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The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood, of France. I had a thing to say,—But let it go :
K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
shalt turn

Attended with the pleasures of the world,
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy,

To give me audience :-If the midnight bell K. John. No more than he that threais -To arms Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, let's hie !

(Exeunt. Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;

If this same were a church-yard where we stand, SCENE II.-Tho same. Plains near Angiers. And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, Alarums; Excursions. Enter the Bastard, with

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; AUSTRIA's head.

(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins, Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, hot ;

And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
Some airy devil hovers in the sky,

A passion hateful to my purposes :)
And pours down mischief. Austria’s head, lie there; Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
While Philip breathes.

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Enter King JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT. Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
K. John. Hubert, keep this boy :-Philip, make Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words ;

Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, My mother is assailed in our tent,

I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
And ta'en, I fear.

But ah! I will not :-Yet I love thee well;
My lord, I rescu'd her;

And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well. Her highness is in safety, fear you not:

Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, But on, my liege; for very little pains

Though that my death were adjunct to my act, Will bring this labour to an happy end. (Eseunt. By heaven, I'd do't.

K. John.

Do not I know, thou would'st ? SCENE III.-The same.

Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye

Alarums ; Excursions ; Retreat. Enter King John, He is a very serpent in my way;

yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the Bastard, Hubert, and And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, Lords.

He lies before me: Dost thou understand me? K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay Thou art his keeper. behind, (TO ELINOR. Hub.

And I will keep him 80, So strongly guarded.—Cousin, look not sad: That he shall not offend your majesty.


K. John. Death. Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will


My lord ? As dear be to thee as thy father was.

K. John.

A grave. Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.


He shall not live. K. John. Cousin, to the Bastard,) away for Eng

K. John.

Enough. land; haste before :

I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee?
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee :
Of hoarding abbots; angels imprison's

Remember.- -Madam, fare you well:
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace

I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. Must by the hungry now be fed upon :

Eli. My blessing go with thee ! Use our commission in his utmost force. [back, K. John.

For England, cousin: Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me Hubert shall be your man, attend on you When gold and silver becks me to come on. With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho! I leave your highness :-Grandam, I will pray

[Eceunt. (If ever I remember to be holy,) For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.

SCENE IV.-The same. The French King's Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.

Tent. K. John.

Coz, farewell.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, PANDULPH, and (Exit Bastard.

Attendants. Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word.

(She takes ARTHUR aside. K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle A whole armado of convicted sail Hubert,

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. We owe thee much : within this wall of flesh

Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well. There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,

K. Phil. What can go well, when we have run so And with advantage means to pay thy love:

ill? And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath

Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost? Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain ? Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, - And bloody England into England gone, But I will fit it with some better time.

O'erbearing interruption, spite of France ? By heaven, Hubert, I ain almost asham'd

Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortifie? : To say what good respect I have of thee.

So hot a speed with such advice dispos’d, Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say Doth want example: Who hath read or heard, so yet:

Of any kindred action like to this ? (praise, But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so slow, K. Phil. Well could I bear that England had this Yet it sball come, for me to do thee good,

So we could find some pattern of our shame.


And he will look as hollow as a ghost;

As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,

When I shall meet him in the court of heaven In the vile prison of afflicted breath :

I shall not know him : therefore never, never I pr’ythee, lady, go away with me.

Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace ! Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle

Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. Constance !

K. Phil. You are as fond of grief, as of your Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,

child. But that which ends all counsel, true redress,

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Death, death :-O amiable lovely death!

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Thou hate and terror to prosperity,

Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; And I will kiss thy detestable bones;

Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. And put my eye balls in thy vaulty brows; Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, And ring these fingers with thy household worms ; I could give better comfort than you do. And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, I will not keep this form upon my head, And be a carriva monster like thyself:

[ Tearing off her head-dress Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smilöst, When there is such disorder in my wit. And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,

O lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son !
O, come to me!

My life, my joy, my food, my all the world !
K. Phi.
O fair affliction, peace.

My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure ! [Erit. Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry :- K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth?

[Erit. Then with a passion would I shake the world; Lew. There's nothing in this world can make me And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,

joy: Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Which scorns a modern invocation.

Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. And bitter shame hath spoild the sweet world's taste, Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so;

That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness. I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine:

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife ; Even in the instant of repair and health, Young Arthi my son, and he is lost :

The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, I am not mad;-1 would to heaven, I were ! On their departure most of all show evil: For then, 'tis like I should forget myself :

What have you lost by losing of this day ? 0, if I could, what grief should I forget !

Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Preach some philosophy to make me mad,

Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had. And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal;

No, no: when fortune means to men most good, For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,

She looks upon them with a threatening eye, My reasonable part produces reason

'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost How I may be deliver'd of these woes,

In this which he accounts so clearly won : And teaches me to kill or hang myself :

Are you not griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner ? If I were mad, I should forget my son;

Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him. Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:

Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. I am not mad; too well, too well I feel

Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit; The different plague of each calamity;

For even the breath of what I mean to speak K. Phi. Bind up those tresses : 0, what love I note Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, In the fair multitude of those her hairs !

Out of the path which shall directly lead Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be, Do glew themselves in sociable grief;

That, whiles warm life plays in that infaut's veins, Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,

The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, Sticking together in calamity.

One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: Const. To England, if you will.

A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
K. Phi.

Bind up your hairs. Must be as boisterously maintain'à as gain'd:
Const. Yes, that I will; And wherefore will I do it? And he, that stands upon a slippery place,
I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud. Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up:
O that these hands couli so redeem my son,

That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; As they have given these hairs their liberty!

So be it, for it cannot but be so.

(fall ? But now I envy at their liberty,

Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's And will again commit them to their bonds,

Pand. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your Because my poor child is a prisoner.

And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven : Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;

Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child,

world! To him that did but yesterday suspire,

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you There was not such a gracious creature born. For he, that steeps his safety in true blood, But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,

Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. And chase the native beauty from his cheek, This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts



Let him come back, that his compassion may To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Give life to yours.

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

Come, boy, prepare yourself To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Arth. Is there no remedy?

Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. Hub.

None, but to lose your eyes. Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done Arth. O heaven !--that there were but a mote in This act is as an ancient tale new told ; yours,

And, in the last repeating, troublesome, A grain, å dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,

Being urged at a time unseasonable.

1 Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there, Of plain old form is much disfigured; Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. [tongue. And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,

Hub. Is this your promise ? go to, hold your It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about;

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Startles and frights consideration; Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes ; Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not, Hubert ! For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. (well, Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,

Pem. When workmen strive to do better thuc So I may keep mine eyes; 0, spare mine eyes; They do confound their skill in covetousness : Though to no use, but still to look on you !

And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault, Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,

Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse; And would not harm me.

As patches, set upon a little breach, Hub.

I can heat it, boy. Discredit more in hiding of the fault, Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. grief,

Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, Being create for comfort, to be us'd

We breath'd our counsel : but it pleased your highIn undeserv'd extremes : See else yourself; There is no malice in this burning coal;

To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd; The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, Since all, and every part of what we would, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.

Doth make a stand at what your highness will. Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy: K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush, I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: And more, more strong, (when lesser is my fear,) Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes ; I shall indue you with : Mean time, but ask And, like a dog that is compelled to fight,

What you would have reform’d, that is not well; Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. And well shall you perceive, how willingly All things, that you should use to do me wrong, I will both hear and grant you your requests. Deny their office : only you do lack

Pem. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these, That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, To sound the purposes of all their hearts,). Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. (eyes Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all,

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine Your safety, for the which myself and them For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :

Bend their best studies,) heartily request Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,

The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint With this same very iron to burn them out. Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent

Arth. O, now you look like Hubert ! all this while To break into this dangerous argument,-. You were disguised.

If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, Hub.

Peace : no more. Adieu ; Why then your fears, (which, as they say, attend Your uncle must not know but you are dead : The steps of wrong,, should move you to mew up I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, The rich advantage of good exercise ? Will not send thee.

That the time's enemies may not have this

O heaven !- I thank you, Hubert. To grace occasions, let it be our suit,
Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely in with me. That you have bid us ask his liberty ;
Much danger do I undergo for thee. | Ereunt. Which for our goods we do no further ask,
SCENE II.-The same. A Room of State in the Counts it your weal, he have his liberty:

Than wherenpon our weal, on you depending,

K. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth. Enter King JOHN, crowned ; PEMBROKE, SALIS

Enter HUBERT. BURY, and other Lords. The King takes his State.

To your direction.—Hubert, what news with you? K. John. Here once again we sit, once again Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed ; crown'd,

He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine:
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. The image of a wicked heinous fault
Pem. This once again, but that your highness Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his

Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast;
Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before, And I do fearfully believe 'tis done,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off ; What we so feard he had a charge to do.
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;

Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go, Fresh expectation troubled not the land,

Between his purpose and his conscience, With any long'd-for change, or better state.

Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: Sal. Therefore, to be possess’d with double pomp, His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. [thence To guard a title that was rich before,

Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue To gild refined gold, to paint the lily.

The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. (hand : To throw a perfume on the violet,

K, Luhn We cannot hold mortality's strong

on me ?

Good lords, although my will to give is living, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear:
The suit which you demand is gone and dead : And here's a prophet, that I brought with me
He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night.

From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past cure. With many hundreds treading on his heels;
Pem. Indeed, we heard how near his death he To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes,

That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Before the child himself felt he was sick:

Your highness should deliver up your crown. This must be answer'd, either here or hence.

K. John. Thou idle dreainer, wherefore didst K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows

thou so?

Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?

K. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him • Have I commandment on the pulse of life ? And on that day at noon, whereon, he says,

Sal. It is apparent foul play; and 'tis shame I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: That greatäess should so grossly offer it:

Deliver him to safety, and return,
So thrive it in your game! and so farewell. For I must use thee.-0 my gentle cousin,
Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee,

(Exit HUBERT, with PETER. And find the inheritance of this poor child, Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd ? His little kingdom of a forced grave.

Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths are That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle,

full of it: Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while ! Besides, I met Lord Bigot, and Lord Salisbury This must not be thus borne: this will break out (With eyes as red as new-enkindled e), To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt.

And others more, going to seek the grave

(Exeunt Lords. Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night K. John. They burn in indignation ; I repent; On your suggestion. There is no sure foundation set in blood;

K. John.

Gentle kinsman, go, No certain life achiev'd by others' death.

And thrust thyself into their companies :
Enter a Messenger.

I have a way to win their loves again;

Bring them before me. A fearful eye thou hast. Where is that blood,


I will seek them out That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ? So foul a sky clears not without a storm :

K. John. Nay, but make haste : the better fu. Pour down thy weather :-How goes all in France ? o, let me have no subject enemies,

before.Mess. From France to England. - Never such a When adverse foreigners affright my towns

power For any foreign preparation,

With dreadful pomp of stout invasion !Was levied in the body of a land !

Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels ;

And fly, like thought, from them to me again. The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; For, when you should be told they do prepare,

Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed,

Edit The tidings come, that they are all arrivd. (drunk ? K. John. o, where hath our intelligence been go after him for he, perhaps, shall need

K. John, Spoke like a spriteful noble gentleman. Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care ?

Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
That such an army could be drawn in France,

And be thou he.
And she not hear of it?

My liege, her ear

With all my heart, my liege. Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died

(Exit Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord,

K. John. My mother dead ! The Lady Constance in a frenzy died

Re-enter HUBERT. Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were I idly heard; if true, or false, I know not.

to-night: K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion !

Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd

The other four, in wond'rous motion. My discontented peers !—What! mother dead ?

K. John. Five moons ? How wildly then walks my estate in France !

Hub. Old men, and beldains, in the streets Under whose conduct came those powers of France, Do prophesy upon it dangerously : That thou for truth giv'st out, are landed here?

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths . Mess. Under the Dauphin.

And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, Enter the Bastard and PETER of Pomfret. And whisper one another in the ear; K. John.

Thou hast made me giddy And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; With these ill tidings.-Now, what says the world Whilst he, that bears, makes fearful action, To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. My head with more ill news, for it is full.

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, Bast But, if you be afeard to hear the worst,

The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news;

K. John. Bear with me, cousin; for I was amaz'd Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Under the tide : but now I breathe again

Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste Aloft the flood; and can give audience

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet), To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

Told of a many thousand warlike French, Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen,

That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent: The sums I have collected shall express.

Another lean unwash'd artificer But, as I travelled hither through the land, Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. I find the people strangely fantasied;

K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me Pussess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams;

these fears?


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