Act V. Scene
V.
Scene V.—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
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!
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 fallen off;
And your supply, which you have wished 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
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,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt.
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