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A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Hub. My lord,
K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the Throw this report on their incensed rage, (peers, And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not; but to my closet bring The angry lords, with all expedient haste: I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—The same. Before the castle.
Enter ARTHUR, on the walls. 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. [Leaps down. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones : Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones ?
[Dies. Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund'sIt is our safety, and we must embrace [Bury: This gentle offer of the perilous time.
Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France;
Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.
· His private account, or letter to me.
Sal. Or, rather then set forward : for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or' e'er we meet.
Enter PHILIP. Phil. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! The king, by me, requests your presence straight.
Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of us; We will not line his thin bestained cloak 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. Phil. Whate'er you think, good words, I think,
were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now.
Phil. But there is little reason in your grief;
Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.
[Seeing ARTHUR. Pem. O, death, made proud with pure and princely The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. (beauty!
Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge.
Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave. (beheld,
Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you Or have you read, or heard? or could you think? Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? could thought, without this object, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savagʻry, the vilest stroke, That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, Presented to the tears of soft remorse.
The addition of ever,
'or, is here the same as ere, i.e. before. or e'er, is merely augmentative.
Pem. All murders past do stand excus'd in this :
Phil. It is a damned and a bloody work;
Sal. If that it be the work of any hand ?-
Enter HUBERT. Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. .
Sal. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death :-
Hub. I am no villain.
Must I rob the law ?
[Drawing his sword. Phil. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again.; Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murderer's skin.
A copy of the vows made in the ages of superstition and chivalry.
e honour, dignity.
Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as yours : I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
Big. Out, dunghill! dar’st thou brave a nobleman?
Hub. Not for my life: but yet I dare defend
Sal. Thou art a murderer.
Do not prove me so;' Yet, I am none:? Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly, lies.
Pem. Cut him to pieces.
Keep the peace, I say.
Phil. Thou wert better gall 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 toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain, and a murderer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. Big.
Who kill'd this prince?
Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
ii. e. By compelling me to kill you. ii. e. as yet I am no murderer.