An open Place in the neighbourhood of Swinstead Abbey. |
| |
Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally. |
| Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. |
| Bast. A friend. What art thou? |
| Hub. Of the part of England. |
| Bast. Whither dost thou go? |
| Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand |
| Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine? |
| Bast. 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? |
| Bast. Who thou wilt: and if thou please, |
| Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think |
| I come one way of the Plantagenets. |
| Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night |
| Have done me shame: brave soldier, pardon me, |
| That any accent breaking from thy tongue |
| Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. |
| Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? |
| Hub. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night, |
| To find you out. |
| Bast Brief, then; and what's the news? |
| Hub. O! my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, |
| Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. |
| Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news: |
| I am no woman; I'll not swound at it. |
| Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: |
| I left him almost speechless; and broke out |
| To 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. |
| Bast. 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. |
| Bast. Whom 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. |
| Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, |
| And tempt us not to bear above our power! |
| I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, |
| Passing these flats, are taken by the tide; |
| These Lincoln Washes have devoured them: |
| Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. |
| Away before! conduct me to the king; |
| I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. [Exeunt. |
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