Hub. Had none, my lord! why, did you not pro voke me? K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended To understand a law; to know the meaning Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 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, As 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: And didst in signs again parley with sin; The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more! This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my conscience, and my cousin's death. 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, Presented thee more hideous than thou art. I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt. SCENE III. THE SAME. BEFORE THE CASTLE. Enter Arthur, on the Walls. Arth. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down: Good ground, be pitiful, and hurt me not! If I get down, and do not break my limbs, 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. Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France; Whose private with me, of the Dauphin's love, Enter the Bastard. Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! The king, by me, requests your presence straight. Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. Bast. 'Tis true; to hurt his master, no man else. 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. Big. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a 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 almost think, although you see, That you do see? could thought, without this ob ject, Form such another? This is the very top, The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Pem. All murders past do stand excus'd in this: And this, so sole, and so unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet-unbegotten sin of times; And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work; Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?- |