The Same. |
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Alarums; excursions; retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, and and Lords. |
K. John. [To ELINOR.] So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind |
So strongly guarded. [To ARTHUR.] Cousin, look not sad: |
Thy grandman loves thee; and thy uncle will |
As dear be to thee as thy father was. |
Arth. O! this will make my mother die with grief. |
K. John. [To the BASTARD.] Cousin, away for England! haste before; |
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags |
Of hoarding abbots; set at liberty |
Imprison'd angels: the fat ribs of peace |
Must by the hungry now be fed upon: |
Use our commission in his utmost force. |
Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back |
When gold and silver becks me to come on. |
I leave your highness. Grandam, I will pray,— |
If ever I remember to be holy,— |
For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand. |
Eli. Farewell, gentle cousin. |
K. John. Coz, farewell. [Exit BASTARD. |
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. [She takes ARTHUR aside. |
K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, |
We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh |
There is a soul counts thee her creditor, |
And with advantage means to pay thy love: |
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath |
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. |
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, |
But I will fit it with some better time. |
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd |
To say what good respect I have of thee. |
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. |
K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet; |
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, |
Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. |
I had a thing to say, but let it go: |
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, |
Attended with the pleasures of the world, |
Is all too wanton and too full of gawds |
To give me audience: if the midnight bell |
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, |
Sound one into the drowsy race of night; |
If this same were a churchyard where we stand, |
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; |
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, |
Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick, |
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, |
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes |
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, |
A passion hateful to my purposes; |
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, |
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply |
Without a tongue, using conceit alone, |
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; |
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, |
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: |
But ah! I will not: yet I love thee well; |
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well. |
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake, |
Though that my death were adjunct to my act, |
By heaven, I would do it. |
K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst? |
Good Hubert! Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye |
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, |
He is a very serpent in my way; |
And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread |
He lies before me: dost thou understand me? |
Thou art his keeper. |
Hub. And I'll keep him so |
That he shall not offend your majesty. |
K. John. Death. |
Hub. My lord? |
K. John. A grave. |
Hub. He shall not live. |
K. John. Enough. |
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee; |
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: |
Remember. Madam, fare you well: |
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. |
Eli. My blessing go with thee! |
K. John. For England, cousin; go: |
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you |
With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt. |
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