| |
The Same. The French Camp. | |
| |
Enter LEWIS and his Train. | |
| Lew. The sun of heaven methought was loath to set, | |
| But stay’d and made the western welkin blush, | |
| When the English measur’d backward their own ground | 5 |
| In faint retire. O! bravely came we off, | |
| When with a volley of our needless shot, | |
| After such bloody toil, we bid good night, | |
| And wound our tottering colours clearly up, | |
| Last in the field, and almost lords of it! | 10 |
| |
Enter a Messenger. | |
| Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? | |
| Lew. Here: what news? | |
| Mess. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords, | |
| By his persuasion, are again fall’n off; | 15 |
| And your supply, which you have wish’d so long, | |
| Are cast away and sunk, on Goodwin sands. | |
| Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart! | |
| I did not think to be so sad to-night | |
| As this hath made me. Who was he that said | 20 |
| King John did fly an hour or two before | |
| The stumbling night did part our weary powers? | |
| Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. | |
| Lew. Well; keep good quarter and good care to-night: | |
| The day shall not be up so soon as I, | 25 |
| To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt. | |
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