Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

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3.4 Enter King Philip, Louis the Dauphin, Cardinal Pandolf, and attendants

KING PHILIP

So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,

A whole armada of convicted sail

Is scattered and disjoined from fellowship.

PANDOLF

Courage and comfort; all shall yet go well.

KING PHILIP

What can go well when we have run so ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angers lost,

Arthur ta‘en prisoner, divers dear friends slain,

And bloody England into England gone,

O’erbearing interruption, spite of France?

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

What he hath won, that hath he fortified. 10

So hot a speed, with such advice disposed,

Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,

Doth want example. Who hath read or heard

Of any kindred action like to this?

KING PHILIP

Well could I bear that England had this praise, 15

So we could find some pattern of our shame.

Enter Constance, distracted, with her hair about her ears

Look who comes here! A grave unto a soul,

Holding th’eternal spirit against her will

In the vile prison of afflicted breath.—

I prithee, lady, go away with me. 20

CONSTANCE

Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace!

KING PHILIP

Patience, good lady; comfort, gentle Constance.

CONSTANCE

No, I defy all counsel, all redress,

But that which ends all counsel, true redress:

Death, Death, O amiable, lovely Death! 25

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 eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, 30

And ring these fingers with thy household worms,

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,

And be a carrion monster like thyself.

Come grin on me, and I will think thou smil’st,

And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love, 35

O, come to me!

KING PHILIP O fair affliction, peace I

CONSTANCE

No, no, I will not, having breath to cry.

O, 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,

Which scorns a modern invocation.

PANDOLF

Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.

CONSTANCE

Thou art not holy to belie me so.

I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;

My name is Constance; I was Geoffrey’s wife;

Young Arthur is my son; and he is lost.

I am not mad; I would to God I were,

For then ’tis like I should forget myself.

O,if I could, what grief should I forget ! 50

Preach some philosophy to make me mad,

And thou shalt be canonized, Cardinal.

For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,

My reasonable part produces reason

How I may be delivered of these woes, 55

And teaches me to kill or hang myself.

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. 60

KING PHILIP

Bind up those tresses. O,what love I note

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 glue themselves in sociable grief, 65

Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,

Sticking together in calamity.

CONSTANCE

To England, if you will.

KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs.

CONSTANCE

Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it?

I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud,

‘O that these hands could so redeem my son,

As they have given 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. 75

She binds up her hair

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, 80

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,

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.

PANDOLF

You hold too heinous a respect of grief.

CONSTANCE

He talks to me that never had a son.

KING PHILIP

You are as fond of grief as of your child.

CONSTANCE

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 reason to be fond of grief.

Fare you well. Had you such a loss as I,

I could give better comfort than you do. 100

⌈She unbinds her hair⌉

I will not keep this form upon my head

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, 104

My widow-comfort, and my sorrow’s cure! Exit

KING PHILIP

I fear some outrage, and I’ll follow her. Exit ⌈attended⌉

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

There’s nothing in this world can make me joy.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;

And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet world’s taste,

That it yields naught but shame and bitterness. 111

PANDOLF

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 show evil. 115

What have you lost by losing of this day?

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

All days of glory, joy, and happiness.

PANDOLF

If you had won it, certainly you had.

No, no; when Fortune means to men most good,

She looks upon them with a threat‘ning eye.

’Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost

In this which he accounts so clearly won.

Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

As heartily as he is glad he hath him.

PANDOLF

Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. 125

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 seized Arthur, and it cannot be

That whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins

The misplaced John should entertain an hour,

One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.

A sceptre snatched with an unruly hand

Must be as boisterously maintained as gained;

And he that stands upon a slipp’ry place

Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall;

So be it, for it cannot be but so.

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s fall?

PANDOLF

You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife,

May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.

PANDOLF

How green you are, and fresh in this old world 145

John lays you plots; the times conspire with you;

For he that steeps his safety in true blood

Shall find but bloody safety and untrue.

This act, so vilely 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 scope of nature, no distempered day,

No common wind, no customèd event, 155

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.

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

Maybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life,

But hold himself safe in his prisonment.

PANDOLF

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,

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 170

Than I have named! The Bastard Falconbridge

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, 175

Or as a little snow tumbled about

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. 180

For England, go! I will whet on the King.

LOUIS THE DAUPHIN

Strong reasons make strange actions. Let us go.

If you say ay, the King will not say no. Exeunt

4.1 Enter Hubert, and Executioners with a rope and irons

HUBERT

Heat me these irons hot, and look thou stand

Within the arras. When I strike my foot

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! 5

EXECUTIONER

I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

HUBERT

Uncleanly scruples: fear not you. Look to’t!

⌈The Executioners withdraw behind the arras⌉

Young lad, come forth, I have to say with you.

Enter Arthur Duke of Brittaine

ARTHUR

Good morrow, Hubert.

Good morrow, little Prince.

ARTHUR

As little prince, having so great a title 10

To be more prince, as may be. You are sad.

HUBERT

Indeed I have been merrier.

ARTHURMercy 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 15

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. 20

He is afraid of me, and I of him.

Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?

No, indeed is’t not, and I would to God

I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

HUBERT (aside)

If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 25

He will awake my mercy, which lies dead;

Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.

ARTHUR

Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today.

In sooth, I would you were a little sick,

That I might sit all night and watch with you. 30

I warrant I love you more than you do me.

HUBERT(aside)

His words do take possession of my bosom.

He shows Arthur a paper

Read here, young Arthur. (Aside) How now: foolish

rheum,

Turning dispiteous torture out of door?

I must be brief, lest resolution drop

Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.

(To Arthur) Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

ARTHUR

Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect.

Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

HUBERT

Young boy, I must.

ARTHUR And will you?

HUBERTAnd I will. 40

ARTHUR

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache

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 cheered 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 man’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, 55

Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes,

These eyes that never did, nor never shall,

So much as frown on you?

HUBERTI have sworn to do it,

And with hot irons must I burn them out.

ARTHUR

Ah, none but in this iron age would do it. 60

The iron of itself, though heat red hot,

Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears,

And quench his fiery indignation

Even in the matter of mine innocence;

Nay, after that, consume away in rust,

But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?

An if an angel should have come to me

And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,

I would not have believed him; no tongue but

Hubert’s.

Hubert stamps his foot

HUBERT

Come forth!

The Executioners come forth

Do as I bid you do.

ARTHUR

O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out

Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

HUBERT (to the Executioners)

Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.

He takes the iron

ARTHUR

Alas, what need you be so boisterous-rough?

I will not struggle; I will stand stone-still.

For God’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, 80

Nor look upon the iron angerly.

Thrust but these men away, and I’ll forgive you,

Whatever torment you do put me to.

HUBERT (to the Executioners)

Go stand within. Let me alone with him.

EXECUTIONER

I am best pleased to be from such a deed. 85

Exeunt Executioners

ARTHUR

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.

HUBERT Come, boy, prepare yourself.

ARTHUR

Is there no remedy?

HUBERT None but to lose your eyes. 90

ARTHUR

O God, that there were but a mote in yours,

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense,

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. ₉₅

HUBERT

Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue!

ARTHUR

Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues

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, 100

So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes,

Though to no use but still to look on you.

Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold

And would not harm me.

HUBERT I can heat it, boy.

ARTHUR

No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with grief, 105

Being create for comfort, to be used

In undeserved extremes. See else yourself.

There is no malice in this burning coal;

The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,

And strewed repentant ashes on his head. II0

HUBERT

But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

ARTHUR

An 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 compelled to fight,

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.

HUBERT

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.

ARTHUR

O, now you look like Hubert. All this while

You were disguised.

HUBERT 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.

ARTHUR O God! I thank you, Hubert.

HUBERT

Silence, no more. Go closely in with me.

Much danger do I undergo for thee. Exeunt

4.2 ⌈flourish.⌉ Enter King John, the Earls of Pembroke and Salisbury, and other lords. King John ascends the throne

KING JOHN

Here once again we sit, once again crowned,

And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.

PEMBROKE

This ‘once again’, but that your highness pleased,

Was once superfluous. You were crowned before,

And that high royalty was ne‘er plucked off,

The faiths of men ne’er stained with revolt;

Fresh expectation troubled not the land

With any longed-for change or better state.

SALISBURY

Therefore to be possessed with double pomp,

To guard a title that was rich before, 10

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.

PEMBROKE

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.

SALISBURY

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 fashioned robe.

PEMBROKE

When workmen strive to do better than well,

They do confound their skill in covetousness;

And oftentimes excusing of a fault

Doth make the fault the worser by th’excuse;

As patches set upon a little breach

Discredit more in hiding of the fault

Than did the fault before it was so patched.

SALISBURY

To this effect: before you were new-crowned

We breathed our counsel, but it pleased your

highness

To overbear it; and we are all well pleased,

Since all and every part of what we would

Doth make a stand at what your highness will.

KING JOHN

Some reasons of this double coronation

I have possessed you with, and think them strong.

And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear

I shall endue you with. Meantime but ask

What you would have reformed that is not well,

And well shall you perceive how willingly

I will both hear and grant you your requests.

PEMBROKE

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

Your safety, for the which myself and them

Bend their best studies, heartily request

Th’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, 55

Why then your fears—which, as they say, attend

The steps of wrong—should move you to mew up

Your tender kinsman, and to choke 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 ask

Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, 65

Counts it your weal he have his liberty.

Enter Hubert

KING JOHN

Let it be so. I do commit his youth

To your direction.—Hubert, what news with you?

He takes Hubert aside

PEMBROKE

This is the man should do the bloody deed:

He showed his warrant to a friend of mine. 70

The image of a wicked heinous fault

Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his

Does show the mood of a much troubled breast;

And I do fearfully believe ’tis done

What we so feared he had a charge to do. 75

SALISBURY

The colour of the King doth come and go

Between his purpose and his conscience,

Like heralds ’twixt two dreadful battles set.

His passion is so ripe it needs must break.

PEMBROKE

And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence 80

The foul corruption of a sweet child’s death.

KING JOHN (coming forward)

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 deceased tonight.

SALISBURY

Indeed we feared his sickness was past cure.

PEMBROKE

Indeed we heard how near his death he was,

Before the child himself felt he was sick.

This must be answered, either here or hence.

KING JOHN

Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? 90

Think you I bear the shears of destiny?

Have I commandment on the pulse of life?

SALISBURY

It is apparent foul play, and ’tis shame

That greatness should so grossly offer it.

So thrive it in your game; and so, farewell.

PEMBROKE

Stay yet, Lord Salisbury; I’ll go with thee,

And find th’inheritance of this poor child,

His little kingdom of a forced grave.

That blood which owed the breadth of all this isle

Three foot of it doth hold. Bad world the while. 100

This must not be thus borne. This will break out

To all our sorrows; and ere long, I doubt.

Exeunt Pembroke, Salisbury, ⌈and other lords ⌉

KING JOHN

They burn in indignation. I repent.

There is no sure foundation set on blood,

No certain life achieved by others’ death. 105

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?

MESSENGER

From France to England. Never such a power

For any foreign preparation

Was levied in the body of a land.

The copy of your speed is learned by them,

For when you should be told they do prepare,

The tidings comes that they are all arrived.

KING JOHN

O, where hath our intelligence been drunk?

Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s ear,

That such an army could be drawn in France,

And she not hear of it?

MESSENGER My liege, her ear

Is stopped with dust. The first of April died

Your noble mother. And as I hear, my lord,

The Lady Constance in a frenzy died

Three days before; but this from rumour’s tongue

I idly heard; if true or false I know not.

KING JOHN

Withhold thy speed, dreadful Occasion;

O, make a league with me till I have pleased

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?

MESSENGER

Under the Dauphin.

Enter the Bastard and Peter of Pomfret

KING JOHN Thou hast made me giddy

With these ill tidings. (To the Bastard) Now, what says

the world

To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff

My head with more ill news, for it is full.

BASTARD

But if you,be afeard to hear the worst, 135

Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.

KING JOHN

Bear with me, cousin, for I was amazed

Under the tide; but now I breathe again

Aloft the flood, and can give audience

To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

BASTARD

How I have sped among the clergymen

The sums I have collected shall express.

But as I travelled hither through the land,

I find the people strangely fantasied,

Possessed 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 rhymes,

That ere the next Ascension Day at noon 151

Your highness should deliver up your crown.

KING JOHN

Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?

PETER OF POMFRET

Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.

KING JOHN

Hubert, away with him! Imprison him,155

And on that day, at noon, whereon he says

I shall yield up my crown, let him be hanged.

Deliver him to safety, and return,

For I must use thee.

Exeunt Hubert and Peter of Pomfret

O my gentle cousin,

Hear’st thou the news abroad, who are arrived? 160

BASTARD

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,

And others more, going to seek the grave

Of Arthur, whom they say is killed tonight

On your suggestion.

KING JOHN Gentle kinsman, go

And thrust thyself into their companies.

I have away to win their loves again.

Bring them before me.

BASTARD I will seek them out.

KING JOHN

Nay, but make haste, the better foot before.

O, let me have no subject enemies

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. 175

BASTARD

The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. Exit

KING JOHN

Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman!—

Go after him, for he perhaps shall need

Some messenger betwixt me and the peers,

And be thou he. 180

MESSENGER With all my heart, my liege. Exit

KING JOHN My mother dead!

Enter Hubert

HUBERT

My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight,

Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about

The other four in wondrous motion.

KING JOHN

Five moons?

HUBERT Old men and beldams in the streets

Do prophesy upon it dangerously.

Young Arthur’s death is common in their mouths,

And when they talk of him they shake their heads,

And whisper one another in the ear; 190

And he that speaks doth grip the hearer’s wrist,

Whilst he that hears makes fearful action,

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,

The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,

With open mouth swallowing a tailor’s news,

Who, with his shears and measure in his hand,

Standing on slippers which his nimble haste

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,

Told of a many thousand warlike French 200

That were embattailèd and ranked in Kent.

Another lean unwashed artificer

Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur’s death.

KING JOHN

Why seek’st thou to possess me with these fears?

Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur’s death?

Thy hand hath murdered him. I had a mighty cause

To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.

HUBERT

No had, my lord? Why, did you not provoke me?

KING JOHN

It is the curse of kings to be attended

By slaves that take their humours for a warrant

To break within the bloody house of life,

And on the winking of authority

To understand a law, to know the meaning

Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns

More upon humour than advised respect.

HUBERT

Here is your hand and seal for what I did.

He shows a paper

KING JOHN

O, when the last account ’twixt heaven and earth

Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal

Witness against us to damnation!

How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 220

Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by,

A fellow by the hand of nature marked,

Quoted, and signed to do a deed of shame,

This murder had not come into my mind.

But taking note of thy abhorred aspect,

Finding thee fit for bloody villainy,

Apt, liable to be employed in danger,

I faintly broke with thee of Arthur’s death;

And thou, to be endeared to a king,

Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.

HUBERT My lord—

KING JOHN

Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause

When I spake darkly what I purposed,

Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face,

As bid me tell my tale in express words,

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off,

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 braved,

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.

HUBERT

Arm you against your other enemies;

I’ll make a peace between your soul and you.

Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine

Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,

Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.

Within this bosom never entered yet

The dreadful motion of a murderous thought;

And you have slandered nature in my form,

Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 260

KING JOHN

Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers;

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, 265

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 ⌈severally⌉