Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, Mad'st it no conscience to destroy a Prince. 4 K. John. Hadft thou but fhook thy head, or made a pause, When I fpake darkly what I purposed: Or bid me tell my tale in exprefs words; Deep fhame had ftruck me dumb, made me break off, And didst in signs again parley with fin: The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name.- This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my confcience, and my coufin's death. Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, I'll make a peace between your foul and you. Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought, s Is yet the cover of a fairer mind, Than to be butcher of an innocent child. K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, hafte thee to the Throw this report on their incensed rage, 5 The dreadful motion of a MURD'ROUS thought,] Nothing can be falfer than what Hubert here fays in his own vindication; (yet it was the poet's purpose that he fhould fpeak truth) for we find, from a preceding scene, the motion of a murd'rous thought kad entred into him, and that, very deeply and it was with difficulty that the tears, the intreaties, and the innocence of Arthur had diverted and fuppreffed it. Nor is the expreffion, in this reading, at all exact, it not being the neceffary quality of a murd'rous thought to be dreadful, affrighting or terrible: For it being commonly excited by the flattering views of intereft, pleafure, or revenge, the mind is often too much taken up with thofe ideas to attend, fteadily, to the confequences. We must conclude therefore that Shakespeare wrote, —a MURDERER's thought. And this makes Hubert speak truth, as the poet intended he fhould. He had not committed the murder, and confequently the motion of a murderer's thought bad never enter'd his bosom. And in this reading, the epithet dreadful is admirably just, and in nature. For after the perpetration of the fact, the appetites, that hurried their owner to it, lofe their force; and nothing fucceeds to take poffeffion of the mind, but a dreadful consciousnefs, that torments the murderer without refpite or intermiffion. WARBURTON. I do not fee any thing in this change worth the vehemence with which it is recommended. Read the line either way, the fenfe is nearly the fame, nor does Hubert tell truth in either reading when he charges John with flandering his form. He that could once intend to burn out the eyes of a captive prince, had a mind not too fair for the rudeft form. And And foul imaginary eyes of blood SCENE V. A Street before a Prifon. Enter Arthur on the Walls, difguis'd. TH [Exeunt. Arth. THE wall is high, and yet will I leap down, Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not! There's few or none do know me: if they did, This ship-boy's femblance hath difguis'd me quite. If I get down, and do not break my limbs, As good to die, and go; as die, and ftay. [Leaps down. Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmondsbury; It is our fafety; and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. Pemb. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? Sal. The Count Me un, a noble Lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more gen'ral than these lines import. Bigot. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. Sal. Or rather then fet forward, for 'twill be Two long day's journey, Lords, or ere we meet. 6 Whofe private, &c.-] i. e. whofe private account, of the Dauphin's affection to our caufe, is much more ample than the letters. POPE. Enter Enter Faulconbridge. Faule. Once more to day well met, diftemper'd The King by me requefts your presence ftrait. Faulc. What e'er you think, good words, I think, Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. ? 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. Bigot. Or when he doom'd this beauty to the grave, Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? have you beheld, What you do fee? could thought, without this object, The height, the creft, or creft unto the crest 7 To reafon, in Shakespeare, is not so often to argue, as to talk. 5 Prefented i Prefented to the tears of foft remorse. Pemb. All murders past do stand excus'd in this And this fo fole, and fo unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet-unbegotten fins of time; Faulc. It is a damned and a bloody work, Sal. If that it be the work of any hand? Bigot. 8 } Our fouls religiously confirm thy words. SCENE VI. Enter Hubert. Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte, in feeking you; Arthur doth live, the King hath fent for you. Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death. |