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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, Found it too precious, princely, for a grave. Sal, Sir Richard, what think you ? Have

? Have you beheld, Or have you read, or heard, or could you think, Or do you almost think, altho' you see, That you do see ? could thought, without this object, Form such another ? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest Of murder's arms: this is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savag’ry, the vileft stroke, That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, Presented to the tears of soft remorfe.

Pemb. All murders paft do stand excus'd in this :
And this, so fole, and so unmatchable,
Shall give a holiness, a purity,
To the yet-unbegotten sins of time;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jeft,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle.

Faule. It is a dained 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 this breathless excellence
The incense of a vow, a holy vow? ;
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,

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a hely vow ;Never to taste the pleafures of the world,] This is a copy of the pows made in the ages of fuperftition and chivalry. JOHNSON,

Nor gone!

Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Till I have set a glory to this hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge 3.

Our souls religiously confirm they words. Bigot. $

Enter Hubert. Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you : Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you.

Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death.
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee

Hub. I am no villain.
Sal. Must I rob the law ? [Drawing his fword.
Fault. 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,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence + ;
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility.

Bigot. Out, dunghill! dar'lt thou brave a nobleman?

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 5;
Yet, I am none. Whose tongue foe'er speaks false,
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies.

Pemb. Cut him to pieces.
Faulc. Keep the peace, I say,
Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you, Faulconbridge.



- the worship of revenge.] The worship is the dignity, the honour. We still say worshipful of magiftrates. Johnson.

true defence;] Honeft defence; defence in a good canje. JOHNSON.

Ś 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. johns,


Faulc. Thou wert better gaul 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.

Bigot. What will you do, renowned Faulconbridge ? Second a villain, and a murderer?

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none.
Bigot. 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 innocence.
Away, with me, all you whose fouls abhor
The uncleanly favour of a slaughter-house,
For I am stifled with this smell of sin.

Bigot. Away toward Bury, to the dauphin there !
Pemb. There, tell the king, he may enquire us out.

[Exeunt lords. Faulc. Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair

Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Of mercy, if thou did'st this deed of death
Art thou damn’d, Hubert.

Hub. Do but hear me, Sir.

Faul. Ha! I'll tell thee what Thou art damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is so black; Thou art more deep damn’d than prince Lucifer: 6 There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.


6. There is not yet, &c.] I remember once to have met with an old book, printed in the time of Henry VIII. (which Shakespeare poffibiy might have seen) where we are told that the deformity of the condemned in the other world is exactly propor

Hub. Upon my foul

Foulc. 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 wouldst 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 fin 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.

Faulo. Go, bear him in thine arms.--
I am amaz’d, methinks; and lose my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world. —
How easy doth thou take all England up!
From forth this morsel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, the truth of all this realm
Is fled to heaven; and England now is left
To tug and scramble, and to part by the teeth
The un-owed interest 7 of proud-swelling state.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war bristle his


crest, And snarleth in the gentle eyes 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

8. tioned to the degrees of their guilt. The author of it observes how difficult it would be, on this account, to distinguish between Belzebub and Judas Iscariot. STEEVENS.

? The un-owed interest-)i.e, the interest which has no proper owner to claim it. STEEVENS.

$ The imminent decay of wrested pomp.] Wrested pomp is greatEes obtained by violence. JOHNSON.



Now happy he, whose cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempeft.-Bear away that child,
And follow me with speed; I'll to the king:
A thousand businesles are brief at hand,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt.



The court of England.

Enter king John, Pandulpho, and attendants.


your hand

K. JOHN. THUS I have yielded up

The circle of my glory. [Giving up the crown.
Pand. Take again
From this my hand, as holding of the pope,
Your sovereign greatness and authority.
K. John. Now keep your holy word : go meet the

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 mistemper'd humour
Rests by you only to be qualify’d.
Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick,
That present medicine must be ministred,
Or overthrow incurable ensues.

Pend. It was my breath that blew this tempeft up,
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope :
But since you are a gentle convertite,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war,



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