Is touched corruptibly; and his pure brain
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,
Foretel the ending of mortality.

Enter PEMBROKE, R. U. E.

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. (L.) Let him be brought into the orchard here.--[To Bigot, who exits, R. U. E.

Doth he still rage ?

Pem. He is more patient

[To Pembroke.

Than when you left him: even now he sung.
P. Hen. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death.

Enter BIGOT, Knights, Monks, &c., R. U. E., carrying a bench on which KING JOHN is lying, a white bandage round his head. The bench is placed in front, c.

Sal. (R.) 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.

K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust : I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen Upon a parchment, and against this fire Do I shrink up.

P. Hen. How fares your majesty ?

[L. of couch.

K. John. Poisoned,—ill fare;-dead, forsook, cast off,
And none of you will bid the winter come,
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course
Through my burned bosom; nor entreat the north
To make his bleak winds kiss my parchéd lips,
And comfort me with cold.-I do not ask you much:
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,

And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

P. Hen. Oh, 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

Enter FAULCONbridge and Hubert, R. U. E.
R. of couch.

On unreprievable condemnéd blood.
Faulc. [Kneels.] Oh! I am scalded with
tion,

And spleen of speed to see your majesty.

Both go down

my violent mo

K. John. Oh, cousin; thou art come to set mine
The tackle of my heart is cracked and burned;
And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail,
Are turnéd to one thread, one little hair :
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou seest is but a clod
And module of confounded royalty.

my power,

eye:

Faulc. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him;
For, in a night, the best part of
As I upon advantage did remove,
Were in the washes, all unwarily,
Devoured by the unexpected flood.

[King dies, falling back on couch. Hub. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.-My liege! my lord!—[All advance to couch.] But now a king, now thus.

Faulc. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, To do the office for thee of revenge,

And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven,

As it on earth hath been thy servant still.

Hub. At Worcester must his body be interred; For so he willed it.

Faulc. Thither shall it, then.

And happily may you, sweet prince, put on

The lineal state and glory of the land:

To whom, with all submission, on my knee,

I do bequeath my faithful services,

And true subjection everlastingly.

Sal. [All kneel with him.] And the like tender of our

love we make.

P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks, And knows not how to do it, but with tears.

[All rise.

Faulc. Oh! let us pay the time but needful woe,
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs.-
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these, her princes, are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,

And we shall shock them. Naught shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.

[Organ Music.-All gather round the body of the King
as the Curtain descends.

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF THE CURTAIN.