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Dreamweaver
[Enter Louis and his train.]
Louis
The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set,
But stay’d, and made the western welkin blush,
When the English measure 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 tott’ring colours clearly up,
Last in the field, and almost lords of it!
[Enter a Messenger.]
MESSENGER
Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Louis
Here. What news?
MESSENGER
The Count Melun is slain; the English lords
By his persuasion are again fall’n off,
And your supply, which you have wish’d so long,
Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.
Louis
Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart!
I did not think to be so sad tonight
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?
MESSENGER
Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
Louis
Well, keep good quarter and good care tonight.
The day shall not be up so soon as I,
To try the fair adventure of tomorrow.
[Exeunt.]