And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert. Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely in with me; Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. SCENE II. THE SAME. A ROOM OF STATE IN THE PALACE. Enter King John, crowned; Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lords. The king takes his state. K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. Pem. This once again, but that your highness pleas'd, Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told; And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable. Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured: And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about; Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness: And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse; Discredit more in hiding of the fault, Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, We breath'd our counsel: but it pleas'd your high ness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; F Pem. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purposes of all their hearts,) Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies,) heartily request The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break into this dangerous argument,— If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew up Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise? That the time's enemies may not have this To grace occasions, let it be our suit, That you have bid us ask his liberty; Which for our goods we do no further ask, Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. K. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth Το Enter Hubert. your direction.-Hubert, what news with you? Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed; He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: The image of a wicked heinous fault Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast; What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue thence The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: Good lords, although my will to give is living, Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past cure. was, Before the child himself felt he was sick: This must be answer'd, either here, or hence. K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? Think you, I bear the shears of destiny? Have I commandment on the pulse of life? Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee, And find the inheritance of this poor child, His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle, K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent; There is no sure foundation set on blood; No certain life achiev'd by others' death. Enter a Messenger. A fearful eye thou hast; Where is that blood, So foul a sky clears not without a storm: Pour down thy weather:-How goes all in France? Mess. From France to England.—Never such a power For any foreign preparation, Was levied in the body of a land! The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care? That such an army could be drawn in France, And she not hear of it? Mess. My liege, her ear Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd |