_Mel._ Have I not hideous death within my view, Retaining but a quantity of life, Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire?[625] 25 What in the world should make me now deceive, Since I must lose the use of all deceit?[626] Why should I then be false, since it is true That I must die here and live hence by truth? I say again, if Lewis do win the day,[627] 30 He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours Behold another day break in the east: But even this night, whose black contagious breath Already smokes about the burning crest[628] Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun, 35 Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Paying the fine of rated treachery[629] Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives, If Lewis by your assistance win the day. Commend me to one Hubert with your king: 40 The love of him, and this respect besides, For that my grandsire was an Englishman,[630] 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, 45 Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts In peace, and part this body and my soul With contemplation and devout desires. _Sal._ We do believe thee: and beshrew my soul But I do love the favour and the form 50 Of this most fair occasion, by the which We will untread the steps of damned flight, And like a bated and retired flood,[631] Leaving our rankness and irregular course,[632] Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd[633] 55 And calmly run on in obedience Even to our ocean, to our great King John. My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; For I do see the cruel pangs of death[634] Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight;[635] 60 And happy newness, that intends old right.[636] [_Exeunt, leading off Melun._ SCENE V. _The French camp._[637] _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 English measure backward their own ground[638] In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, 5 After such bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tattering colours clearly up,[639] Last in the field, and almost lords of it! _Enter a_ Messenger. _Mess._ Where is my prince, the Dauphin?[640] _Lew._ Here: what news?