Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. Hub. My lord, K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head," or made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: But thou didst understand me by my signs, And didst in signs again parley with sin; And, consequently, thy rude hand to act The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more! This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 9 Hadst thou but shook thy head, &c.] There are many touches of nature in this conference of John with Hubert. A man engaged in wickedness would keep the profit to himself, and transfer the guilt to his accomplice. These reproaches, vented against Hubert, are not the words of art or policy, but the eruptions of a mind swelling with a consciousness of a crime, and desirous of discharging its misery on another. This account of the timidity of guilt is drawn ab ipsis recessibus mentis, from the intimate knowledge of mankind, particularly that line in which he says, that to have bid him tell his tale in express words, would have struck him dumb; nothing is more certain than that bad men use all the arts of fallacy upon themselves, palliate their actions to their own minds by gentle terms, and hide themselves from their own detection in ambiguities and subterfuges. I'll make a peace between your soul and you. The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,' 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, Presented thee more hideous than thou art. 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, [Leaps down. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones:- bones! [Dies. Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund's- It is our safety, and we must embrace Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? 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. 2 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.4 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 object, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, 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; Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?- 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:- 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 of the vows made in the ages of superstition and chivalry. |