Enter the Bastard.

Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd* 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.

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, '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 savagery, the vilest stroke,

Out of humour.

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

Pem. 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 blood-shed 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.

hand?

Sal. If that it be the work of any
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 t,

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 fob the law?

[Drawing his sword.

• Pity.

+ Hand should be head; a glory is the circle of rays which surrounds the heads of saints in pictures.

Bast. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again.
Sul. 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,
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 murderer,

Do not prove me sot;

Hub. Yet, I am none: Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. Pem. Cut him to pieces.

Bast.

say.

Keep the peace, I
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.

• Honest.
+ Moisture.

+ By compelling me to kill you. Pity.

Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house,
For I am stified with this smell of sin.

Big. Away, toward Bury, to the dauphin there! Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us [Exeunt Lords. Bast. Here's a good world!-Knew you of this fair work?

out.

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach

Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,
Art thou damn'd, Hubert.

Hub.

Do but hear me, sir.

Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what;

Thou art 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,-

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 embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want pains enough to torture me!

1 left him well.

Bast.

Go, bear him in thine arms.

I am amaz'd*, methinks; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.-
How easy dost thou take all England up!

* Confounded.

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
To tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth
The unowed 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 cincturet can
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed; l'il to the king:
A thousand businesses are brief in hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The same. 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