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He is a very serpent in my way;

And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: dost thou understand me?

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I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember.-Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
K. John. For England, cousin, go:
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho!
SCENE

The French Court.

IV.

5

Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smilʼst,
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
Oh, come to me!

K. Phil. Oh fair affliction, peace.

Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:
Oh, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
10 Which scorns a modern3 invocation.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sor-
Const. Thou art unholy to belie me so; [row.
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife;
15 Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not mad;-I would to heaven, I were !
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
Oh, if I could, what grief should I forget!-
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
[Exeunt. 20 And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal;
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliver'd of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself:
25 If I were mad, I should forget my son;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
K. Phil. Bind up those tresses: Oh, what lovel
30 In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends *
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulph, and Attendants.
K. Phil. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado of collected sail

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. [well.
Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go
K. Phil. What can go well, when we have run
so ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta'en prisoner! divers dear friends slain?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'er-bearing interruption, spite of France?

Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd: 35 Sticking together in calamity.

So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd,

Such temperate order in so fierce 1 a cause,

Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard

Of any kindred action like to this?

will.

Const. To England, if you
K. Phil. Bind up your hairs.

[note

[do it? Const. Yes, that I will: And wherefore will I

I tore them from their bonds; and cry'd aloud,

K. Phil. Well could I bear that England had 40 "Oh that these hands could so redeem my son,

this praise,

So we could find some patterns of our shame.

Enter Constance.

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath :-
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.

Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace!
K. Phil. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
Constance!

2

Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:-Oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy houshold worms
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself:

"As they have giv'n these hairs their liberty!" But now I envy at their liberty,

And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
45 And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male-child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire',
50 There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek.
And he will look as hollow as a ghost;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit:

55 And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

60

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. K. Phil. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 1 Fierce here means sudden, hasty. 2 i. e. I refuse. 'Modern here implies, as has been before remarked in other plays, trite, common. *The old copy reads wiry fiends. 'i. e. breathe. i. e. graceful.

2

Const.

Act 4. Scene 1.]

KING JOHN.

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reasou to be fond of grief.
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than
I will not keep this form upon my head,

you

do.

So be it, for it cannot be but so.
Lewis. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's
fall?

Pand. You in the right oflady Blanch your wife, 5 May then make all the claim that Arthur did. Lewis. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur diri.

Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old world!

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you: [Tearing off her head-dress. 10 For he, that steeps his safety in true blood',

When there is such disorder in my wit.
O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son !
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Exit.
K. Phil. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.

[Exit.

15

Lewis. There's nothing in this world can make
[me joy:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
[taste,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's 20
That it yields nought, but shame, and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all shew evil :
What have you lost by losing of this day?

Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had.
No, no: when fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
'Tis strange, to think how much king John hath lost
In this which he accounts so clearly won:
Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner?
Lewis. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him.
Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.
Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark.
John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be,
That while warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
Que minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest:
A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd:
And he, that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up:
That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall

Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue.
This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal;
That none so small advantage shall step forth,
To check his reign, but they will cherish it:
No natural exhalation in the sky,

No scape of nature', no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

Lewis. May be, he will not touch young Ar
thur's life,

25 But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
Pand. O,sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,
Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
30 And kiss the lips of unacquainted change;
And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath,
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot;
And, O, what better matter breeds for you,
Than I have nam'd!--The bastard Faulconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Offending charity: If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,

35

40

Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
Go with me to the king; 'Tis wonderful
What may be wrought out of their discontent:
Now that their souls are top-full of offence,
45 For England go; I will whet on the king.
Lewis. Strong reasons make strong actions:---
Let us go;

If you say, ay, the king will not say, no.

[Exeunt.

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Within the arras: when I strike my foot

60

Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth;
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me,
Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.
Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the
deed.

to't.

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you look [Exeunt Executioners. Young lad, coine forth; Thave to say with you.

1 Meaning, the blood of him that has the just claim.

2

The author very finely calls a monstrous Enter birth, an escape of nature; as if it were produced while she was busy elsewhere, or intent on some other thing.

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Arth. Mercy on me!

Methinks, nobody should be sad, but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him:

Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?
No, indeed, is't not; And I would to heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate,
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. [Aside.
Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale
to-day:

Even in the matter of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing tire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'diron!
5 An if an angel should have come to me,

10

And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him; no tongue, but
Hubert's [Hubert stamps, and the men enter.
Hub. Come forth; do as I bid you do.
Arth. O, save me, Hubert, save me! my eyes
are out,

Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
Arth. Alas, what need you be so boistrous-rough?
15 I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!
Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,
20 Nor look upon the iron angerly:
Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

25

In sooth, I would you were a little sick;
That I might sit all night, and watch with you:
I warrant, I love you more than you do me.
Hub. Hiswords do take possession of my bosom.-
Read here, young Arthur [Shewing a paper.
How now, foolish rheum!
[Aside. 30
Turning dispiteous torture out of door?
I must be brief; lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.-
Can you not read it? is it not fair writ ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect:

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
Hub. Young boy, I must.

Arth. And will you?

Hub. And I will.

Hub. Go, stand within; let me alone with him.
Exec. Ian best pleas'd to be from such a deed.
[Exeunt.
Arth. Alas, I then have chid away my friend;
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart :-
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. [in yours,
Arth. O heaven!-that there were but a mote
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

35 Any annoyance in that precious sense!
Then, feeling what small things are boistrous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.
Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold your
tongue.

Arth. Have you the heart? When your head 40 Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues

did but ake,

I knit my handkerchief about your brows,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me)
And I did never ask it you again:

And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon chear'd up the heavy time;
Saying, What lack you? and, Where lies your grief?
Or, What good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor inan's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you;
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it, cunning: Do, an if you will:
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,
Why,then you must.-Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?

Hub. I have sworn to do it;

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ay, none, but in this iron age, would do it! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, Approaching near these eyes,would drink iny tears, And quench his fiery indignation,

Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:
Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert!
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,
So I may keep mine eyes; O, spare mine eyes:
45 Though to no use, but still to look on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,
And would not harm me.

[grief,

Hub. I can heat it, boy. Arth. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with 50 Being create for comfort, to be us'd

155

In undeserv'd extremes: See else yourself;
There is no malice in this burning coal;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head.

Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush,
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert:
Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in your eyes;
And, like a dog, that is compell'd to fight,
60 Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on.
All things, that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office; only you do lack

That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.
Hub.

Hub. Well, see to live: I will not touch thine eye]
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes* :
Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.
Arth. O, now you look like Hubert! all this 5
You were disguised.
[while

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu;
Your uncle must not know but you are dead:
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure,
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

I have possess'd you with, and think them strong;
And more, more strong (when lesser is my fear)
I shall endue you with: Mean time, but ask
What you would have reform'd, that is not well;
And well shall you perceive, how willingly
I will both hear, and grant you your requests.
Pemb. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of these,
To sound' the purposes of all their hearts)
Both for myself and them (but, chief of all,
10 Your safety, for the which myself and them
Bend their best studies) heartily request
The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent
To break into this dangerous argument:-
If, what in rest you have, in right you hold,
Why then your fears (which, as they say, attend
The steps of wrong) should move you to mew up
Your tender kinsman, and to choak his days
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth
The rich advantage of good exercise?
That the time's enemies may not have this
To grace occasions, let it be our suit,
That you have bid us ask his liberty;
Which for our goods we do no further a k,
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending,
Counts it your weal, he have his liberty.

Arth. O heaven!-I thank you, Hubert.
Hub. Silence; no more: Go closely in with me;
Much danger do I undergo for thee. [Exeunt. 15
SCENE II.

The Court of England.

Enter King John, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other lords.

K. John. Here once again we sit, once again 20 crown'd,

And look'd upon, I hope, with chearful eyes.
Pemb. This once again, but that your highness
pleas'd,

Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, 25
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land
With any long'd-for change, or better state.

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, 30
To guard' a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.

Pemb. But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told;
And, in the last repeating, troublesome,
Being urged at a time unseasonable.

Sal. In this, the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured:
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,

It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about;
Startles and frights consideration;

Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.

(well,

Pemb. When workmen strive to do better than They do confound their skill in covetousness2: And, oftentimes, excusing of a fault

Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse;
As patches, set upon a little breach,
Discredit more in hiding of the fault,
Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.

Sal. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd,
Webreath'dour counsel: butit pleas'd yourhighness
To over-bear it; and we are all well pleas'd;
Since all and every part of what we would,
Must make a stand at what your highness will.
K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation]

* i. e. owns.

K. John. Let it be so; I do commit his youth
Enter Hubert.

To your direction.-Hubert, what news with you?
Pemb. This is the man should do the bloody
deed;

He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine:
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye: that close aspect of his
35 Does shew the mood of a much troubled breast;
And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done,
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do.

Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go,
Between his purpose and his conscience*,
40 Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set':
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.

45

50

55

60

Pemb. And, when it breaks, I fear will issue
thence

The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.
K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong
hand:-

Good lords, although my will to give is living,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead;
He tells us, Arthur is deceas'd to-night.

Sal. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure.
Pemb. Indeed, we heard how near his death he
was,

Before the child himself felt he was sick:
This must be answer'd, either here, or hence.
K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows

on me?

Think you, I bear the shears of destiny?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life?

Sal. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame,
That greatness should so grossly offer it:-
So thrive it in your game! and so farewel.

To guard, is to fringe. i. e. not by their avarice, but in an eager emulation, an intense desire of excelling. i. e. to declare, to publish. * i. e. between his consciousness of guilt, and his design to conceal it by fair professions. 1i. e. placed.

Dd2

Pemb

Pemb. Stay yet, lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee,
And find the inheritance of this poor child,
His little kingdom of a forced grave.

That blood, which ow'd the breadth of all this isle,
Three foot of it doth hold; Bad world the while!
This must not be thus borne: this will break out
To all our sorrows, and ere long, I doubt. [Exeunt.
K. John. They burn in indignation; I repent:
There is no sure foundation set on blood;
No certain life atchiev'd by others' death.-
Enter a Messenger.

A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood,
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm:
Pour down thy weather:-How goes all in France?
Mes. From France to England.-Never such a
From any foreign preparation,
[power
Was levy'd in the body of a land!
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them;
For, when you should be told they do
The tidings come, that they are all arriv'd. [drunk?]
prepare,
K. John. O, where hath our intelligence been
Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care;}
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it?

Mes. My liege, her ear

Is stopt with dust; the first of April, dy'd
Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord,
The lady Constance in a frenzy dy'd

Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue
I idly heard; if true or false, I know not.

K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion!
O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd
My discontented peers!--What! mother dead?
How wildly then walks my estate in France?---
Under whose conduct came those powers of France,
That, thou for truth giv'st out, are landed here?
Mes. Under the Dauphin.

Enter Faulconbridge and Peter of Pomfret.
K. John. Thou hast made me giddy
With these ill tidings.-Now, what says the world
To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news, for it is full.

Faule. But if you be afeard to hear the worst,
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.
K. John. Bear with me, cousin; for I was amaz'd
Under the tide: but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood; and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

5

K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst
thou say so?
[so.

Peter. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out
K.John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him;
And on that day at noon, whereon, he says,
I shall yield up iny crown, let him be hang'd:
Deliver him to safety, and return,

For I must use thee.-O my gentle cousin,
[Exit Hubert, with Peter.
10 Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd?
Faulc. The French, my lord; men's mouths
are full of it:

Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury,
(With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire)

15 And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night
On your suggestion.

K. John. Gentle kinsman, go,
And thrust thyself into their companies:
20I have a way to win their loves again;
Bring them before me.

Faulc. I will seek them out.

[before.

K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot
O, let me have no subject enemies,

25 When adverse foreigners affright my towns
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!.
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels;
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.
Faulc. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
[Exit.
K.John.Spokelikea sprightful noble gentleman.
Go after him; for he, perhaps, shall need
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers;
And be thou he.

30

35

Mes. With all my heart, my liege.

K. John. My mother dead!

Re-enter Hubert.

[Exit.

[to-night:

Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about

40 The other four, in wond'rous motion.

K. John. Five moons?

Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets
Do prophesy upon it dangerously:

Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths: 45 And when they talk of him they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear;

And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist;
Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
50I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a taylor's news;
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,
Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste
55 Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet')
Told of a many thousand warlike French,
That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent:
Another lean unwash'd artificer

Faule. How I have sped among the clergymen,
The sums I have collected shall express.
But, as I travell'd hither through the land,
I find the people strangely fantasy'd;
Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams;
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear:
And here's a prophet, that I brought with me
From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
With many hundreds treading on his heels;
To whom he sung in rude harsh-sounding rhines, 60
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon,
Your highness should deliver up your crown.

1i. e. into custody.

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.
K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with
these fears?

Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?

2 From this we are to infer, that some shoes of those times could only be worn on that foot for which they were made.

Thy

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