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Eli. Farewell, my gentle cu usin.

Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, K. John.

Coz, farewell. Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard,

(Eri: Bastard. Of any kindred action like to this? Exi. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. K. Phi. Weil could I bear that England had this (She takes Arthur aside

K. Juhn. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle So we could find some pattern of our shame.

We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh

There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; And with advantage means to pay thy love: Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, And, my good triend, thy voluntary oath

In the vile prison ofaillicted breath :Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

I pr’ythee, lady, go away with me. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,

Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of

your peace! But I will tít it with some better lime.

K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed

Constance! To say what good respect I have of thee.

Const. No, I defyd all counsel, all redress, Hub. I am inuch bounden to your majesty. But that which ends all counsel, true redress, K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say Death, death:-( amiable lovely Death! so yet:

Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.

Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
I had a thing to say,--but let it go:

And I will kiss thy detestable bones;
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, And put my eye balls in thy vaulty brows;
Attended with the pleasures of the world,

And ring these tingers with thy household worms; Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
To give me audience:-1f the midnight bell And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Did, with his iron tongue and brazeni mouth, Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;

And buss thee as thy wite! Misery's love,
If this same were a church-yard where we stand, 0, come to me.
And thou possessed with a thousand wiongs;

k, Phi. O fair aflliction, peace. Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry: Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! (Which, else, runs tickling up and down the reins, Then with a passion would I shake the world; Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's cyes, And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,

Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, A passion hateful to my purposes ;)

Which scorns a moderni invocation. Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so; Without a tongue, using conceit' alone,

I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine; Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of woi Is My name is Constance; I was Gellrey's wife; Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,

Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: I am not mad; I would to heaven, I were!
But, ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well;

For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well. 0, if I could, what griet' should I forget!-

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act, And tlou shall be canoniz'd, cardinal;
By heaven, I'd do't.

For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
K. John.

Do not I know, thou wouldst? My reasonable part produces reason Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye How I may be deliverid of these woes, On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, And teaches me to kill or hang myself: He is a very serpent in my way;

If I were mad, I should forget my son: And, wheresoc'er this foot of mine doth tread, Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: He lies before me; Dost thou understand me? I am not mad; too well, too well I feel Thou art his keeper.

The diferent plague of each calamity. Hub.

And I will keep him so, K. Phi. Bindupih se tresses: 0, what love I note That he shall not offend your majesty.

In the fair multitude of those her hairs! K. John. Death.

Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, Hub. My lord?

Even to that trop ten thousand wiry friends K. John.

A grave.

Do glue themselves in sociable griei; Hub.

He shall not live. Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, K. John.

Enough. Sticking together in calamity. I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;

Const. To England, if you will. Well, I'll not say what I intend for thce;

K. Phi.

Bind up your hairs. Remember.-Madam, fare you well;

Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.

do it? Eli. My blessing go with thee!

I tore them from their bonds: and cried aloud, K. John.

For England, cousin: O that these hands could so redeem my son, Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

As they have giren these hairs their liberty! With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho! But now I envy at their liberty,

(Exeunt. And will again commit them to their bonds,

Because my poor child is a prisoner.SCENE IV.-The same. The French King's Tent. And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,

That we shall see and know our friends in heaven; Enter King Philip, LEWIS, PANDELPH, and

If that be true, I shall see my boy again:

For since the birth of Cain, ihe tirst male child,
K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, To him that did but yesterday suspire,
A whole armado 4 of convicted 5 sail

There was not such a gracious creature born. Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

But now will canker sorrow cat my bud, Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well. And chase the native beauty from his cheek, K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run And he will look as hollow as a ghost; so ill ?

As dim and mcagre as an ague's fit; Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?

And so he'll die; and, rising so again, Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? When I shall meet him in the court of heaven And bloody England into England gone,

I shall not know him: therefore never, never O'erbearing interruption, spite of France ?

Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. Lew What he hath won, that hath he fortified; Pand. You hold too henious a respect of grief. So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd,

Const. He talks to me that never had a son.

K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 1 Chowy ornaments. 2 Conception. 9 Joined. * Fleet of war. * Overcome.

• Refuse. 1 Common. • Breathe. Graceful.

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Makes nice ot' no vile hold to stay him up:
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; That Jdhn may stand, then Arthur needs must fall.
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, So be it, for it cannot be but so.
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's Stuils out his vacant garments with his form;

fall? Ti en have I reason to be fond of grief.

Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch, your wife, l'are you well: had you such a loss as I,

May then make all the claim that Arthur did. I could give better comfort than you do.

Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. I will not keep this form upon my head,

Pund. How green are you, and fresh in this old (Teuring off her head-dress.

world! When there is such disorder in my wit.

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you: O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!

For he ihat steeps his safety in true blood, My lite, iny joy, my food, my all the world! Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure. (E.rit. This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal;

(Erit. That none so small advantage shall step forth, Lew. There's nothing in this world can make to check his reign, but they will cherish it: me joy:

No natural exhalation in the sky, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

No scape of nature, no distemper'd day, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;

No common wind, no customed event, And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's But they will pluck away his natural cause, taste,

And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven,

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. Even in the instant of repair and healtı,

Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's The fit is strongest; evils that take leave,

life, On their departure most of all show evil:

But holds himself sale in his prisonment. What have you lost, by losing of this day?

Pand. 0, sir, when he shall hear of our approach, Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. If that young Arthur be not gone already,

Pant. If you had won it, certainly you had. Even at that news he dies: and then the heart No, no: when fortune means to men most good, Of all his people shall revolt from him, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. And kiss the lips of unacquainted change: 'Tis strange, to think how much King John hath And pick strong matter oi revolt and wrath, lost

Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
In this which he accounts so clearly won:

Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot;
Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner? And, 0, what better matter breeds for you,

Lew. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. Than I have named !-- The bastard Faulcor bridge

Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Is now in England, ransacking the church, Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; Offending charity: If but a dozen French For even the breath of what I mean to speak Were there in arms, they would be as a call Shall blow cach dust, each straw, each little rub, To train ten thousand English to their side; Out of the path which shall directly lead

Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark: Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be,

Go with me to the king: 'Tis wonderful, That, whiles warın life plays in that infant's veins, What may be wrought out of their discontent: The misplaced John should entertain an hour, Now that their souls are topful of offence, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest:

For England go; I will whet on the king. A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand,

Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions; Let Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gaind:

us go; And he that stands upon a slippery place,

If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. (Exeunt.


SCENE I.-Northampton. A Room in the Castle. Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?

No, indeed, is't not; And I would to heaven,
Enter HUBERT and two Attendants.

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. Hub. Heat me these irons hot: and look thou Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate stand

He will awake my mercy which lies dead: Within the arras:' when I strike my foot

Therefore, I will be sudden and despatch. (Aside. Upon the hosom of the ground, rush forth:

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,

day: Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. In sooth, I would you were a little sick, 1 Attenl. I hope your warrant will bear out the That I might sit all night, and watch with you: deed.

I warrant I love you more than you do me. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. to't.

(E.ceunt Attendants. Read here, young Arthur. (Showing a paper.) How Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

now, foolish rheum!

cride. Enter ARTHUR.

Turning dispiteous torture out of door!

I must be brief; lest resolution drop Arth. Good-morrow, Hubert.

Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.Hu.

Good-morrow, little prince. Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:
To be more prince) as may be. You are sad.

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Hub. Young boy, I must.

Mercy on me!

And will you ?
Methinks, no body should be sad but I:


And I will. Yet I remember, when I was in France,

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,

but ache, Only for wantonness. By iny christendom, I knit my handkerchief about your brows, So I were out of prison and kept sheep,

(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) I should be merry as the day is long;

And I did never ask it you again: And so I would be here, but that I doubt

And with iny hand at midnight held your My uncle practises more harm to me:

And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, He is afraid of me, and I of him:

Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; 1 Tapestry.

Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?

Or, What good love may I perform for you? Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while
Many a poor man's son would have lain still You were disguised.
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;


Peace: no more. Adieu; But you at your sick service iiad a prince.

Your uncle must not know but you are dead: Nay, you may think my love was craity love, I'll till these dogged spies with false reports. And calling it cunning; Do, an it you will: And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Why, then you must.-Will you put out minc eyes? Will not oflend thee. These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,


O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. So much as frown on you?

Hub. Silence; no more: Go closelys in with me; Hub.

I have sworn to do it; Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it! SCENE II.-- A Room of State in the Palace. 'The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,

Enter KING JOHN, crowned; PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears, And quench his fiery indignation,

and other Lords. The king takes his Stute. Even in the matter of mine innocence:

K. John. Here once again we sit, once again Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

crown'd, Bui for containing fire to harm mine eye.

And lookid upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? Pem. This once again, but that your highness An if an angel should have come to me,

pleas'd, And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, Was once superfluous: you were crown d before, I would not have believ'd no tongue, but kiubert's. And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd oft'; Hub. Come forth.

(Stamps. The faiths of inen ne'er stained with revolt; Re-enter Attendants, with Cord, Irons, fc.

Fresh expectation troubled not the land,

With any long'd-ior change, or better state. Do as I bid you do.

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes To guard® a title that was rich before, are out,

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. To throw a pertume on the violet,

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. To smooth the ice, or add another hue

Arth. Alas! what need you be so boist'rous rough? Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

To seek the beauteous eye oi heaven to garnish,"
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away, Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

done, I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, This act is as an ancient tale new told; Nor look upon the iron angerly:

And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Being urged at a time unseasonable. Whatever torment you do put me to.

Sal. In this the antique and well-noted face Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. Of plain old form is much distigured: 1 Attend. I am best pleas'd to be from such a And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, deed.

[Exeunt Attendants. It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about: Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; Startles and frights consideration; He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:

Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, Let him come back, that his compassion may For putting on so new a lashion'd robe. Give life to yours.

Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well, Hub.

Come, boy, prepare yourself. They do contound their skill in covetousness:8 Arth. Is there no remedy?

And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, Hub.

None, but to lose your eyes. Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse; Arth. O heaven!—that there were but a motè in As patches set upon a little breach, yours,

Discredit more in hiding of the lault, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,

Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Sal. To this etlect before you were new crown'd, Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, we breath'd our counsel: but it pleas'd your Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

highness Hub. Is this your promise! go to, hold your To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; tongue.

Since all and every part of what we would, Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Doth make a stand at what your lighness will. Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:

K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert! I have posses'd you with, and think them strong; Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) So I may keep mine eyes; 0, spare mine eyes; I shall indue you with: Mean time, but ask Though to no use, but still to look on you! What you would have reforin'd that is not well; Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,

And well shall you perceive, how willingly And would not harm me.

I will both hear and grant you your requests. Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Pem. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these Arth. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with grief, To sound the purposes of all their hearts,) Being create for comfort, to be used

Both for myself and them, (but chief of all, In undeserv'd extremes:’ See else, yourself; Your safety, for the which myself and them There is no malice in this burning coal;

Bend their best studies,) hearily request The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, The entranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.

Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. To break into this dangerous argument,

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, If, what in rest you have, in right you hold,
and glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes; The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up
And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight,

Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days
Snatch at his master that doth tarres him on. With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
All things, that you should use to do me wrong, The rich advantage of good exercise?
Deny their oflice: only you do lack

That the time's enemies may not have this
That mercy, which fierce tire, and iron, extends, To grace occasions, let it be our suit,
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.

That you have bid us ask his liberty;
Hub: Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes Which for our goods we do no further ask,
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes: 4

Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,

Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. With this same very iron to burn them out.

K. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth In cruelty I have not deserved.

• Secretly.

Decorate * Set him on. *Owas. 8 Desire of excelling.

6 Lace.


on me?


I find the people strangely fantasied;
To your direction.-Hubert, what news with you? Possess’d with rumors, full of idle dreams;

Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed; Not knowing what they fear, but full of tear: He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine:

And here's a prophet, that I brought with me The image of a wicked henious fault

From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his

With many hundreds treading on his heels; Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast;

To whom he sung, in rood harsh-sounding rhymes, And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done,

That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, What we so icard he had a charge to do.

Your highness should deliver up your crown. Sal. The color of the king doth come and go,

K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst Between his purpose and his conscience,

thou so? Like heralds twixt two dreadful battles set:

Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.

K. John. Ilubert, away with him; imprison him; Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.

I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong For I must use thee.-0 my gentle cousin.

Deliver him to safety,' and return, hand: Good lords, although my will to give is living,

(Exil HUBERT, with PETER. The suit which you demand is gone and dead:

Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd ? He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night.

Bust. The French, my lord; men's mouths are Sal. Indeed, we feard, his sickness was past cure. Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury,

full of it:
Pem. Indeed we heard how near his death he was, (With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,)
Before the child himself felt he was sick:
This must be answer'd, either here, or hence.

And others more, going to seek the grave
K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night

On your suggestion. Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?

K. John.

Gentle kinsman, go, Have I commandment on the pulse of life?

And thrust thyself into their companies: Sal. It is apparent toul play; and 'tis shame,

I have a way to win their loves again; That greatness should so grossly offer it:

Bring them before me.

Bast. So thrive it in your game! and so farewell.

I will seek them out. Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thce,

k. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot And find the inheritance of this poor child,

before. This little kingdom of a forced grave.

0, let me have no subject enemies, That blood, which ow'd' the breadth of all this isle, When adverse foreigners affright my towns Three foot of it doth hold: Bad world the while!

With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!-This must not be thus borne: this will break out

Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels; To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt.

And fly, lil thought, from them to me again. (Exeunt Lords.

Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent;

(Erit. There is no sure foundation set on blood;

K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentle

man.No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need
Enter a Messenger.

Some messenger betwixt me and the peers;

And be thou he. A fearful eye thou hast: Where is that blood,


With all my heart, my liege. That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? So foul a sky clears not without a storm:

(Exit. Pour down the weather:- How goes all in France?

K. John. My mother dead! Mess. From France to England.-Never such a

Re-enter HUBERT. power For any foreign preparation,

Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen Was levied in the body of a land!

to-night: The copy of your speed is learn'd by them;

Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about For, when you should be told they do prepare,

The other four, in wond'rous motion. The tidings come, that they are all arrived.

K. John. Five moons? K. John. 0, where hath our intelligence been

Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets drunk?

Do prophecy upon it dangerously; Where hath it slept! Where is my mother's care,

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: That such an army could be drawn in France,

And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And she not hear ot it?

And whisper one and other in the ear;
My liege, her ear

And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died

Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord,

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. The lady Constance in a frenzy died

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, Three days before: but this from rumor's tongue

The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, I idly heard; if true, or false, I know not.

With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, 0, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd

Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste My discontented peers!-What! mother dead?

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet.) How wildly then walks my estate in France !

Told ota many thousand warlike French, Under whose conduct came those powers of France, That were embattled and rank'd in Kent? That thou for truth giv'st out, are landed here?

Another lean unwash'd artificer Mess. Under the Dauphin.

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. Enter the Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.

K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with

these fears? K. John.

Thou hast made me giddy Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? With these ill tidings:--Now, what says the world Thy hand hath murderú him: I had mighty cause To your proceedings? do not seek to stuif

To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. My head with more ill news, for it is full.

Hub. Had none, my lord! why, did you not proBast. But, if you be a teard to hear the worst,

voke me? Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended

K. John. Bear with me, cousin; for I was amaz'd By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant Under the tide; but now I breathe again

To break within the bloody house of life: Aloit the d; and can give audience

And, on the winking of authority, To any tongue speak it of what it will.

To understand a law; to know the meaning Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen, Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns The sums I have collected shall express.

More upon humor than advis'd respect. 3 But, as I travelled hither through the land,

Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. 10wned.

Safe custody.

Deliberate consideration


K. John. 0, when the last account 'twixt heaven

Enter the Bastard. and earth

Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'do Is to be made, then shall this hand and sea)

lords! Witness against us to damnation!

The king, by me, requests your presence straight. How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds,

Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of us; Makes deeds ill done! Hadest not thou been by,

We will not line his thin bestained cloak
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,

With our pure honors, nor attend the foot
This murder had not came into my mind:

That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks:

Return, and tell him so; we know the worst. But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect,

Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, Finding thee fit for bloody villany,

were best. Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger,

Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death;

Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; And thou, to be endeared to a king,

Therefore, 'twere reason you had manners now. Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. Hub. My lord,

Bast. 'Tis true; to hurt his master, no man else. K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or Sal. This is the prison: What is he lies here? made a pause,

[Seeing ARTHUR. When I spake darkly what I purposed;

Pem. O death, made proud with pure and princely Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,

beauty! As bid me tell my tale in express words;

The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break

Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, ott,

Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me:
But thou didst understand me by my signs,

Big. Or when he doom'd this beauty to a grave,

Found it too precious-princely for a grave.
And didst in signs again parley with sin:
Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,

Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you

beheld, And, consequently, thy rude hand to act The deed, which both our tongues held vile to Or do you almost think, although you see,

Or have you read, or heard? or could you think? name, Out of my sight, and never see me more!

That you do see? could thought, without this object,

Form such another? This is the very top, My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, The height, the crest, or crest unto ihe crest, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers: Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, Nay in the body of this fleshly land, This kingdom, this contine of blood and breath,

The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,

That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, Hostility and civil tumult reigns

Presented to the tears of soit remorse.? Between my conscience, and my cousin's death.

Pem. All murders past do stand excused in this:
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, And this, so sole, and so unmatchable,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you. Shall give a holiness, a purity,
Young Arthur is alive: This hand of mine

To the yet-unbegotten sin of time;
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.

And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,
Within tnis bosom never enter'd yet

Exampled by this henious spectacle. The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,

Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work;

The graceless action of a heavy hand,
And you have slander'd nature in my form;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,

If that it be the work of any hand.

Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ?Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

We had a kind of light, what would ensue:
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand;
K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the The practice, and the purpose, of the king:-

Throw this report on their incensed rage,

From whose obedience I forbid my soul, And make them tame to their obedience!

Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,

And breathing to his breathless excellence
Forgive the comment that my passion made The incense of a vow; a holy vow;
Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind,

Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood

Never to be infected with delight, Presented thee more hideous than thou art.

Nor conversant with ease and idleness, 0, answer not; but to my closet bring

Till I have set a glory to this hand,
The angry lords, with all expedient haste:
I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. (Exeunt.

By giving it the worship of revenge.
Pem. Big. Our souls religiously confirm thy

SCENE III.-Before the Castle.

Enter ARTHUR, on the Walls.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you:
Arth. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down: Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you.
Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not! -

Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death : There's few, or none, do know me; if they did, Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. Hub. I am no a villain. I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it.


Must I rob the law? If I get down, and do not break my limbs,

[Drawing his sword. I'll find a thousand shifts to get away;

Bast. Your sword is bright, sir: put it up again. As good to die, and go, as die, and stay.

Sal. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin.

(Leaps down. Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones:

say; Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours:


would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Entcr PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and Bigot.

Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;

Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Sal. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmund's Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. Bury;

Big. Out, dunghill! dar'st thou brave a noble It is our safety, and we must embrace

man? This gentle offer of the perilous time.

Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? My innocent life against an emperor.

Sal. The count Melum, a noble lord of France; Sal. Thou art a murderer. Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love, Hub.

Do not prove me so; Is much more general than these lines import. Yet, I am none: Whose tongue soe'er speaks false,

Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.

Sal. Or, rather then set forward: for 'twill be Pem. Cut him to pieces. Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet.

6 Out of humor. 7 Pity. *Noted, observed. 6 Private account. & Honest.

By compelling me to kill you.

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