Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.
Big.

Who killed this prince?
Hub. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well.
I honored him, I loved 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 villany 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 The uncleanly savors 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.
[Exeunt Lords.
Bast. Here's a good world!-Knew you of this fair

work?

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,

Art thou damned, Hubert.

Hub.

Do but hear me, sir.

Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what;

Thou art damned as black-nay, nothing is so black; Thou art more deep damned 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,

Bast.

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 would'st 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 imbounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Bast.
Go, bear him in thine arms.—
I am amazed,' methinks, and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.-
How easy dost thou take all England up:
From forth this morsel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm,
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
Το tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth
The unowed interest of proud-swelling state.
Now, for the bare-picked 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 cincture3 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.

1 i. e. confounded.

[Exeunt.

2 i. e. the interest which is not at this moment legally possessed by any On the death of Arthur, the right to the crown devolved to his sister Eleanor.

one.

3 Girdle.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Room in the Palace.

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

K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand

The circle of my glory.

Pand.

Take again

[Giving JOHN the crown.

From this my hand, as holding of the pope,

Your sovereign greatness and authority.

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 inflamed.
Our discontented counties' do revolt;

Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul,
To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of mistempered humor

Rests by you only to be qualified.

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

That present medicine must be ministered,

Or overthrow incurable ensues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, stubborn usage of the

Upon your

pope;

But, since you are a gentle convertite,

My tongue shall hush again this storm of war,
And make fair weather in your blustering land.
On this Ascension-day, remember well,

Upon your oath of service to the pope,

Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [Exit. K. John. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet

I Counties here most probably mean, not the divisions of the kingdom, but the lords and nobility in general.

2 Convert.

Say, that, before Ascension-day at noon,
My crown I should give off? Even so I have.
I did suppose, it should be on constraint;

But Heaven be thanked, it is but voluntary.

Enter the Bastard.

Bast. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds

out,

But Dover castle. London hath received,

Like a kind host, the dauphin and his powers.
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer service to your enemy;

And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends.

K. John. Would not my lords return to me again, After they heard young Arthur was alive?

Bast. They found him dead, and cast into the streets;

An empty casket, where the jewel of life,

By some damned hand was robbed and ta'en away.
K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did live.
Bast. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew.
But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad?
Be great in act, as you have been in thought;
Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust,
Govern the motion of a kingly eye.

Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire;
Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow
Of bragging horror; so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviors from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Away; and glister like the god of war,
When he intendeth to become the field:1
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence.
What, shall they seek the lion in his den,

1 Thus in Hamlet:

such a sight as this Becomes the field.”

And fright him there? and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said!-Forage,' and run

To meet displeasure farther from the doors;

And grapple with him, ere he come so nigh.

K. John. The legate of the pope hath been with

me,

And I have made a happy peace with him;
And he hath promised to dismiss the powers
Led by the dauphin.

Bast.

O inglorious league!
Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Send fair-play orders, and make compromise,
Insinuation, parley, and base truce,

To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy,
A cockered, silken wanton brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colors idly spread,

And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms.
Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your peace;
Or if he do, let it at least be said,

They saw we had a purpose of defence.

K. John. Have thou the ordering of this present

time.

Bast. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, Our party may well meet a prouder foe.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Plain, near St. Edmund's-Bury.

Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEмBROKE, BIGOT, and Soldiers.

Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out, And keep it safe for our remembrance.

1 Forage here seems to mean to range abroad; which Dr. Johnson says is its original sense; but fourrage, the French source of it, is formed from the low Latin, foderagium, food: the sense of ranging, therefore, appears to be secondary.

2 i. e. I know that our party is able to cope with one yet prouder, and more confident of its strength than theirs.