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Ebook has 110 lines and 34628 words, and 3 pages

Enter ARTHUR

Re-enter EXECUTIONERS, With cord, irons, etc.

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. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. ARTHUR. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven 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, Nor look upon the iron angrily; Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. HUBERT. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. EXECUTIONER. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. 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. ARTHUR. O heaven, 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. 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, 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, Being create for comfort, to be us'd In undeserved 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. 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 compell'd 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 I am 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 disguis'd. 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 heaven! I thank you, Hubert. HUBERT. Silence; no more. Go closely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee. Exeunt

SCENE 2.

England. KING JOHN'S palace

Enter KING JOHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS

KING JOHN. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. PEMBROKE. This once again, but that your Highness pleas'd, Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, 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. SALISBURY. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, 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. 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 fashion'd 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 worse 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 patch'd. SALISBURY. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, We breath'd our counsel; but it pleas'd your Highness To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd, 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 possess'd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with. Meantime 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. 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, 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, Counts it your weal he have his liberty. KING JOHN. Let it be so. I do commit his youth To your direction.

Enter HUBERT

Hubert, what news with you? PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the bloody deed: He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine; The image of a wicked heinous fault Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his Doth show 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. 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 The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. KING 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. SALISBURY. Indeed, we fear'd 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 answer'd either here or hence. KING 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? 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 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 LORDS KING JOHN. They burn in indignation. I repent. There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achiev'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? MESSENGER. From France to England. Never such a pow'r For any foreign preparation Was levied in the body of a land. The copy of your speed is learn'd by them, For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings comes that they are all arriv'd. KING JOHN. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? 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? MESSENGER. My liege, her ear Is stopp'd 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 pleas'd My discontented peers! What! mother dead! How wildly then walks my estate in France! Under whose conduct came those pow'rs of France That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? MESSENGER. Under the Dauphin. KING JOHN. Thou hast made me giddy With these in tidings.

Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET

Now! What says the world To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff My head with more ill news, for it is fun. BASTARD. But if you be afear'd to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. KING 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. BASTARD. 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 fantasied; 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 rhymes, That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, Your Highness should deliver up your crown. KING JOHN. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? PETER. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. KING JOHN. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; And on that day at noon whereon he says I shall yield up my crown let him be hang'd. Deliver him to safety; and return, For I must use thee. Exit HUBERT with PETER O my gentle cousin, Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? 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 kill'd to-night On your suggestion. KING JOHN. Gentle kinsman, go And thrust thyself into their companies. I have a way to will 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. BASTARD. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. Exit BASTARD Go after him; for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou he. MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. Exit KING JOHN. My mother dead!

Re-enter HUBERT

SCENE 3.

England. Before the castle

Enter ARTHUR, on the walls

ARTHUR. 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 semblance hath disguis'd me quite. I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. If I get down and do not break my limbs, I'll find a thousand shifts to get away. As good to die and go, as die and stay. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones. Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT

SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury; It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more general than these lines import. BIGOT. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. SALISBURY. Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet.

Enter the BASTARD

Enter HUBERT

Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH, and attendants

KING JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory. PANDULPH. Take again From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, Your sovereign greatness and authority. KING JOHN. Now keep your holy word; go meet the French; And from his Holiness use all your power To stop their marches fore we are inflam'd. Our discontented counties do revolt; Our people quarrel with obedience, Swearing allegiance and the love of soul To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. This inundation of mistemp'red humour Rests by you only to be qualified. Then pause not; for the present time's so sick That present med'cine must be minist'red Or overthrow incurable ensues. PANDULPH. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope; But since you are a gentle convertite, My tongue shall hush again this storm of war And make fair weather in your blust'ring land. On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the Pope, Go I to make the French lay down their arms. Exit KING JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet Say that before Ascension-day at noon My crown I should give off? Even so I have. I did suppose it should be on constraint; But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary.

Enter the BASTARD

SCENE 2. England. The DAUPHIN'S camp at Saint Edmundsbury

Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and soldiers

Enter PANDULPH

And even there, methinks, an angel spake: Look where the holy legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of heaven And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath. PANDULPH. Hail, noble prince of France! The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, That so stood out against the holy Church, The great metropolis and see of Rome. Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up And tame the savage spirit of wild war, That, like a lion fostered up at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace And be no further harmful than in show. LEWIS. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back: I am too high-born to be propertied, To be a secondary at control, Or useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted me with interest to this land, Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; And come ye now to tell me John hath made His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, What men provided, what munition sent, To underprop this action? Is 't not I That undergo this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claim are liable, Sweat in this business and maintain this war? Have I not heard these islanders shout out 'Vive le roi!' as I have bank'd their towns? Have I not here the best cards for the game To will this easy match, play'd for a crown? And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. PANDULPH. You look but on the outside of this work. LEWIS. Outside or inside, I will not return Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war, And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world To outlook conquest, and to will renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death. What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?

Enter the BASTARD, attended

SCENE 3.

England. The field of battle

Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT

KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty? KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, Desires your Majesty to leave the field And send him word by me which way you go. KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. MESSENGER. Be of good comfort; for the great supply That was expected by the Dauphin here Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands; This news was brought to Richard but even now. The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. KING JOHN. Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up And will not let me welcome this good news. Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight; Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. Exeunt

SCENE 4.

England. Another part of the battlefield

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT

SALISBURY. I did not think the King so stor'd with friends. PEMBROKE. Up once again; put spirit in the French; If they miscarry, we miscarry too. SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.

Enter MELUN, wounded

SCENE 5.

England. The French camp

Enter LEWIS and his train

LEWIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, When English measure backward their own ground In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, When with a volley of our needless shot, After such bloody toil, we bid good night; And wound our tott'ring colours clearly up, Last in the field and almost lords of it!

Enter a MESSENGER

SCENE 6.

An open place wear Swinstead Abbey

Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally

HUBERT. Who's there? Speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. BASTARD. A friend. What art thou? HUBERT. Of the part of England. BASTARD. Whither dost thou go? HUBERT. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine? BASTARD. Hubert, I think. HUBERT. Thou hast a perfect thought. I will upon all hazards well believe Thou art my friend that know'st my tongue so well. Who art thou? BASTARD. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me That any accent breaking from thy tongue Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? HUBERT. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night To find you out. BASTARD. Brief, then; and what's the news? HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. HUBERT. The King, I fear, is poison'd by a monk; I left him almost speechless and broke out To acquaint you with this evil, that you might The better arm you to the sudden time Than if you had at leisure known of this. BASTARD. How did he take it; who did taste to him? HUBERT. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty? HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, And brought Prince Henry in their company; At whose request the King hath pardon'd them, And they are all about his Majesty. BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, And tempt us not to bear above our power! I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Passing these flats, are taken by the tide- These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. Away, before! conduct me to the King; I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. Exeunt

SCENE 7.

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