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Set thou at liberty! the fat ribs of peace

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you Must by the hungry now be fed upon.

With all true duly. – On toward Calais, ho! (Exeunt. Use our commission in his utmost force! Bast. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me back, SCENE IV. - The same. The French King's tent. When gold and silver becks me to come on. Enter King PuillP, Lewis, PandOLPH, und AttenI leave your highness. — Grandam, I will pray

dants. (If ever I remember to be holy,).

K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.

A whole armado of convicted sail Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousiu !

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. K. John. Coz, farewell!

(Exit Bastard. Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go srell. Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word ! K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run so ill?

(She takes Arthur aside. Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? K.John. Come hither, Hubert! O my gentle Hubert, Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain? We owe thee much ; within this wall of flesh

And bloody England into England gone, There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,

O’erbearing interruption, spite of France ? And with advantage means to pay thy love.

Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath

So bot a speed with such advice dispos’d, Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Give me thy hand! I had a thing to say,

Doth want example. Who hath read, or heard, But I will fit it with some better time.

Of any kindred action like to this? By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd

K. Phi. Well could I bear, that England had this To say, what good respect I have of thee.

praise, Hub, I am much bounden to your majesty.

So we could find some pattern of our shame. K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so

Enter Coxstance. yet,

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul, But thou shalt have, and creep time ne'er so slow, Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.

In the vile prison of afflicted breath. I had a thing to say, — But let it go :

I pr’ythee, lady, go away with me! The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,

Cunst. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace ! Attended with the pleasures of the world,

K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Cor Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,

stance ! To give me audience. - Ifthe midnight bell

Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, But that, which ends all counsel, true redress,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night,

Death, death. - O amiable lovely deat li!
If this same were a church-yard where we stand, Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, And I will kiss thy détestable bones,
(Which, else, runs tickling up and dowu the veins, And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, And ring these fingers with thy household worms,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,

And stop this gap oi breath with fulsome dust, A passion hateful to my purposes ;)

And be a carrion monster like thyself. Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,

Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love, Without a tongue, using conceit alone,

0, come to me! Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words: K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace! Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,

Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry.I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.

0, that my tongne were in the thunder's mouth! But ah, I will nat: - yet I love thee well;

Then with a passion would I shake the world,
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well. And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act, Which scorns a modern invocation.
By heaven, I'd do't.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. K. John. Do not I know thou would'st?

Const. Thou art not holy to belie meso,
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine;
On yon young boy! I'll tell thee what, my friend, My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
Vleis a very serpentin my way,

Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
And, whereso'er this foot of mine doth tread, I am not mad; – I would to heaven, I were!
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? For then, 'tis like I should forget myself.
Thou art his keeper.

o, if I could, what grief should I forget! Hub. And I will keep him so,

Preach some philosophy, to make me mad, That he shall not offend your majesty.

And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal ; K. John Death.

For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, Hub. My loral?

My reasonable part produces reason, K. John. A grave.

How I may be deliver'd of these woes, Hlub. Ile shall not live.

And teaches me to kill, or hang myself. K. John. Enough!

If I were mad, I should forget my son ; I could be merry now. Habert, I love thee;

Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he. Well, I'll not say, what I intend for thee.

I am not mad; too well, too well I feel Remember! - Madam, fare you well!

The different plagne of each calamity, I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.

K. Phi. Bind up those tresses! O, what lovel noto Eli. My blessing go with thee!

In the fair multitude of those her hairs ! K. John. For England, cousin:

Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,

Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Ascepter, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Do glew theinselves in sociable griei,

Mustbe as boisterously maintain'd, as gain'd:
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,

Andhe, that stands upon a slippery place, Sticking together in calamity.

Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. Const. To England, if you will!

That John may stand, then Arthur needs mnst fall; K. Phi. Bind up your hairs !

So beit, for it cannot be but so. Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I doit? Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud, Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch, your wife, O that these hands could so redeem my son,

May then make all the claim, that Arthur did. As they have given these hairs their liberty!

Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. But now I envy at their liberty,

Pand. How green are you,and fresh in this old world! And will again commit them to their bonds,

John lays you plots, the times conspire with you ; Because my poor child is a prisoner.

For he, that steeps his safety in true blood,
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,

Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue.
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven, This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;

Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, That none so small advantage shall step fortlı,
To him, that did but yesterday suspire,

To check his reign, but they will cherish it.
There was not such a gracious creature born. No natural exhalation in the sky,
But now will canker sorrow cat my bud,

No scape of nature, no distemper'd day,
Aud chase the native beauty from his cheek,

No common wind, no customed event, And he will look as hollow, as a ghost,

But they will pluck away his natural cause, As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,

And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, And so he'll die, and, rising so again,

Abortives, présages, and tongues of heaven, When I shall meet him in the Court of heaven

Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. I shall not know him. Therefore never, never Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life, Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
Pand. You hold ton heinous a respect of grief. Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
Const. Hetalks to me, that never had a son.

If that young Arthur be not gone already,
K. Phi. You are as foud of grief, as of your child. Even at that news he dies : and then the hearts
Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Of all his people shall revolt from him,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change,
Pats on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath,
Remembers ine of all his gracious parts,

Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. Stuff's out his vacant garments with his form. Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot, Then, hare' reason to be fond of grief.

And, o, what better matter breeds for you, Fare you well! Had yon such a loss, as I,

Than I have nam’d! – The bastard Faulconbridge I could give better comfort, than you do.

Is now in England, ransacking the church, I will not keep this form upon my head,

Offending charity. If but a dozen French [Tearing off her heud-dress. Were there in arms, they would be as a call When there is such disorderiu my wit,

To train ten thousand English to their side,
O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!

Or, as a little snow, tumbled abont,
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure ! [Exit. Go with me to the king! 'Tis wonderful,

K. Phi.I fear someontrage, and I'll follow her. (Exit. What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Lew.There's nothing in this world, can make me joy: Now that their souls are topfull of offence,
Life is as tedious, as a twice-told tale,

For England go! I will whet on the king.
Vexing the dullearofa drowsy ma;

Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions. Let us go! And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. (Exeunt. That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness.

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of rep:ir and health,

Аст The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave,

SCENE I. Northampton. A room in the castle. On their departure most of all show evil.

Enter HUBERT and two Attendants. What have you lost by losing of this day?

Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou stand Lew. Alldays of glory, joy, and happiness. Within the arras! when I strike my foot Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had. Upou the bosom of the ground, rush forth, No, 10 : when fortune means to men most good, And bind the boy, which yon shall find with me, She looks upou them with a threatening eye.

Fast to the chair! be heedful! hence, and watch! 'Tis strange, to think, how much king john hath lost 1 Attend. I hope,your warrant will bear out the deed. In this, which he accounts so clearly won.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look to't! Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner?

(Exeunt Attendants. Lew. As heartily, as he is glad, he hath him. Young lad, come forth! I have to say with you. Pand. Your mind is all as youthful, as your blood.

Inter ARTHUR. Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit!

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert !
For even the breath of what I mean to speak,

Hub. Good morrow, little prince !
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
Out of the path, which shalldirectly lead

To be more prince,) as may be. — You are sad.
Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark! Ilub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be,

Arth. Mercy on me!
That, whiles warm life plays in tha :infant's veins, Methinks, nobody should be sad, but I;
The misplac'd John should evtertain an hour, Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.

Young gentlemen would be as sad, as pight,





do me.


Only for wantonness. By my christendom,

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,

Whatever torment you do put me to. I should be as merry, as the day is long.

Hub. Go, stand within ; let me alone with him! And so I would be here, but that I doubt,

1 Altend. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. My uncle practises more harm to me.

[Exeunt Attendants. Ile is afraid of me, and I of him:

Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend;
Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's son ?

He hath a stern look, but'a gentle heart.
No, indeed, is't not. And I would to heaven, Let him come back, that his compassion may
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

Give life to yours.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself!
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:

Arth. Is there no remedy?
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. (Aside. Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day. Arth. O heaven !- that there were but a mote in In sooth, I would you were a little sick;

yours, That I might sit all night, and watch with you: A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, I warrant, I love you more, than you

Any annoyance in that precious sense! Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Read here, young Arthur! (Showing a paper.] How Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. now, foolish rheum!

(Aside. Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your tongue! Turning dispiteous torture out of door!

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace ostongues I must be brief, lest resolution drop

Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes.
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. - Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert
Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?

Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. So I may keep minc eyes! 0, spare mine eyes!

with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Though to no use, but still to look on you! Hub. Young boy, I must.

Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold, Arth. And will you?

And would not harm me. Hub. And I will.

Hub. I can heat it, boy. Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did but Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, ake,

Being create for comfort, to be us’d Ikuit my handkerchief about your brows,

In undesery'd extremes. See else yourself; (The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)

There is no malice in this burning coal;
And I did never ask it you again;

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And with my hand at midnight held your head, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time,

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief? And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert; Or, What good love may I perform for you? Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes, Mauy a poor man's son would have lain still, Aud, like a dog, that is compellid to fight, And 'ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;

Snatch at his master, that doth tarre him on.
But you at your sick service had a prince.

All things, that you should useto do me wrong,
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love, Deny their office: only you do lack
And call it cunning; do, an if you will:

That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends,
If heaven be pleas'd, that you must use me ill, Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking ases.
Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? Hub. Well, see to live! I will not touch thine cyes
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,

For all the treasure, that thine uncle owes : So much as frown on you ?

Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, Hub. I have sworn to do it;

With this same very iron to burn them out. And with hot irons must I burn them ont.

Arth. (, now you look like Hubert! all this while Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it! You were disguised. The iron of itself, though heat red-hot,

Hub. Peace! no more. Adieu ! Approaching nearthese eyes, would drink my tears, Your uncle must not know but you are dead. And queneh his fiery indignation.

I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. Evenin the matter of mineinnocence;

And, pretry child, sleep doubtless, and secure, Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Butfor containing fire to harm mine eye.

Will not oflend thee.
Are you more stubborn-hard, than hammer'diron? Arth. O heaven! - I thank you, Hubert.
An if an angel should have come to me,

Hub. Silence; no more! Go closely in with me! And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes, Much danger do I undergo for thee. (Exeunt. I would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's. SCENE II. The same. Aroom of state in the palace. Hub. Come forth!

(Stamps. Enter King John, crowned; PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, Re-enter Attendants, with cords, irons, ete. and other Lords. The king takes his state. Do as I bid you do.

K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd,
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me!my eyes are out, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. Pem. This once again, but that your highuess pleas'd,
Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here! Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before,
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous-rough? And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off,
I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Fresh expectation troubled not the land,
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away, With any long'd-for change, or better state.
And I will sit as quiet, as a lamb;

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, I will not stir, nor wince, norspeak a word,

To guard a title, that was rich before, Nor look upon the iron angerly:

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,

To throw a perfame on the violet,

The suit, which you demand, is gone and dead. To smooth the ice, or add another hue

He tells us, Arthuris deceas'd to-night Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

Sal. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Pem. Indeed, we heard, how near his death he was, Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.

Before the child himself felt, he was sick. Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done, This must be answer'd either here, or hence. This act is as an ancient tale new told,

K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? And, in the last repeating, troublesome,


I bear the shears of destiny?
Being urged at a time unseasonable.

Have I commandment on the pulse of life?
Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face Sal. It is apparent foul-play, and 'tis shame,
Of plain old form is much disfigured,

That greatness should so grossly offer it.
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,

So thrive it in your game! and so farewell!
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury! I'll go with thee,
Startles and frights consideration,

And find the inheritance of this poor child,
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, His little kingdom of a forced grave.
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.

That blood, which ow'd the breath of all this isle, Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well, Three foot of it doth hold : bad world the while! They do confound their skill in covetousness : This must not be thus borne: this will break out And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault,

To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse;

[Exeunt Lords. As patches, set upon a little breach,

K. John. They burn in indignation ; I repent; Discredit more, in hiding of the fault,

There is no sure foundation set in blood, Than did the fault, before it was so patch'd.

No certain life achiev'd by others' death. -
Sal.To this effect, before you were new-crown'd,

Enter a Messenger.
We breath'd our counsel: but it pleas'd your highness A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood,
To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd;

That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?
Since all and every part of what we would,

So foula sky clears not withont a storm:
Doth make a stand at what your highness will. Pour down thy weather ! - How goes all in l'rance?

K.John. Some reasons of this double coronation Mess. From France to England. Never such a
I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; power
And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) For any foreign preparation,
Ishallindue you with: mean time, but ask

Was levied in the body of a land !
What you would have reform'd, thatis not well; The copy of your speed is learn’d by them;
And well shall you perceive, how wiilingly

For, when you should be told, they do prepare,
I will both hear and grant you your requests.

The tidings come, that they are all arriv’d. Pem. Then I (as one that am the tongue of these, K. John. 0, where hath our intelligence been drunk? To sound the purposes of all their hearts,)

Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care? Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all,

That such an army could be drawn in France, Your safety, for the which myself and them

And she not hear of it? Bend their best studies,) heartily request

Mess. My liege, her ear The enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint

Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent Your noble mother, and, as I hear, my lord, To break into this dangerous argument;

The lady Constance in a frenzy died If, what in rest you have, in right yon hold,

Three days before: but this from ramour's tongue Why then yonr fears, (which, as they say, attend I idly heard ; if true, or false, I know not. The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up K. John. Withholdthy speed, dreadful occasion ! Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days

0, make a league with me, till I have pleas’d With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth My discontented peers!— What! mother dead ? The rich advantage of good exercise?

How wildly then walks my estate in France !That the time's enemies may not have this

Under whose conduct came those powers of France, To grace occasions, let it be our suit,

That thou for truth giv'st out, are landed liere? That you have bid us ask hisliberty;

Mess. Under the Dauphin. Which for our goods we do no further ask,

Enter the Bastard, and Peter of Pomfret. Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, K. John. Thou hast made me giddy Counts it your weal, he have his liberty.

With these ill tidings. - Now, what says the world K. John. Let it be so! I do commit his youth To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff Enter HuberT.

My head with more ill news, for it is full. To your

direction. -Hubert, what news with you? Bast. But if you be afeard to hear the worst, Pem. This is the man, should do the bloody deed; Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head! He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine.

K.John. Bear with me, cousin! for I was amaz'd The image of a wicked heinous fault

Under the tide: but now I breathe again Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his

Aloft the flood, and can give audience Does show the mood of a much troubled breast; To any tongue, speak it of what it will. And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done,

Bast. Ilow I have sped among the clergymen, What we so fear'd he had a charge to do.

The sums I have collected shall express. Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, But, as I travelled hither through the land, Between his purpose and his conscience,

I find the people strangely fantasied, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set.

Possess’d with rumours, full of idle dreams, His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.

Not knowing, what they fear, but full of fear : Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence And here's a prophet, that I brought with me The foulcorruption of a sweet child's death.

From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand :- With many hundredstreading on his heels, Good lords, although my will to give is living, To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes,

That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon,

Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns Your highness should deliver up your crown. More upon humour, than advis'd respect. K. John. Thou idle dreamer,wherefore didst thou so? Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. Peter. Foreknowing, that the truth will fall out so. K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and K. John. Hubert, away with him! Imprison him,

earth And on that day at noon, whereon, he says,

Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal I shall yield up my crown, let him be haug’a!

Witness against us to damnation ! Deliver him to safety, and return,

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, For I must use thee. - O my gentle cousin,

Makes deeds ill done! Hadest not thou been by, (Exit Hubert, with Peter. A fellow hy the hand of nature mark’d, Hear’st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd ? Quoted, and signed, to do a deed of shame, Bast. The French, my lord; men’s mouths are full This murder had not come into my mind. ofit.

But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, (With eyes as red, as new-enkindled fire,)

Apt, liable, to be employ’d in danger, And others more, going to seek the grave

I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death, Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night

And thou, to be endeared to a king, On your suggestion.

Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. K. John. Gentle kinsman, go,

Hub. My lord, And thrust thyself into their companies !

K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a I have a way to win their loves again;

pause, Bring them before me!

When I spake darkly, what I purposed, Best. I will seek them out.

Or turn’d an eye of doubt upon my face K.John. Nay,but make haste; the better foot before. As bid me tell my tale in express words, 0, let me have no subject enemies,

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, When adverse foreigners affright my towns

And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!

But thou didst understand me by my signs,
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels,

And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
And fly, like thought, from them to me again! Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. And, consequently, thy rude hand to act

(Exit. The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. K. John. Spoke, like a spriteful noble gentleman.- Out of my sight, and never see me more! Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need

My nobles leave me, and my state is brav'd, Some messenger betwixt me and the peers;

Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers, And be thou he!

Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,
Mess. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit. This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
K. John. My mother dead!

Hostility and civiltumult reigns
Re-enter HUBERT,

Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to- Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, night;

I'll make a peace between your soul and you : Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about

Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine The other four, in wond'rous motion.

Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,
K. John. Five moons ?

Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.
Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets Within this bosom never enter'd yet
Do prophesy upon it dangerously:

The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,

Arthur's death is common in their mouths : And you have slander'd nature in my form,
And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
And whisper one another in the ear;

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind,
And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist, Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action,

K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers,
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. Throw this report on their incensed rage,
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,

And make them tame to their obedience!
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,

Forgive the comment, that my passion made
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news, Upon thy feature! for my rage was blind,
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, And foul imaginary eyes of blood
Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste Presented thee more hideous, than thon art.
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet)

0, answer not, but to my closet bring Told of a many thousand warlike French,

The angry lords, with all expedient haste! That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent.

I conjure thee but slowly, run more fast! (Exeunt. Another lean unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.

SCENE III. –The same. Before the castle. K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these

Enter ARTHUR, on the walls. fears?

Arth. The wall is high; and yet will I leap dowa. Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not ! Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had mighty cause There's few, or none, to know me; if they did, To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. Hub. Had none, my lord! why, did you not provoke I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it.

If I get down, and do not break my limbs, K. Iohn. It is the curse of kings, to be attended

I'll find a thousand shifts to get away: By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant, As good to die, and go, as die, and stay. (Leaps down. To break within the bloody house of life,

Ome! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :And, on the winking of authority,

Heaven, take my soul, and England keep my bones! To understand a law, to know the meaning


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