K. John.
They burn in indignation; I repent
There is no sure foundation set on blood;
No certain life atchiev'd by others death— [Aside.
A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood [To the Mes.
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm;
Pour down thy weather: how goes all in France?

Mes.
From France to England never such a power,
For any foreign preparation,
Was levy'd in the body of a land.
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them:
For when you should be told they do prepare,
The tidings come, that they are all arriv'd.

K. John.
Oh where hath our intelligence been drunk?
Where hath it slept? where is my mother's care?
That such an army should be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it?

Mes.
My Liege, her ear
Is stopt with dust: the first of April dy'd
Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord,
The lady Constance in a frenzie dy'd
Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue
I idely heard; if true or false, I know not.

K. John.
With-hold thy speed, dreadful occasion!
O make a league with me, 'till I have pleas'd
My discontented peers. My mother dead?
How wildly then walks my estate in France?

Under whose conduct came those powers of France,
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here?

Mes.
Under the Dauphin. Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.

K. John.
Thou hast made me giddy
With these ill tidings. Now, what says the world
To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news, for it is full.

Bast.
But if you be afraid to hear the worst,
Then let the worst unheard fall on your head.

K. John.
Bear with me, cousin; for I was amaz'd
Under the tide, but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood; and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

Bast.
How I have sped among the clergy-men,
The sums I have collected shall express.
But as I travell'd hither through the land,
I find the people strangely fantasied;
Possest with rumours, full of idle dreams;
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear.
And here's a prophet that I brought with me
From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
With many hundreds treading on his heels:
To whom he sung in rude harsh-sounding rhimes,
That ere the next Ascension-day at noon
Your Highness should deliver up your crown.

K. John.
Thou idle dreamer, wherefore did'st thou so?

Peter.
Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so.

K. John.
Hubert, away with him; imprison him,
And on that day at noon, whereon he says
I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd.
Deliver him to safety, and return,

For I must use thee. O my gentle cousin,
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd?

Bast.
The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it:
Besides, I met lord Bigot and lord Salisbury,
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,
And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, who they say is kill'd to-night
On your suggestion.

K. John.
Gentle kinsman, go
And thrust thy self into their company.
I have a way to win their loves again:
Bring them before me.

Bast.
I will seek them out.

K. John.
Nay, but make haste; the better foot before.
O, let me have no subjects enemies,
When adverse foreigners affright my towns
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion.
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels,
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.

Bast.
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. [Exit.

K. John.
Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman.
Go after him; for he perhaps shall need
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers,
And be thou he.

Mes.
With all my heart, my Liege. [Exit.

K. John.
My mother dead!

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