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But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say,+But let it go :
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,"
To give me audience:—If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy-thick,
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;)
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit” alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But ah, I will not:—Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.
Hui. So well, that what you bid me under-

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Hub. My lord?

K. John. A grave.

Hub. He shall not live.
K. John. Enough.

I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I’ll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember.—Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.

Eli. My blessing go with thee!

K. John. For England, cousin:
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty.—On toward Calais, ho!


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Look, who comes here ! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:—
I pr’ythee, lady, go away with me.
Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace!
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
Comst. No, I defy" all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:–0 amiable lovely death .
Thou odoriferous stench : sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy détestable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household worms;
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st,
And buss thee as thy wife Misery's love,
O fair affliction,

O, come to me !
K. Phi. ace.
Const. No, no, I will not, having to it, :-
0, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth.
Then with a passion would I shake the world;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern" invocation.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so;
I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not mad;—I would to heaven, I were !
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
0, if I could, what grief should I forget !—
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal;
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliver'd of these woes
And teaches me to kill or hang myself;
If I were mad, I should forget my son;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: 0, what lovel


In the fair multitude of those her hairs?
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.

Const. To England, if you will.

K. Phi. Bind up your hairs.

Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud,
O that these hands could so redeem my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty
But now I envy at their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.—
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:

(5) Overcome. (6) Refuse. (7) Common.

If that be true, I shall see my boy again; for, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire," There was not such a gracious” creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost; As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, I shall not know him: therefore never, never Must I behold o pretty Arthur more. Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. Const. Grieffiils the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.— I will not keep this form upon my head, [Tearing off her head-dress. When there is such disorder in o wit. O lord ' my boy, my Arthur, my fair son : My life, my joy, my food, my as the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Erit. . Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll o Eirit. Letc. There's nothing in this world, can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought, but shame, and bitterness. . Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil: What have you lost by losing of this day 7 Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Pand. If you have won it, certainly you had. No, no: when fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 'Tis strange, to think how much king John hath lost In this which he accounts so clearly won : Are not you grieved, that Arthur is his prisoner? Lew. & heartily, as he is glad he hath him. Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be, That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: A sceptre, snatch'd with an unroy hand, Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd: And he, that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; So be it, for it cannot be but so. Lew. *** shall I gain by young Arthur's

a Pand. .." in the right of lady Blanch, your wiie, May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

(1) Breathe. (2) Graceful. (3) tapestry.

Letc. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world !

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you:
For he, that steeps his safety in true blood,
Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue.
This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal;
That none so small advantage shall step forth,
To check his reign, but they will cherish it:
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No 'scape of nature, no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, présages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

Lew. May be, he ...i not touch young Arthur's

lie But hold himself safe in his prisonment. Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your ap


Is that young Arthur be not gone already,
Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts
Of all his |...}. shall revolt from him,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change;
And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath,
Qut of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot;
And, Q, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have nam'd —The bestard Faulconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Qffending charity: If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain... O noble Dauphin,
Go with me to the king: 'Tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent:
Now that their souls are topsul of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the king.

Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: Let

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Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,

I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him:
Is it my fault that i was Geffrey's son?
No, indeed, is't not ; And I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch. [..?side.
.drth. Are you sick, Huberto you look pale to-

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Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at vour sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crasly love,
And call it cunning ; Do, an if you will :
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill,
Why, then you must.—Will you put out mine
eyes }

These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have sworn to do it; And with hot irons must I burn them out.

..?rth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes, would drink my


And quench his fiery indignation,
Pven in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are vou more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron?
An if an angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
is would not have believ'd no tongue, but Hubert's.

Hub. Come forth. [Stamps.

Re-enter.Attendants, with cord, irons, &c.

Do as I bid you do.

..Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes are out,

Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

(1) In cruelty I have not deserved.

Much danger do I undergo for thee.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. ..]rth. Alas, ,what need you be so boist’rous rough I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. 1.1ttend. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. Ereunt Jittendants. ..?rth. Alas! I then have chid away my friend; He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:Let him come back, that his compassion may o o to yours. C b ls. tub. ome, boy, prepare yourse .Arth. Is there no remedy” y, p Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. .irth. O heaven!—that there were but a more in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boist’rous there, Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. Hub. Is this your promise 1 go to, hold your


..?rth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace oftongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert Qr, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes; O, spare mine eyes; Though to no use, but still to look o ! Lo, by . troth, the instrument is cold, And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

./lrth. No." good sooth; the fire is dead with


Being create for comfort, to be us’d
In undeserv'd extremes: See else yourself;
There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew’d repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

..?rth. And is you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes; And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre” him on. All things, that you should use to do me wrong, Deny their office: only you do lack That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, Croatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine

eyes For all the treasures that thine uncle owes :Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. ..?rth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this while You were disguised. Hub. Peace: no wore. Adieu: Your uncle must not know but you are dead: I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure, That Hol. for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee. ...Arth. O heaven —I thank you, Hubert. Hub., Silence; no more: Go closely" in with me; [Ereunt (4) Secretly.

(2) Set him on. (3) Owns.

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K. John. Here once again we sit, once again


And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.

Pem. This once again, but that your highness


Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land,
With any long'd-sor change, or better state.

Sal. |...}. to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,”
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.

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.

Sul. In this, the antique and well-noted face
Qs plain old form is much disfigured:
o like a shifted wind unto a sail
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ;
Startles and frights consideration;
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected,

or putting on so new a fashion'd robe.

Prm. When workmen strive to do better than

Well They do confound their skill in covetousness :” And, ostentimes, excusing of a fault, both make the fault the wors. by the excuse; As patches, set upon a little breach, 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 highness To overhear it; and we are all well pleas'd; Since all and every part of what we would, Doth make a stand at what your highness will. K. John. Some reasons F. double coronation have possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong (when lesser is my fear,) !...hall indue you with: Meantime, but ask What you would have reform'd, that is not well; And well shall you perceive, how willingly I will both hear and grant you your requests. 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 Roth move the murmuring lips of discontent, To break into this dangerous argument, #. in rest vou have, in right you hold, hy 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 7 That the time's enemies may not have this o grace occasions, let it be our suit, That you have bid us ask his liberty,

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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

Enter Hubert.

our direction.—Hubert, what news with vou ? em. 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 Lives . eye; that close aspéct of his Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast; And I do fearfully believe, ’tis done, 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, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadsul battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break. 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, The suit which wooden and is gone and dead: He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night. Sal. Indeed, we sear'd, his sickness was past cure. Penn. Indeed we heard how near his death he 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? Sal. It is apparent soul play; and 'tis shame, That greatness should so grossly offer it: So thrive it in your game and so farewell! 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'do the breath of all this isle, Three foot of it doth hold; Bad world the while ! This must not be thus borne: this will break out To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. | Ereunt Lords. 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,
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks 7
So foul a o clears not without a storm :
Pour down thy weather:—How goes all in France?

JMess. From France to England.—Never such a


For any foreign preparation
was livied in the body of land!
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them;
For, when you should be told o do prepare,
The tidings come, that they are all arriv'd.

K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been

drunk 7

Where hath it slept 7 Where is my mother's care;
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it?


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K. John. Thou hast made me giddy With these ill tidings.—Now, what says the world To your proceedings 2 do not seek to stuff Mý with more ill news, for it is full. ast. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. K. John. Bear with me, cousin; for I was amaz'do Under the tide: but now I breathe again Aloft the flood; and can give audience To any tongue, speak it of what it will. Easi. How I have sped among the clergymen, The sums I have collected shall express. But, as I travelled hither through the land, I find the people strangely fantasied; Possess'd .. rumours, full of idle dreams; Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear: And here's a prophet, that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heels; To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Your highness should deliver up your crown. K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so 7 Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. K. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; And on that day, at noon, whereon he says I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: Deliver him to safety,” and return, For I must use thee.—O my gentle cousin, [Erit Hubert with Peter. Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it: Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, Wi. eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,) nd others more, going to seek the grave Qf Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night

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And thrust thyself into their companies:
I have a way to win their loves again;
Bring them before me.
ast. I will seek them out.
K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot
O, let me have no subject enemies,
When adverse foreigners affright my towns
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion 1–
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels;
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.
Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me §
K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentle-

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; and the fifth did whirl about

The other four, in wond’rous motion.

John. Five moons?
Old men, and bedlams,

in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously: Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer’s wrist; Whilst he, that hears, makes fearsul action, ... With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling

eyes. I saw a it. stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contráry feet,) Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embattled, and rank'd in Kent: Another lean unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears 2 Why urgest thou so of young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had mighly cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. Hub. Had none, my lord ' why, did you not provoke me? K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life: And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon humour than advis'd respect.” Hub. o is your hand and seal for what I

101. K. John. O, when the last account’twixt heaves and earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal Witness against us to damnation 1 How of the sight of means to do ill deeds, Makes deeds isi done ! Hadest not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, Quoted,” and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into my mind: But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspéct, Finding thee fit for bloody villany, Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger, I saintly broke with thee of Arthur’s death; And thou, to be endeared to a king, Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. Hub. My lord, K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, ot made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, As bid me tell my tale in express words; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break

O And those hy fears might have wrought fears in

ine : But thou didst understand me by my signs, And didst in signs again parley with sin; Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And, ...! thv rude hand to act The deed, which both our tongues held vile to

nanne.-Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me; and my state is brav'd,

(3) Deliberate consideration. (4) Observed.

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