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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 you beheld,

Or have you read, or heard, or could you think,
Or do you almoft think, altho' you fee,

That you do fee? could thought, without this object,
Form fuch another? This is the very top,
The height, the creft, or creft unto the creft
Of murder's arms: this is the bloodieft fhame,
The wildeft favag'ry, the vileft ftroke,

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;
And prove a deadly bloodfhed but a jeft,'
Exampled by this heinous fpectacle.

Faule. It is a damned 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 enfue.
It is the fhameful work of Hubert's hand;
The practice and the purpofe of the king:→
From whofe obedience I forbid my foul,
Kneeling before this ruin of fweet life,
And breathing to this breathlefs excellence
The incenfe of a vow, a holy vow 2;
Never to tafte the pleafures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,

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,
Till I have fet a glory to this hand,

By giving it the worship of revenge 3.

Pemb.
Bigot.

}

Our fouls religiously confirm they words.
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.
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
Hub. I am no villain.

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,
Not truly fpeaks; who speaks not truly, lies.
Pemb. Cut him to pieces.

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,
I'll ftrike thee dead. Put up thy fword betime;
Or I'll fo maul you, and your toafting-iron,
That you fhall 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 fince I left him well:
I honour'd him, I lov'd him; and will weep
My date of life out, for his fweet life's lofs."
Sal. Truft not thofe cunning waters of his
For villainy is not without fuch rheum;
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorfe and innocence.
Away, with

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,
That ever spider twifted from her womb,

Will ferve to ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam
To hang thee on: or wouldft thou drown thyfelf,
Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it fhall be as all the ocean,

Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.—
I do fufpect thee very grievously.

Hub. If I, in act, confent, 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.

Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms.-
I am amaz'd, methinks; and lofe my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world..
How eafy doth thou take all England up!
From forth this morfel 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 fcramble, and to part by the teeth
The un-owed intereft 7 of proud-fwelling ftate.
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty,
Doth dogged war bristle his angry creft,
And fnarleth in the gentle eyes of peace.
Now powers from home and difcontents at home
Meet in one line; and vaft confufion waits
(As doth a raven on a fick, fallen beaft)
The imminent decay of wrested pomp

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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
Hold out this tempeft.-Bear away that child,
And follow me with fpeed; I'll to the king:
A thousand bufineffes are brief at hand,

And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [Exeunt.

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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
French,

And from his holinefs ufe all your power
To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam’d.
Our difcontented counties do revolt;
Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of foul,
To ftranger blood, to foreign royalty.
This inundation of miftemper'd humour

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

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