout desires.

Sal.
We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds, we have o'er-look'd;
And calmly run on in obedience
Ev'n to our ocean, to our great King John.
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence,
For I do see the cruel pangs of death
(a) ^notePight in thine eye. Away, my friends; new flight;
And happy newness, that intends old right! [Exeunt, leading off Melun.

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