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So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:
Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will
As dear be to thee as thy father was. [grief.
Arth. O, this will make my mother die with
K.John. Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for
England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots: angels imprisoned

Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon:

Use our commission in his utmost force.
Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive
me back;

When gold and silver becks me to come on. 1 leave your highness:-Grandam, I will pray (If ever I remember to be holy,)

For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.
Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.
K. John. Coz, farewell. [Erit Bastard.
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman: hark, a
word. [She takes ARTHUR aside.
K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O, my
gentle Hubert,

We owe thee much; within this wall of fresh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love;
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,-
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed
To say what good respect I have of thee.
Hub. I am mnch bounden to your majesty.
K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause
to say so yet;
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er to
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
1 had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, and the prond day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
1s all too wanton, and too full of gawest,
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

And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Hlad baked thy blood, and made it heavy,
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;)

Though that my death were adjunct to my By heaven, I'd do't.

K. John. Do not I know, thou wouldst ?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On you young boy: I'll tell thee what, my
He is a very serpent in my way; [friend,
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
And I will keep him so,

That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death.

K. John. Hub.

K. John.

My lord?
A grave.

He shall not live. 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!

SCENE IV. The same. The French King's Tent.

Enter King PHILIP, Lewis, PANDULPH, and Attendants.

K.Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armado of convicted ¶ sail Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well. [run so ill? K. Phi. What can go well, when we have Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain?


And bloody England into England gone, O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:

So hot a speed with such advice disposed, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard, Of any kindred action like to this?

K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,

So we could find some pattern of our shame. Enter CONSTANCE,

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; Holding the eternal spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath:I prithee, lady, go away with me. Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace! [Constance!

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort,gentle
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; Const. No, I defy ** all counsel, all redress,
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: Death, death:-O amiable lovely death!
But, ah, I will not :-Yet I love thee well; Thou odoriferons stench! sound rottenness!
And, by my troth, I think, thou lovest me well. Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Hub. So well, that what you bid me under-Thon hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy détestable bones;


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And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome
And be a carrion monster like thyself: [est,
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil.
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
O, come to me!

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K. Phi.

O, fair affliction, peace. Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:[mouth! O, that my tongue were in the thunder's hen with a passion would I shake the world; Aud rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation. [sorrow. Pand, Lady, you utter madness, and not 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 niad ;-I would to heaven, I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget!Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canonized, 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 sou; Ör 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; O, what love In the fair multitude of those her hairs! [I note 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 Englard, if you will. K. John.

Bind up your hairs. Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?

I tore them from their bonds and cried alond,
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 hea-
If that be true, I shall see my boy again; [ven;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male
To him that did but yesterday suspiret, [child,
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 my pretty Arthur more. [grief.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of

• Common.

Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of

your child..

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent
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 my wit.
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure,



K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. Lew. There's nothing in this world can make Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, [ine joy : Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, {ness. That it yields nought, but shame, and bitterPand. Before the curing of 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?

Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you

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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,

John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be, That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,

The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest:
A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly 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 Johu may stand, then Arthur needs must
So be it, for it cannot be but so.

Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? [your wife, Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch May then make all the claim that Arthur did. Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did,

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Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world! [you: John lays you plots; the times conspire with 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 tongnes of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life,

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

If that young Arthur be not gone already,

Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change;
And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath,
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks, I see this horly all on foot;
And, O, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have named!-The bastard Faulcon-

Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Offending 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 topfull of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the king.

Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions:
Let us go;

If you say,ay, the king will not say,no. [Exeunt.

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SCENE I. Northampton. A Room in the That I might sit all night, and watch with you:

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• Within the arras*: when I strike my foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth: And bind the boy, which you shall find with me, Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch. 1 Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look to't. [Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter ARTHUR.

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little prince. Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince) as may be.-You are sad. Hub: Indeed, I have been merrier. Arth. Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 1 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. [Aside. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day:

In sooth, I would you were a little sick;

I warrant, I love you more than you do me, Hub His words do take possession of my bosom.

Read here, young Arthur. [Shewing a paper.
How now, foolish rheum! [Aside
Turning dispiteous torture out of door!
I must be brief, lest résolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.-
Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mineeyes? Hub. Young boy, I must.



And will you?

And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,)
And I did never ask it you again:
And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time;
Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your


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 your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning; do, an if you will:
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,
Why, then you must.-Will you put out mine

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

I have sworn to do it;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would
The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, [do it!
• Tapestry.

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Re-enter Attendants, with Cord, Irons, &c. Do as I bid you do. [eyes are out, Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. [rough? Arth. Alas, what need you be so boist'ronsI 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 Whatever torment you do put me to. [him. Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with 1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed. [Exeunt Attendants.

Arth. 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
Give life to yours.

Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?
None, but to lose your eyes.
Arth. O heaven!-that there were but a
mote in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair,
Any annoyance in that precious sense! [there,
Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:
Let me not hold my tongue; let me not,

your tongue.


Or, 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 on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.

I can heat it, boy.
Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with
Being create for comfort, to be used [grief,
In undeserved 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,
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it

In cruelty I have not deserved.



And glow with shame of your proceedings,

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,
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.

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

For all the treasure that thine uncle owest:
Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.
Arth. O, now, you look like Hubert! all this
You were disguised.
Peace: no more. 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 Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert.
Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely ý in
with me;

Much danger do Í 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 high

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

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double To guardy a title that was rich before, [pomp, 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 heavento garnish¶, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be This act is as an ancient tale new told; [done, And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time naseasonable.

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: Startles and frights consideration; Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.

Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well,

They do confound their skill in covetousness** : And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault,

+ Set him on.

i Owns. * Desire of excelling.

§ Secretly

Doth make the fault the worse 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-
We breathed our counsel: but it pleased your
To overbear it, and we are all well pleased;
Since all and every part of what we would,
Doth make a stand at what your highness will.
K. John. Some reasons of this double coro-
I have possess'd you with, and think them
And more, more strong, (when lesser is my

I shall indue you with: Mean time, 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

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 [straint
The enfranchisement+ of Arthur: whose re-
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,
The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew
Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich advantage of good exercise?
That the tin:e'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


To your direction.-Hubert, what news with
Pem. This is the man should do the bloody
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine:
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close aspect 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. [go,
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and
Between his purpose and his conscience,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set:
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.
Pem. And, when it breaks, I fear, will issue

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 snit which you demand is gone and dead:
He tells us, Arthur is deceased to night.
Sul. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past

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Pem. 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 ine?

Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life?
Sal. It is apparent foul-play ; and 'tis shame,
That greatne s should so grossly offer it:
So thrive it in your game! and so farewell.
Pem. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with

And find the inheritance of this peor child,
His little kingdom of a forced grave.
That blood, which ow'd the breath of all this
Three foot of it doth hold; Bad world the while!
This must not be thus borue: this will break out
To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt.

[Exeunt Lords

K. John. They burn in indignation; I re There is no sure foundation set on blood; [pent No certain life achieved by others' death. --Enter a Messenger.

A fearful eye thou hast; Where is that blood
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm:
Pour down thy weather:-How goes all in
[a powers

Mess. From France to England never such
For any foreign prepararion,
Was levied in the body of a land!
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them;
For, when you should be told they do prepare
The tidings come, that they are all arrived.

K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk?

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


My liege, her ear Is stopp'd with dust; the first of April, died Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord The lady Constance in a frenzy died [tongua Three days before: but this from rumour's I idly heard; if true or false I know not. [sion!

K.John. Withhold thy speed,dreadful occa O, make a league with me, till I have pleased My discontented peers!-What! mother dead? How wildly then walks my estate in France!Under whose conduct came those powers of France,

That thon for truth givest out, are landed here?
Mess. Under the Dauphin.
Enter the Bastard and PETER of POMFRET
K. John.
Thou hast made me giddy
With these ill tidings.-Now, what says the
To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff [world
My bead with more ill news, for it is full.

Bast. 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

amazed |

Under the tide: but now I breathe again Aloft the flood; and can give andieuce To any tongue, speak it of what it will. Stunned, confounded.

§ Force.

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