The Same. A Room of State in the Palace. |
|
Enter KING JOHN, crowned; PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other Lords. The KING takes his state. |
K. John. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, |
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. |
Pem. This 'once again,' but that your highness pleas'd, |
Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, |
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, |
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; |
Fresh expectation troubled not the land |
With any long'd-for change or better state. |
Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, |
To guard a title that was rich before, |
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, |
To throw a perfume on the violet, |
To smooth the ice, or add another hue |
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light |
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, |
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. |
Pem. But that your royal pleasure must be done, |
This act is as an ancient tale new told, |
And in the last repeating troublesome, |
Being urged at a time unseasonable. |
Sal. In this the antique and well-noted face |
Of plain old form is much disfigured; |
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, |
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, |
Startles and frights consideration, |
Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected, |
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. |
Pem. When workmen strive to do better than well |
They do confound their skill in covetousness; |
And oftentimes excusing of a fault |
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse: |
As patches set upon a little breach |
Discredit more in hiding of the fault |
Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. |
Sal. To this effect, before you were newcrown'd, |
We breath'd our counsel but it pleas'd your highness |
To overbear it, and we are all well pleas'd; |
Since all and every part of what we would |
Doth make a stand at what your highness will. |
K. John. Some reasons of this double coronation |
I have possess'd you with and think them strong; |
And more, more strong,—when lesser is my fear,— |
I shall indue you with: meantime but ask |
What you would have reform'd that is not well; |
And well shall you perceive how willingly |
I will both hear and grant you your requests. |
Pem. Then I,—as one that am the tongue of these |
To sound the purposes of all their hearts,— |
Both for myself and them,—but, chief of all, |
Your safety, for the which myself and them |
Bend their best studies,—heartily request |
The enfranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint |
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent |
To break into this dangerous argument: |
If what in rest you have in right you hold, |
Why then your fears,—which, as they say, attend |
The steps of wrong,—should move you to mew up |
Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days |
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth |
The rich advantage of good exercise? |
That the time's enemies may not have this |
To grace occasions, let it be our suit |
That you have bid us ask, his liberty; |
Which for our goods we do no further ask |
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, |
Counts it your weal he have his liberty. |
|
Enter HUBERT. |
K. John. Let it be so: I do commit his youth |
To your direction. Hubert, what news with you? [Taking him apart. |
Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed; |
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine: |
The image of a wicked heinous fault |
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his |
Does show the mood of a much troubled breast; |
And I do fearfully believe 'tis done, |
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. |
Sal. The colour of the king doth come and go |
Between his purpose and his conscience, |
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: |
His passion is so ripe it needs must break. |
Pem. And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence |
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. |
K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand: |
Good lords, although my will to give is living, |
The suit which you demand is gone and dead: |
He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night. |
Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure. |
Pem. Indeed we heard how near his death he was |
Before the child himself felt he was sick: |
This must be answer'd, either here or hence. |
K. John. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? |
Think you I bear the shears of destiny? |
Have I commandment on the pulse of life? |
Sal. It is apparent foul play; and 'tis shame |
That greatness should so grossly offer it: |
So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. |
Pem. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury; I'll go with thee, |
And find the inheritance of this poor child, |
His little kingdom of a forced grave. |
That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle, |
Three foot of it doth hold: bad world the while! |
This must not be thus borne: this will break out |
To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. [Exeunt Lords. |
K. John. They burn in indignation. I repent: |
There is no sure foundation set on blood, |
No certain life achiev'd by others' death. |
|
Enter a Messenger. |
A fearful eye thou hast: where is that blood |
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? |
So foul a sky clears not without a storm: |
Pour down thy weather: how goes all in France? |
Mess. From France to England. Never such a power |
For any foreign preparation |
Was levied in the body of a land. |
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them; |
For when you should be told they do prepare, |
The tidings come that they are all arriv'd. |
K. John. O! where hath our intelligence been drunk? |
Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care |
That such an army could be drawn in France, |
And she not hear of it? |
Mess. My liege, her ear |
Is stopp'd with dust: the first of April died |
Your noble mother; and, as I hear, my lord, |
The Lady Constance in a frenzy died |
Three days before: but this from rumour's tongue |
I idly heard; if true or false I know not. |
K. John. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! |
O! make a league with me, till I have pleas'd |
My discontented peers. What! mother dead! |
How wildly then walks my estate in France! |
Under whose conduct came those powers of France |
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? |
Mess. Under the Dauphin. |
K. John. Thou hast made me giddy |
With these ill tidings. |
|
Enter the BASTARD, and PETER OF POMFRET. |
Now, what says the world |
To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff |
My head with more ill news, for it is full. |
Bast. But if you be afeard to hear the worst, |
Then let the worst unheard fall on your head. |
K. John. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd |
Under the tide; but now I breathe again |
Aloft the flood, and can give audience |
To any tongue, speak it of what it will. |
Bast. How I have sped among the clergymen, |
The sums I have collected shall express. |
But as I travell'd hither through the land, |
I find the people strangely fantasied, |
Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams, |
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear. |
And here's a prophet that I brought with me |
From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found |
With many hundreds treading on his heels; |
To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rimes, |
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, |
Your highness should deliver up your crown. |
K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? |
Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. |
K. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him: |
And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, |
I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd. |
Deliver him to safety, and return, |
For I must use thee. [Exit HUBERT, with PETER. |
O my gentle cousin, |
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? |
Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it: |
Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, |
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, |
And others more, going to seek the grave |
Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night |
On your suggestion. |
K. John. Gentle kinsman, go, |
And thrust thyself into their companies. |
I have a way to win their loves again; |
Bring them before me. |
Bast. I will seek them out. |
K. John. Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. |
O! let me have no subject enemies |
When adverse foreigners affright my towns |
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion. |
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, |
And fly like thought from them to me again. |
Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. |
K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. [Exit BASTARD. |
Go after him; for he perhaps shall need |
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; |
And be thou he. |
Mess. With all my heart, my liege. [Exit. |
K. John. My mother dead! |
|
Re-enter HUBERT. |
Hub. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night: |
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about |
The other four in wondrous motion. |
K. John. Five moons! |
Hub. Old men and beldams in the streets |
Do prophesy upon it dangerously: |
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 contrary feet,— |
Told of a many thousand warlike French, |
That were embattailed 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 a mighty cause |
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. |
Hub. No had, my lord! why, did you not provoke 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. |
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 ill deeds done! Hadst 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 my mind; |
But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, |
Finding thee fit for bloody villany, |
Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, |
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: |
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: |
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land, |
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, |
Hostility and civil tumult reigns |
Between my conscience and my cousin's death. |
Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, |
I'll make a peace between your soul and you. |
Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine |
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, |
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. |
Within this bosom never enter'd yet |
The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; |
And you have slander'd nature in my form, |
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, |
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, |
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. |
O! answer not; but to my closet bring |
The angry lords, with all expedient haste. |
I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt. |
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