Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: But ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well; And, by my troth, I think, thou lovest me well. Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, By heaven, I'd do't.
K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst ? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me: Dost thou understand me? Thou art his keeper.
Hub. And I will keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death.
Hub. My lord?
K. John. A grave.
Hub. He shall not live.
K. John. Enough.
I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee; Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: Remember.Madam, fare you well: I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. Eli. My blessing go with thee!
K. John. For England, Cousin: Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same.-The French KING'S Tent. Enter King PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and At-
K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armado ‡ of convicted sail Is scatter'd, and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pand. Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well. K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run so ill?
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur ta'en prisoner? Divers dear friends slain? And bloody England into England gone, O'erbearing interruption, spite of France?
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: So hot a speed with such advice disposed, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard, Of any kindred action like to this?
K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Look, who comes here! A grave unto a soul; Holding the etert al spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath :-
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.
Const. Lo, now! Now see the issue of your peace! K. Phi. Patience, good lady! Comfort, gentle
Const. No, I defy || all counsel, all redress, But that which ends all counsel, true redress, Death, death: O amiable lovely death!
Thoa odoriferous stench! Sound rottenness! Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And I will kiss thy detestable bones: And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household worms; And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st, And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace.
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: I am not mad;-I would to heaven, I were! For then, 'tis hike I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget!- Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal: For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliver'd of these woes, And teaches me to kill or hang myself: If I were mad, I should forget my son; Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: I am not mad; too well, too well I feel The different plague of each calamity.
K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity.
Const. To England, if you will.
K. Phi. Bind up your hairs.
Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud, O that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty! But now I envy at their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds, Because my poor child is a prisoner.- And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost; As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him: therefore, never, never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. K. Phi. You are as fond of grief as of your child. Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.- I will not keep this form upon my head, [Tearing off her Head-dress. When there is such. disorder in my wit. O lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Exit. K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me joy:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's
That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness. Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, On their departure, most of all shew evil: What have you lost by losing of this day?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had. No, no: when fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:-Tis strange, to think how much king John frath lost
O, that the tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world; And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so; I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine: My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
In this which he accounts so clearly won: Are not you grieved, that Arthur is his prisoner? Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him. Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, | Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
The misplaced John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly band, Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd: And he, that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; So be it, for it cannot be but so.
Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world!
John lays you plots; the times conspire with you: For he, that steeps his safety in true blood, Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ; That none so small advantage shall step forth, To check his reign, but they will cherish it: No natural exhalation in the sky,
No scape of nature, no distemper'd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural clause, And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, présages, and tongues of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
No, indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven, I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [Aside. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick; That I might sit all night, and watch with you: 1 warrant, I love you more than you do me. Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.- Read here, young Arthur. Shewing a Paper.] How now, foolish rheum! [Aside.
Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief; lest resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.—— Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must.
Arth. And will you?
Hub. And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) And I did never ask it you again:
And with my hand at midnight held your head; And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; Saying, what lack you? And, where lies your grief! Or, what good love may I perform for you?
Pand. O, Sir, when he shall hear of your ap- Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change; And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath, Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot; And, 0, what better matter breeds for you, Than I have named!-The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England, ransacking the church, Offending charity: if but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the king: 'tis wonderful, What may be wrought out of their discontent: Now that their souls are topfull of offence, For England go; I will whet on the king. Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: let us go;
If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt.
SCENE 1-Northampton.-A Room in the Castle. Enter HUBERT, and two ATTENDANTS. Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou stand
Within the arras: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth; And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. 1 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look ¡Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter ARTHUR.
Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince,) as may be.-You are sad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier. Arth. Mercy on me!
Methinks, no body should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me: He is afraid of me, and I of him:
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, And call it, cunning: do, an if you will:
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, Why, then you must.-Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes, that never did nor never shall, So much as frown on you?
Hub. I have sworn to do it;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
Arth. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it; The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence: Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? An if an angel should have come to me, And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed no tongue, but Hubert's. Hub. Come forth. [Stamps.
Re-enter ATTENDANTS, with Cord, Irons, &c. Do as I bid you do.
Arth. O save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out,
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;
I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to.
Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. 1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants. Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:- Let him come back, that his compassion may Give life to yours.
Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself, Arth. Is there no remedy?
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O heaven! that there were but a mote in
So I may keep mine eyes; 0, spare mine eyes; Though to no use, but still to look on you! Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, And would not harm me,
Hub. I can heat it, boy.
I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) I shall indue you with: mean time, but ask What you would have reform'd, that is not well; And well shall you perceive, how willingly
Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with I will both hear and grant you your requests.
Being create for comfort, to be used'
In undeserved extremes: see else yourself; There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.
Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes; And, like a dog, that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on . All things, that you should use to do me wrong, Deny their office: only you do lack That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owes : Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out.
Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! All this while You were disguised.
Huo. Peace: no more. Adieu;
Your uncle must not know but you are dead : I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee.
Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert. Hub. Silence; no more: go closely in with me; Much danger do I undergo lor thee. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The same.—A Room of State in the Palace.
Enter King JOHN, crowned; PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other Lords.-The King takes his State. K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd,
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. Pem. This once again, but that your highness pleased,
Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off; The faiths of men ne'er stain'd with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land, With any long'd-for change, or better state.
Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Pemb. But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
Sal. In this, the antique and well noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured: And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Startles and frights consideration;
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.
Pemb. When workmen strive to do better than
Pemb. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purposes of all their hearts,) Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies,) heartily request The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument, If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise? That the time's enemies may not have this To grace occasions, let it be our suit, That you have bid us ask his liberty; Which for our goods we do no further ask: Than whereupon our weal, on you deper ding, Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. K. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth
He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine: The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye: that close aspect of his Does shew the mood of a much troubled breast; And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done, What we so fear'd he had a charge to do.
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. Pemb. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.
K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand; Good lords, although my will to give is living, The suit which you demand is gone and dead : He tells us, Arthur is deceased to-night.
Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past cure. Pemb. Indeed, we heard, how near his death he
Before the child himself felt he was sick : This must be answer'd, either here, or hence. K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows
Think you, I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life?
Sal. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame, That greatness should so grossly offer it :— So thrive it in your game! And so farewell. Pemb. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee,
And find the inheritance of this poor child His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood, which owed; the breath of all this isle, Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while! This must not be thus borne: this will break out To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt.
K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent; There is no sure foundation set on blood; No certain life achieved by others' death.—
A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood, That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm : Pour down thy weather :-How goes all in France? Mess. From France to England.-Never such a power 9
For any foreign preparation,
Was levied in the body of a land!
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; For, when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings come, that they are alt arrived. K. John. O, where hatli our intelligence been drunk?
Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care: That such an army could be drawn in France, And she not hear of it?
Mess. My liege, her ear
Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died Your noble mother: and, as I hear, my lord, The lady Constance in a frenzy died
Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue 1 idly heard; if true, or false, I know not.
K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion: O, make a league with me, till I have pleased My discontented peers!-What! Mother dead? How wildly then walks my estate in France!- Under whose conduct came those powers of France, That thou for truth givest out, are landed here? Mess. Under the Dauphin.
Enter the BASTARD and PETER of POMFRET.
K. John. Thou hast made me giddy, With these ill tidings.-Now, what says the world To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff
K. John Under the Aloft the
y head with more ill news, for it is full. Bast. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst, Then l the worst, unheard, fall on your head. .Bear with me, cousin; for I was amazed⚫ tide: but now I breathe again sood; and can give audience Tany tongue, speak it of what it will. Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen, The sums I have collected shall express. But, as I travell'd hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied; Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams; Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: And here's a prophet, that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels; To whom he sung, in rude harsh sounding rhymes, That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Your highness should deliver up your crown. K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so ?
Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. K. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: Deliver him to safety, and return, For I must use thee.-Ö my gentle cousin, [Exit Hubert, with Peter. Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived? Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it;
Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, (With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,) And others more, going to seek the grave Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night On your suggestion.
K. John. Gentle kinsman, go, And thrust thyself into their companies: I have a way to win their loves again;
Bring them before me.
Bust. I will seek them out.
Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent: Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. Hub. Had none, my lord? Why, did you not
K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life: And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon humour than advised respect.
Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth
Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation !
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds ill done! Hadest not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted †, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind: But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. Hub. My lord,-
K.John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made
Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers:
K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot Nay, in the body of this fleshly land †,
O, let me have no subject enemies, When adverse foreigners affright my towns With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!- Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels; And fly, like thought, from them to me again. Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
K. John. Spoke like a spriteful noble gentleman. Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou he.
K. John. My mother dead!
Mess. With all my heart, my liege.
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns
Between my conscience, and my cousin's death, Hub. Arin you against your other enemies, I'll make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive: this band of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never enter'd yet
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought, And you have slander'd nature in my form; Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste tee to the peers,
Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen Throw this report on their incensed rage,
Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about
The other four, in wond'rous motion.
K. John. Five moons?
And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not; but to my closet bring The angry lords, with all expedient haste: I conjure thee but slowly run more fast.
• Deliberate consideration. ↑ His own body.
[Exeunt.
Observed. § Expeditious
SCENE 111.—The same.—Before the Castle.
Enter ARTHUR, on the Walls.
Arth. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down:
Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not!-There's few, or none, do know me; if they did, This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me quite. I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs, I'll find a thousand shifts to get away: As good to die, and go, as die, and stay. (Leaps down. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones:Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! [Dies.
Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and B.GOT. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund's Bury;
It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time.
Pemb. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France; Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love, Is much more general than these lines import.
Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. Sul. Or, rather then set forward: for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. Enter the BASTARD.
Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd + lords!
The king, by me, requests your presence straight. Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of us; We will not line his thin bestained cloak With our pure honours, nor atten, the foot That leaves the print of blood where-e'er it walks: Return, and tell him so; we know the worst. Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.
Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pemb Sir, Sir, impatience hath his privilege. Bast. Tis true; to hurt his master, no man else. Sal. This is the prison: what is he lies here? [Seeing Arthur.
Pemb. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.
Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.
Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you be held, Or have you read, or heard? Or could you think? Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this object,
Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shanie,
The wildest savagery, the viles stroke,
Than ever wall-eyed wrath, or staring rage, Presented to the tears of soft remorse ‡.
Till I have set a glory to this hand, By giving it the worship of revenge. Pemb. Big. Our sonls religionsly confirm thy words Enter HUBERT
Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you : Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death: - Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! Hub. I am no villain.
Sal. Must I rob the law. [Drawing his Sword. Bast. Your sword is bright, Sir: put it up again. Sul. Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin. Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say;
By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as yours: I would not have you, iord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
Big. Out dunghill Darest thou brave a nobleman ? Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor.
Sal. Thou art a murderer.
Hub. Do not prove me so ;
Yet I am none; whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. Pemb. Cut him to pieces.
Bast. Keep the peace, I say.
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. Bast. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury: If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; Or I'll so maul you and your toasting iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell. Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge ? Second a villain, and a murderer?
Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. Big. Who kill'd this prince ?
Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well: I honour'd him, I loved him; and will weep My date of life out, for his sweet life's loss. Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villainy is not without such rheum §; And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse and innocency. Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; For I am stified with this smell of sin. Big. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! Pemb. There, tell the king, he may enquire us [Exeunt Lords. Bust. Here's a good world!-Knew you of this fair work?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd, Hubert.
Hub. Do but hear me, Sir. Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what;
Thou art damn'd as black-nay, nothing is so black; Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer: There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child Hub. Upon my soul,-
Bast. If thou didst but consent
To this most cruel act, do but despair,
And, if thou want'st cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rusk will be
Pemb. All murders past do stand excused in this: A beam to hang thee on; or, wouldst thou drown
And this, so sole, and so unmatchable,
Shall give a holiness, a purity,
To the yet-unbegotten sin of time;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle.
Bast. 1: is a damned and a bloody work; The graceless action of a heavy hand, If that it be the work of any hand.
Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ?— We had a kind of light, what would ensue: It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; The practice, and the purpose, of the king :From whose obedience I forbid my soul, Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, And breathing to his breathless excellence The incense of a vow, a holy vow; Never to taste the pleasures of the world, Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Put nt a little water in a spoon, And it shall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up.-
I do suspect thee very grievously. Hub. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want pains enough to torture me! I left him well.
Bast. Go, hear him in thine arms
I am amazed, methinks; and lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world.- How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty,
• Hand should be head; a glory is the circle of rays which surrounds the heads of saints in pic
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