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Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think,

were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason

now.4
Bast. But there is little reason in your grief;
Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now.

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.
Bast. '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 beanty! 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.

Big. 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

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 ob

ject, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of inurder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, *The wildest savag'ry, the vilest 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 sin of time; And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle.

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Bast. 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;
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 his 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 hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge.
Peni. Big: Our souls religiously confirm thy

words.

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:-
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!

Hub. I am no villain.
Sal.

Must I rob the law?

[Drawing his sword.
Bast. Your sword is bright, sir; 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,

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a holy vow; Never to taste the pleasures of the world,] This is a copy of the vows made in the ages of superstition and chivalry.

Nor tempt the danger of my true defence;' s
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.
Big. Out, dunghill! dar'st thou brave a noble-

man?
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.
Bast.

Keep the peace,

I

say. Sal. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge.

Bast. 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 Faulcon

bridge?
Second a villain, and a murderer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.
Big.

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.

true defence;] Honest defence; defence in a good cause. Ô Do not prove me so;

Yet, I am none :] Do not make me a murderer, by compelling me to kill you; I am hitherto not a murderer.

Like rivers of remorse—] Remorse here, as almost every where in these plays, and the contemporary books, signifies pity.

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Hub.

Away, with me, all you whose souls abhor
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.

Big. Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin there!
Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire us out.

[Exeunt Lords. Bast. 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.

Do but hear me, sir.
Bast. Ha! I'll tell thee what;
Thou art damn'd as 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,
Bast.

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,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Bast. Go, bear him in thine arms.
I am amaz'd, methinks; and lose my way
8 I am amaz'd,] i. e. confounded.

T

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VOL. IV.

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 tug and scamble, and to part by the teeth
The unowed 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 home, Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits (As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,) The imminent decay of wrested pomp.: Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, And follow me with speed; I'll to the king: A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King John, PANDULPH with the Crown, and

Attendants. K. John. Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory.