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I send in this[Arnold falls.] There's something
of thy due; To infamy and hell I leave the rest.
[Exit. Arn. Death I have caught: his shaft is in my heart. It tugs with nature. When shall I get free?
Enter Prince, CHANDOS, and Attendants.
streams of blood!
Arn. Offended prince,
Prince. Thrice have I mark'd
Arn. All worthless quite.
Prince. Talk not of dying-Live, and still be mine.
heart Forgive and cherish one who is so vile ? Prince. As Heav'n may pardon me, thy crime's
Arn. Then I am happy. Hear it, sacred pow'rs, And give him glory great, as is his goodness. I go-Methinks the gloomy way before me Is stripp'd of half its horrors. Friendly death, Receive a parting, pity'd, pardon'd- Oh! [Dies.
Chan. He dies !--- Is gone.
Prince. Proving, my noble friend, His soul was genuine English, and could tow'r O’er all calamities but conscious guilt. Chan. Heav'n's pardon greet him-Mighty prince,
behold, Where gallant Audley, like a tempest, pours Destruction thro' the thickest ranks of foes !
Prince. Oh, Chandos, with astonishment my eye Hath mark'd his valiant wonder-working sword . Come, let us kindle at the great example, And emulate the ardor we admire.
Enter King JOHN, TOURAIN, and Atiendants. King. [Turning back.] Rally our men, my valiant
Lord of Ewe, Or we are all undone. “O gracious Heav'n, " How has a kingdom crumbled from my grasp !
“ Tour. Let us preserve ourselves by timely flight, « Our broken army is dispersing. See, “ Behold the dastards how they run in thousands ! " Oh, shamel almost before a single foe.
“ King. My dear Tourain, to what have I reduc'd
thee! “ A ruin now of pompl a royal wretch ! “ For thee I could weep blood; for thee I fear “ To lose a life no longer worth my care,
“ Stripp'd as I am of dignity and fame. : “ Tour. I ask of Heav'n but to partake your for.
tune; “ Not wasting on myself a single care, “ I send out all attendant on my king. “ King. Tears will have way-0 majesty, give
place, "For nature governs now! Almighty Pow'rs! “ Must children and must kingdoms suffer thus, « Because my pride to reason shut my ears, " When dazzled with the giddy phantom, glory. " I scorn'd the terms that might have blest us all? “ Too late~It is the curse of giddy mortals “ To see their errors and repent too late.”
- Enter Archbishop of Sens. Sens. The Dauphin, Dukes of Anjou, Berry, Oro
leans, Have led the way in flight | Earl Douglas follows, Fainting with many wounds, and all his Scots Have like our French and the auxiliar troops, Forsook their posts. For safety, sir, away
King. Dare not to urge it-I disdain the thought. Go, like my coward sons and brother, go : Though all desert me, singly will I stand
And face my foes, 'till cover'd o’er with wounds,
“ Enter CHARNEY, bleeding and faint, resting on his
sword. “ Char. Embrace this moment as your last for flight, « The field is lost I have not breath for more. " This honest wound came timely to my rescue, “ Or I'd been curst to wail the dregs of life “ Away in anguish. Parent death, receive me.
“[Lies down. “ This is the goal to which all nature runs, “ And I rejoice to reach it.- All is lost! “ My country, monarch, daughter, life, and-Oh!
“[Dies. “ King. Thou, Charney hast escap'd- [ A skout. 6. What noise is that? “ Tour. The sound of triumph.--Now there is no
retreating, « For, see! they have beset us all around. “ King. Come then, thou darling of thy father's
soul, « We'll link our wretched fortunes here together. “ And if a king's example can inspire “ The few yet faithful in my lost condition, “ Cast fear behind, and daringly come on, “ Determin'd still to conquer or to die.” [Exeunt. SCENE V.
Opens to a full prospect of the Field. Enter RIBEMONT,
Rib. Ill-fated Athens, thou hast breath'd thy last, But wherefore call'd I thee ill-fated ? since Death but prevented thee the curse of seeing Our arms dishonour'd, and our country lost. Now, sacred soul of him who gave me life, The purpose of thy visit is explain’d. No private evil, not a fate like mine That were a trival call for thee to earth : It was to warn me of a heavier loss, Our diadem and fame. Hah!- I'm alone Amidst a field of foes ! let me collect A decent vigour, like the hunted lion, With an assault to dignify my fall, And not shrink, tamely, to a vulgar fate,
Rib. France-By Heav'n, the gallant Audley!
Aud. Brave Ribemont, I will return thy praise,