The incenfe of a vow, a holy vow *;
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor converfant with eafe and idleness,
'Till I have fet a glory to this hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge'.

Pemb. Bigot. Our fouls religiously confirm thy words.

Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte in feeking you: Arthur doth live; the king hath fent for you.

Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death:Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!

a haly vow;

Never to taste the pleafures of the world,]

This is a copy of the vows made in the ages of fuperftition and chivalry. JOHNSON.

5

the worship of revenge.] The worship is the dignity, the honour. We ftill fay worshipful of magiftrates. JOHNSON. 'Till I have fet a glory to this band,

By giving it the worship of revenge.]

I think it should be-a glory to this head

Pointing to the dead prince, and ufing the word worship in its common acceptation. A glory is a frequent term:

"Round a quaker's beaver caft a glory,"

fays Mr. Pope: the folemn confirmation of the other lords feems to require this fenfe. The late Mr. Gray was much pleased with

this correction. FARMER.

The old reading feems right to me, and means,-'till I have famed and renowned my own hand by giving it the honour of revenge for fo foul a deed. Glory means fplendor and magnificence in faint Matthew, vi. 29. So, in Markham's Husbandry, 1631, p. 353: "But if it be where the tide is fcant, and doth no more but bring the river to a glory," i. e. fills the banks without overflowing. So, in act II. fc. ii. of this play:

"Oh, two fuch filver currents, when they join,

"Do glorify the banks that bound them in.”

A thought almoft fimilar to the prefent, occurs in Ben Jonson's Catiline, who, act IV. fc. iv. fays to Cethegus: "When we meet again we'll facrifice to liberty. Cet. And revenge. That we may praise our hands once !"

i. e. Oh! that we may fet a glory, or procure honour and praise, to our hands, which are the inftruments of action. TOLLET.

H 4

Hub.

Hub. I am no villain.

Sal. Muft I rob the law?

[Drawing his fword. Faule. Your fword is bright, fir; put it up again. Sal. Not 'till I fheath it in a murderer's fkin.

Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, ftand back, I fay; By heaven, I think, my fword's as fharp as yours: I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence" Left I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatnefs, and nobility.

Bigot. Out, dunghill! dar'ft thou brave a nobleman? Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor.

Sal. Thou art a murderer.

Hub. Do not prove me fo7;

Yet, I am none: Whofe tongue foe'er fpeaks falfe,
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.
Pemb. Cut him to pieces.

Fale. Keep the peace, I fay.

Sal. Stand by, or I fhall gaul you, Faulconbridge. Faulc. Thou wert better gaul the devil, Salisbury: If thou but frown on me, or ftir thy foot,

Or teach thy hafty fpleen to do me shame,
I'll ftrike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime;
Or I'll fo maul you and your toafting-iron,
That you fhall think the devil is come from hell.
Bigot. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge?
Second a villain, and a murderer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.

6 -true defence;] Honeft defence; defence in a good caufe.

7 Do not prove me fo;
Yet, I am none:

1

JOHNSON.

I am

Do not make me a murderer by compelling me to kill hitherto not a murderer. JOHNSON,

8

you;

your toafting-iron,] The fame thought is found in K. Hen. VI dare not fight, but I will wink and hold out mine iron. It is a fimple one, but what though? it will toaft cheese.”

STEEVENS.

Bigot. Who kill'd this prince?

Hub. 'Tis not an hour fince I left him well:
I honour'd him, I lov'd him; and will weep
My date of life out, for his fweet life's lofs.
Sal. Truft not thofe cunning waters of his eyes,
For villainy is not without fuch rheum;
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorfe and innocency.
Away, with me, all you whofe fouls abhor
The uncleanly favours of a flaughter-houfe;
For I am ftifled with this fmell of fin.

Bigot. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! Pemb. There, tell the king, he may enquire us out. [Exeunt lords.

Faulc. Here's a good world !-Knew you of this fair work?

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach

Of mercy, if thou didft this deed of death,

Art thou damn'd, Hubert.

Hub. Do but hear me, fir.

Faule. Ha! I'll tell thee what ;

Thou art damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black;
Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer:
9 There is not yet fo ugly a fiend of hell

As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub. Upon my foul,-

Faulc. If thou didft but confent

To this moft cruel act, do but defpair,

And, if thou want'ft a cord, the fmalleft thread
That ever fpider twisted from her womb

Will ferve to ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam

9 There is not yet &c.] I remember once to have met with a book, printed in the time of Henry VIII. (which Shakespeare poffibly might have feen) where we are told that the deformity of the condemned in the other world is exactly proportioned to the degrees of their guilt. The author of it obferves how difficult it would be, on this account, to distinguish between Belzebub and Judas Iscariot. STEEVENS.

To

ད

To hang thee on or, would'st thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it fhall be as all the ocean,

Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.-
I do fufpect thee very grievoufly.

Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought,
Be guilty of the ftealing that fweet breath
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms.

I am amaz'd, nethinks; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.
How eafy doft thou take all England up!
From forth this morfel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
To tug, and fcamble, and to part by the teeth.
The un-owed intereft of proud-fwelling state.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war briftle his angry creft,
And fnarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Now powers from home, and difcontents at home,
Meet in one line; and vaft confufion waits
(As doth a raven on a fick-fallen beast)
The imminent decay of wrefted pomp.
Now happy he, whofe cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempeft. Bear away that child,
And follow me with fpeed; I'll to the king:
A thousand bufineffes are brief in hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt.

3

The un-owed intereft] i. e. the interest which has no proper owner to claim it. STEEVENS.

2 The imminent decay of wrefted pomp.] Wrefted pomp is greatness obtained by violence. JOHNSON.

3

and cincture] The old copy reads-center, probably for ceinture. Fr. STEEVENS.

ACT

ACT V.

V. SCENE I

The court of England.

Enter King John, Pandulph, and attendants.

K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand

The circle of my glory.

Pand. Take again

[Giving up the crown.

From this my hand, as holding of the pope,

Your fovereign greatness and authority.

K. John. Now keep your holy word go meet the
French;

And from his holiness use all your power
To ftop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd.
Our difcontented counties do revolt;
Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of foul,
To ftranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of miftemper'd humour
Refts by you only to be qualify'd.

Then paufe not; for the prefent time's fo fick,

That prefent medicine must be ministred,

Or overthrow incurable enfues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempeft up,

Upon your stubborn ufage of the pope :

But, fince you are a gentle convertite *,

My tongue fhall hufh again this storm of war,

And make fair weather in your bluftering land.
On this Afcenfion-day, remember well,
Upon your oath of fervice to the pope,

Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [Exit.

a gentle convertite,] A convertite is a convert. So, in

Marlow's few of Malta, 1633: "No, governour, I'll be no convertite." STEEVENS.

K. John.