Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.
Within this bosom never enter'd yet

The dreadful motion of a murd'rer's thought.
And you have flander'd nature in my form,
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind,
Than to be butcher of a guiltless child.

K. John. Doth Arthur live? O hafte thee to the Peers,
Throw this report on their incenfed rage,
And make them tame to their obedience.
Forgive the comment that my paffion made
Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind,
And foul/imaginary eyes of blood

Presented thee more hideous than thou art.
Oh, answer not, but to my closet bring
The angry Lords with all expedient hafte :
I conjure thee but flowly; run more faft.

[Exeunt

SCENE V. A Street before a Prison.
Enter Arthur on the Walls, disguis'd.
Arth. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down.
Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not!
There's few or none do know me: if they did,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite.
I am afraid, and yet I'll venture it.
If I get down, and do not break my limbs,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away;
As good to die, and go; as die, and stay.
Oh me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones:
Heav'n take my foul, and England keep my bones!
Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot.
Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmondsbury;
It is our fafety, and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.

[Leaps down.

[Dies.

Pemb. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal ? Sal. The Count Melun, a noble Lord of France, * Whose Private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more than these gen'ral lines import. Bigot. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. i. e. Whose private account of the Dauphin's affection to our

caríc is much more ample than the letters.

Sal.

Sal. Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be Two long days journey, Lords, or ere we meet,

Enter Bastard.

Baft. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd Lords; The King by me requests your prefence strait.

Sal. The King hath dispoffeft himself of us; We will not line his thin bestained cloke 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. Baft. What e'er you think, good words I think were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Baft. But there is little reason in your grief, Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now, Pemb. Sir, Sir, impatience hath its privilege. Baft. 'Tis true, to hurt its master, no man else, Sal. This is the prison : what is he lyes here?

[Seeing Arthur. Pemb, Oh 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.

Bigot. Or when he doom'd this beauty to the glaive, 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 fee, What you do see ? could thought, without this object, Form fuch another? 'tis the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the creft Of murder's arms; this is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroak, That ever wall-ey'd wrath or staring rage Presented to the tears of soft remorse.

Found it too precious princely for a grave.

Pemb. 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 fins of Time;

And prove a deadly blood-shed but a jeft,

X 2

Ex

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.

Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?
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 foul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to this breathless excellence
The incenfe 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,
By giving it the worship of revenge.

Pemb. Bigot. Our fouls religiously confirm thy words
SCENE VI. Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you
Arthur doth live, the King hath fent for you.
Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death;

Avant, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
Hub. I am no villain.

Sal. Must I rob the law?

[Drawing bis Sword

Baft. Your sword is bright, Sir, put it up again.
Sal, Not 'till I sheath it in a murd'rer's skin.
Hub. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say,

By heav'n I think my sword's as sharp as yours.
I would not have you, Lord, forget your self,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget

Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.

Bigot. Out, dunghil, 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 murd'rer.

Hub. Do not prove me fo;

Yet, I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false,

Not truly speaks, who speaks not truly, lies,

Pemat

Pemb. Cut him to pieces.

Baft. Keep the peace, I fay.

Sal. Stand by, or

I shall gaul you, Faulconbridge.

Baft. Thou wert better gaul 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 tosting-iron,

That you shall think the devil is come from hell.

Bigot. What will you do, renowned Faulconbridge?

Second a villain, and a murderer?
Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.
Bigot. 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 feem
Like rivers of remorse and innocence.
Away with me, all you whose fouls abhor
Th' uncleanly favour of a flaughter-house,
For I am stifled with the smell of fin.

Bigot. Away tow'rd Bury, to the Dauphin there.
Pemb. There tell the King he may enquire us out.

SCENE VII.

[Exeunt Lords.

Baft. Here's a good world; knew you of this fair work?

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.

Baft. Ha? I'll tell thee what,

Thou'rt damn'd fo 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 foul

Baft. If thou didst but consent

To this moft cruel act, do but despair;

And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread
That ever spider twisted from her womb

Will strangle thee; a rush will be a beam

To hang thee on: or would'st thou drown thy self,

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 fin 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!
I left him well.

Baft. Go, bear him in thine arms.
I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this worlds
How eafie dost thou take all England up!
From forth this morsel of dead royalty
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Are fled to heav'n; and England now is left
To tug and scramble, and to part by th' teeth
The un-owed interest of proud-fwelling state.
Now for the bare-pickt bone of Majesty
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace.
Now pow'rs from home and discontents at home
Meet in one line and vast confufion waits
(As doth a raven on a fick, fall'n beaft)
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.
Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed; I'll to the King;
A thousand businesses are brief at hand,

And heav'n it self doth frown upon the land.

ACT V. SCENE I.

The Court of England.

[Exeunt.

Enter King John, Pandulph, and Attendants.

K. Jobn. T

HUS I have yielded up into your hand

The circle of my glory. [Giving the Crown.

Pand.