I'll make a peace between your soul and you.
Young Arthur is alive: This hand 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 thee to the peers,

Throw this report on their incensed rage,
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. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

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!

The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,] Nothing can be falser than what Hubert here says in his own vindication; for we find, from a preceding scene, the motion of a murd'rous thought had entered into him, and that very deeply; and it was with difficulty that the tears, the entreaties, and the innocence of Arthur had diverted and suppressed it. WARBURTON.

There's few, or none, do know me; if they did,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd 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 BIGOT.

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.

Pem. 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. Sal. 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'd3 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 attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where-e'er it walks:
Return, and tell him so; we know the worst.

Whose private, &c.] i. e. whose private account of the Dauphin's affection to our cause is much more ample than the letters. distemper'd-] i. e. ruffled, out of humour.

Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.

Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.1

Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pem. 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. Pem. 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 beheld,

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 ob

ject,

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 shame,

The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke,

That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.

Pemb. All murders past do stand excus'd in this:

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.

reason now.] To reason, in Shakspeare, is not so often

to argue, as to talk.

Bast. It 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,

Till I have set a glory to this hand,

By giving it the worship of revenge.

Pem. Big. Our souls religiously 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. Sal. 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, lord, forget yourself,

5 a holy vow;

Never to taste the pleasures of the world,] This is a copy the vows made in the ages of superstition and chivalry.

of

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! dar'st thou brave a noble-

man?

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 lov'd 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.

5 true defence;] Honest defence; defence in a good cause. 6 Do not prove me so;

Yet, I am none:] Do not make me a murderer, by compelling me to kill you; I am hitherto not a murderer.

7 Like rivers of remorse-] Remorse here, as almost every where in these plays, and the contemporary books, signifies pity.