Imatges de pÓgina

With our pure honours, nor attend the foot

That leaves the print of blood where'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, 't were reason you had manners now.

PEM. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.

BAST. 'Tis true; to hurt his master, no man elsea.

SAL. This is the prison: What is he lies here?

PEM. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.

SAL. Murther, 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? You have 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,
Of murther's arms: this is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,

That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.
PEM. All murthers 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 times;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle.

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,

[Seeing ARTHUR.

No man else. Mr. Collier has found that in one copy of the original the reading is no man, in another no man's.

You have beheld. The third folio gives the reading which is generally adopted, of "Have you beheld?" We retain that of the original, which appears to mean-You see-or have you only read, or heard? Your senses must be so startled that you may doubt "you have beheld.”

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.



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HUB. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you:
Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for
SAL. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death:-
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
HUB. I am no villain.

Must I rob the law?
BAST. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again.
SAL. Not till I sheathe it in a murtherer'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,
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 nobleman?
HUB. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend

My innocent life against an emperor.

SAL. Thou art a murtherer.


Do not prove me so;

Yet, I am none: Whose tongue soe'er speaks false,
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.

PEM. Cut him to pieces.


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 murtherer?

HUB. Lord Bigot, I am none.

[Drawing his sword.

HUB. Tis not an hour since I left him well :

Who kill'd this prince?

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.
Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.
BIG. Away, toward Bury, to the dauphin there!
PEM. There, tell the king, he may inquire us out.

BAST. Here's a good world!-Knew you of this fair work?

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach

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BAST. Ha! I'll tell thee what;

Thou 'rt 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,-


If thou didst but consent

To this most cruel act, do but despair,

And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread

That ever spider twisted from her womb

Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be

A beam to hang thee on; or, wouldst thou drown thyself,

Put but 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.

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[Exeunt Lords.


Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
To tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth
The unow'd interest of proud-swelling state.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits,
As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.
Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed; I'll to the king:
A thousand businesses are brief in hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

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Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH with the Crown, and Attendants.

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From this my hand, as holding of the pope,

Your sovereign greatness and authority.

[Giving JOHN the crown.

K. JOHN. Now keep your holy word: go meet the French;

And from his holiness use all your power

To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd.
Our discontented counties a do revolt;

Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul,
To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of mistemper'd humour

Rests by you only to be qualified.

Then pause not; for the present time 's so sick,

That present medicine must be minister'd,

Or overthrow incurable ensues.

PAND. It was my breath that blew this tempest up,

• Counties-nobles. The reader will remember the County Paris, in 'Romeo and Juliet;' and County Guy, in Sir Walter Scott's ballad.

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