the burning crest
Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun,
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,
the fine of rated treachery
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your assistance win
Commend me to one Hubert with your king:
The love of him, and this respect besides,
my grandsire was an Englishman,
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you,
bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field,
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
peace, and part this body and my soul
With contemplation and devout desires.
We do believe thee: and beshrew my soul
But I do love the favour and the form
Of this most fair occasion,
by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight,
And like a bated and retired flood,
rankness and irregular course,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd
And cabby run on in
Even to our ocean, to our great King John.
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence;
I do see the cruel pangs of death
Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight;
And happy newness,
that intends old right.
Exeunt, leading off MELUN
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