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 you beheld, Or have you read, or heard, or could you think, That you do fee? could thought, without this object, That ever wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage, Prefented to the tears of foft remorfe. Pemb. All murders paft do ftand excus'd in this : And this, fo fole, and fo unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet-unbegotten fins of time; Faule. It is a damned and a bloody work Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?- 2 a holy vow; Never to taste the pleafures of the world,] This is a copy of the Vows made in the ages of fuperftition and chivalry. JOHNSON, Nor Nor converfant with ease and idleness, By giving it the worship of revenge 3. Pemb. } Our fouls religiously confirm they words. Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte, in feeking you: Sal. Muft I rob the law? [Drawing his fword. Faule. Your fword is bright, Sir; put it up again. Sal. Not till I fheath it in a murderer's skin. Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbury; stand back, I say; By heaven, I think, my fword's as sharp as yours. I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence +; Left I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatnefs, and nobility. Bigot. Out, dunghill! dar'ft 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 fo 5; Yet, I am none. Whose tongue foe'er speaks false, 3 Faulc. Keep the peace, I fay. Sal. Stand by, or I fhall gaul you, Faulconbridge. the worship of revenge.] The worship is the dignity, the bonour. We ftill fay worshipful of magiftrates. JOHNSON. — true defence ;] Honeft defence; defence in a good caufe. JOHNSON. 4 Do not prove me fo Yet, I am none. -] Do not make me a murderer by compelling me to kill you; I am hitherto not a murderer. JOHNS, Or Faule. Thou wert better gaul the devil, Salisbury. If thou but frown on me, or ftir thy foot, Or teach thy hafty spleen to do me shame, Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. Hub. 'Tis not an hour fince I left him well: me, all you whofe fouls abhor The uncleanly favour of a flaughter-house, For I am ftified with this smell of fin. eyes, Bigot. Away toward Bury, to the dauphin there! Pemb. There, tell the king, he may enquire us out. [Exeunt lords. Faule. Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou did❜ft this deed of death Art thou damn'd, Hubert. Hub. Do but hear me, Sir. Faulc. Ha! I'll tell thee what Thou art damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black; Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer: There is not yet fo ugly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. Hub. There is not yet, &c.] I remember once to have met with an old book, printed in the time of Henry VIII. (which Shakefpeare poffibly might have feen) where we are told that the deformity of the condemned in the other world is exactly propor Hub. Upon my foul Faule. If thou didft but confent To this most cruel act, do but defpair, And, if thou want'ft a cord, the smallest thread, Will ferve to ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam And it fhall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.— Hub. If I, in act, confent, or fin of thought, Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms.- 8 tioned to the degrees of their guilt. The author of it obferves how difficult it would be, on this account, to diftinguish between Belzebub and Judas Iscariot. STEEVENS. 7 The un-owed intereft] i. e. the intereft which has no proper owner to claim it. STEEVENS. The imminent decay of wrested pomp.] Wrefied pomp is greatnefs obtained by violence. JOHNSON. Now Now happy he, whofe cloak and cincture can And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt. The circle of my glory. Pand. Take again From this my hand, as holding of the pope, Your fovereign greatness and authority. K. John. Now keep your holy word: go meet the And from his holinefs ufe all your power Refts by you only to be qualify'd. Then paufe not; for the prefent time's fo fick, That prefent medicine must be ministred, Or overthrow incurable enfues. Pend. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your ftubborn ufage of the pope : But fince you are a gentle convertite, My tongue fhall hufh again this ftorm of war, And |