Εικόνες σελίδας
PDF
Ηλεκτρ. έκδοση

K. 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,
Makes deeds ill done! Hadest not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted,1 and sign'd, to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind:
But, taking note of thy abhorr❜d aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable to be employ'd 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.
Hub. My lord,-

K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause,

When I spake darkly what I purposed;

Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,

And 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,

Distinguished.

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.

Hub. 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 enter'd yet

The dreadful motion of a murderous thought:
And you have slander'd nature in my form;
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,

Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

K. 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,
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.

SCENE III.

The same. Before the castle.

Enter ARTHUR on the walls.

Ar. 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 disguised 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.

[leaps down. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!

Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT.

[dies.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund's

Bury.

It is our safety, and we must embrace

This gentle offer of the perilous time.

1

Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France; Whose private 1 with me, of the Dauphin's love, Is much more general than these lines import. Bi. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.

Private account.

Sal. Or, rather, then set forward; for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet.

Enter THE BASTARD.

Bas. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd' lords!

The king, by me, requests your presence straight.
Sal. The king hath dispossess'd himself of us;
We will not line his thin bestained cloak
With our pure honors, nor attend the foot
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks.
Return, and tell him so; we know the worst.

Bas. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.

Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason

now.

Bas. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. Bas. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man clse. Sal. This is the prison. What is he lies here? [seeing Arthur. Pem. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!

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.

Bi. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave,

Out of humor.

[graphic][merged small][merged small][merged small]
« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »