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

Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? You have beheld,
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 savag'ry, the vileft stroke,
That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage,
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.

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 sins of time;
And

prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle.

Faulc. 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;
9 The practice, and the purpose, of the king :-
I'rom 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,

p the glaive-the sword.

9 The praftics,]--contrivance, plor.

'Till I have set a glory to this hand,

[Laying hold on one of Arthur's. By giving it the worship of revenge. Pemb, Bigot. Our souls religiously confirm thy words.

Enter Hubert.

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

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

Hub. I am no villain.
Sal. Must I rob the law ? [Drawing bis sword.
Fault, Your sword is bright, fir ; put it up again.
Sal. Not 'till I sheath it in a murderer's skin.

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,
Not

tempt the danger of my true defence; Les I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.

Bigot. Out, dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a nohlenian!

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.

Pemb. Cut him to pieces.
Faulc. Keep the peace, I say.
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you, Faulconbridge.
Faulc. Thou wert better gaul the devil, Salisbury :

' fet a glory to this band,]-rendered it famous, by the exemplary vengeance I shall take on the perpetrators of this foul deed.

true defence ;]-proper, able, skilful ; in a juft cause.

! Do not prove me lo;]-put me to this dangerous proof of my innecence ;--by provoking me to kill you.

.

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. .

Bigot. What wilt thou 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 seem
Like rivers of remorse and innocency.
Away, with me, all you whose fouls abhor
The uncleanly savours of a Naughter-house 3
For I am ftified with this smell of fin.

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

[Exeuni). 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.

Faulc. Ha ! I'll tell thee what ; Thou art damn'd so 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 soul -

Faulc.

Faulc. 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't thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stile 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,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me !
I left him well.

Faulo. Go, bear him in thine arms.
I am amaz'd, methinks; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.
How easy dost thou take all England up!
From forth this morsel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left
To cug, and scamble, and to part by the teeth
The "un-owed interest of proud-swelling state.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes

of

peace : Now powers from home, and discontents at honie, Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast) * The imminent decay of wrested pomp. feramble.

un-owed]-having 10 proper owner. * The imminent decay of wrested pomp.)-The speedy deitruction of a priace, whose crown is on the point of being wrefted from him.

Now

W

? 3

Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempeft. Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed ; I'll to the king :
A thousand businesses are a brief in hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

[Exeunt.

A CT 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.

[Giving up the crown.
Pand. Take again
From this my hand, as holding of the pope,
Sovereign your greatness and authority.
K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet thự

French;
And from his holiness use all your power
To stop their marches, 'fore we are infiam'd.
Our discontented counties do revolt;
Our people quarrel with obedience ;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of foul,
To stranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of mistemper'd humour
Rests by you only to be qualify'd.
Then pause not ; for the present time's so fick,
That present medicine must be ministered,
Or overthrow incurable ensues.

Pand, Įc was my breath that blew this tempest upz
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope :

y cleak and cineure]-garments.
* brief in band, in hand, and als despatch.

But

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