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Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths : And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the
ear; And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open
mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contráry feet,) Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent: Another lean unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with
these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. Hub. Had none, my lord! why, did you not pro
voke me? K. John. It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant To break within the bloody house of life: And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law; to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns More upon
humour than advis'd respect." Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
1 Deliberate consideration.
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,” and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, This murder had not come into
Hub. My lord, -
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, 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 brav'd,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers:
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies,
have slander'd nature in my form;
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. 0, answer not; but to my closet bring The angry lords, with all expedient 4 haste: I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Ereuni.
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!There's few, or none, do know me; if they did, This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd 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!
[Dies. Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund's
Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?
Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France; Whose private with me,s of the Dauphin's love, Is much more general than these lines import.
Big. To-morrow morning let us meet him then.
Sal. Or, rather then set forward : for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet.
5 Private account.
Enter the Bastard.
Bast. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd6
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 honours, nor attend the foot That leaves the print of blood where-e'er it walks: Return, and tell him so ; we know the worst. Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I think,
Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege.
[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,