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And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me:
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, consequently, thy rude hand to act
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name-
Out of my sight, and never see me more!
My nobles leave me; and my state is brav'd,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,

This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns

Between my conscience, and my cousin's death.
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you.

This hand of mine

Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,

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

The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,
And you have slander'd nature in my form;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

Young Arthur is alive.

K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the


Throw this report on their incensed rage,

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.




The Gates of a Castle.

Enter ARTHUR on the Walls of the Castle. Arth. The wall is high: and yet will I leap down: Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not; 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 SALISBURY, with Letters, PEMBROKE, and


Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmund's Bury; It is our safety, and we must embrace

This gentle offer of the perilous time.

Pem. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? Sal. Count Chatillon a noble lord of France; Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love, Is much more general than these lines import. Ess. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.


Faul. 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'll not attend the foot,

That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks:
Return, and tell him so; we know the worst.

Faul. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best,

Ess. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Faul. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege, Faul. "Tis true; to hurt his master, no man else. Sal. This is the prison:-What is he lies here? [Seeing ARTHUR. Pem. O 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.

Ess. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave.

Sal. Sir Richard, what think, you? Have you be-

Or have you read, or heard,-or could you think,-
Or do you almost think, although you see,
That you do see?-This is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,
That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.
Faul. 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
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 soul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to this breathless excellence
The incense 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 head,
By giving it the worship of revenge.

Pem. Our souls religiously confirm thy words.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you.

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

Sal. Must I rob the law?

[Draws his Sword. Faul. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. Sal. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. Hub. [Draws.] Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say;

By Heaven, I think my sword 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.

Sal. Out, dunghill! 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 murderer.

Hub. 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.


Faul. Keep the peace, I say.

Sal. Stand by; or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. Faul. 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.

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Sal. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain, and a murderer ?

Hub. Lord Salisbury, I am none.
Sal. 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.
Away, with
me, all you whose souls abhor
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.


Ess. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there!

[Exit ESSEX. Pem. There, tell the King, he may inquire us out.

[Exit PEMBROKE. Faul. 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:

Upon my soul,

Faul. If thou didst but consent

To this most cruel act, do but despair,

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

Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be

A beam to hang thee on; or, would'st thou drown thyself,

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 sin of thought, Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath, Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,

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