Sal. deed we fear'd his Sickness was paft cure.
Pemb. Indeed we heard how near his Death he was, Before the Child himself felt he was fick.
This must be anfwer'd either here or hence.
K. John. Why do you bend fuch folemn Brows on me? Think you I bear the Shears of Deftiny?
Have I Commandment on the Pulfe of Life?
Sal. It is apparent foul-play, and 'tis (hame
That Greatness fhould fo grofly offer it:
So thrive it in your Game, and fo farewel.
Pemb. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury, I'll go with thee,
And find th' Inheritance of this poor Child,
His little Kingdom of a forced Grave.
That Blood which ow'd the Breath of all this Ifle,
Three Foot of it doth hold; bad World the while,
This must not be thus born, this will break out
To all our Sorrows, and e'er long I doubt.
K. John. They burn in Indignation; I repent:
There is no fure Foundation fet on Blood;
No certain Life atchiev'd by others Death.
A fearful Eye thou haft; where is that Blood
That I have feen inhabit in thofe Cheeks?
So foul a Sky clears not without a Storm;
Pour down thy Weather: How goes all in France?
Mef. From France to England never fuch a Power,
For any Foreign Preparation,
Was levy'd 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. Oh where hath our Intelligence been drunk?
Where hath it flept? Where is my Mother's Care?
That fuch an Army fhould be drawn in France,
And the not hear of it?
Mef. My Liege, her Ear
Is ftopt with Duft: The firft of April dy'd
Your noble Mother; and, as I hear, my Lord,
The Lady Conftance in a frenzie dy'd
Three Days before; but this from Rumours Torgue.
I idely heard; if true, or falfe, I know not.
K. John. With-hold thy Speed, dreadful Occafion;
O make a League with me, 'till I have pleas'd
My difcontented Peers. What? Mother dead?
How wildly then walks my Eftate in France?
Under whofe Conduct came thofe Powers of France}
That thou for Truth giv'ft out are landed here?
Mef. Under the Dauphin.
Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.
K. John. Thou haft made me giddy
With thefe ill Tidings. Now, What fays the World
To your Proceedings? Do not feek to stuff
My Head with more ill News, for it is full.
Baft. But if you be afraid to hear the worst,
Then let the worst unheard fall on your Head.
K. John, Bear with me, Coufin; for I was amaz'd
Under the Tide; but now I breath again
Aloft the Flood, and can give Audience
To any Tongue, fpeak it of what it will.
Baft. How I have fped among the Clergy-men,
The Sums I have collected fhall exprefs:
But as I travell'd hither through the Land,
I find the People strangely fantafied;
Poffeft 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 fung in rude harth founding Rhimes,
That e'er the next Afcenfion-Day at Noon,
Your Highness fhould deliver up your Crown.
K. John, Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didft thou fo
Peter. Fore-knowing that the Truth will fall out fo
K. John. Hubert, away with him; imprison him,
And on that Day at Noon, whereon he fays
I fhall yield up my Crown, let him be hang'd.
Deliver him to Safety, and return,
For I muft ufe thee. O my gentle Coufing
Hear'ft thou the News abroad, who are arriv'd?
Baft. The French, my Lord; Mens Mouths are full of it!
Befides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury,
With Eyes as red as new enkindled Fire,
And others more, going to feek the Grave
Of Arthur, whom they fay is kill'd to Night, on your
K. John. Gentle Kinsman, go
And thru thy felf into their Companies,
I have a Way to win their Loves again:
Bring them before me.
Baft. I will feek them out.
K. John. Nay, but make hafte; the better Foot before. O, let me have no Subjects Enemies,
When adverse Foreigners affright my Towns
With dreadful Pomp of ftout Invafion.
Be Mercury, fet Feathers to thy Heels,
And flie, like Thought, from them to me again.
Baft. The Spirit of the Time fhall teach me Speed. [Exit.
K. John. Spoke like a sprightful Noble Gentleman.
Go after him; for he perhaps fhall need
Some Messenger betwixt me and the Peers,
Mef. With all my Heart, my Liege.
K. John. My Mother dead!
Enter Hubert.
Hub. My Lord, they fay 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 prophefie 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 fpeaks, doth gripe the hearer's Wrift,
Whilft he that hears makes fearful Action
With wrinkled Brows, with Nods, with rolling Eyes.
I faw a Smith ftand with his Hammer, thus,
The whilft his Iron did on th' Anvil cool,
With open Mouth fwallowing a Taylor's News;
Who with his Shears, and Measure in his Hand,
Standing on Slippers, which his nimble Hafte
Had fally thruft upon contrary 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 feek'ft thou to poffefs me with thefe Fears? Why urgeft thou fo oft young Arthur's Death?
Thy Hand hath murther'd him: I had a mighty Caufe
To with him dead, but thou hadit none to kill him.
Hub. No had, my Lord? why did you not provoke me?
K. John. It is the Curfe of Kings, to be attended
By Slaves that take their Humours for a Warrant,
To break the bloody House of Life,
And on the winking of Authority
To understand a Law; to know the Meaning
Of dangerous Majefty, when perchance it frowns
More upon Humour, than advis'd Respect.
Hub. Here is your Hand and Seal for what I did.
K. John. Oh, when the laft Account 'twixt Heav'n and 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,
Make Deeds ill done? Hadft not thou been by.
A Fellow by the Hand of Nature mark'd,
Quoted, and fign'd to do a Deed of Shame,
This Murther had not come into my Mind.
But taking Note of thy abhorred Afpect,
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 Confcience to deftroy a Prince.
Hub. My Lord.
K. John. Hadft thou but fhook thy Head, or made a Paufe When I fpake darkly, what I purpofed:
Or turn'd an Eye of Doubt upon my Face;
As bid me tell my Tale in expreís 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 didft in Signs again parley with Sin,
Yea, without ftop didft let thy Heart confent,
And confequently thy rude Hand to ac
The Deed, which both our Tongues held vile to name.
Out of my Sight, and never fee 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,
Hoftility and civil Tumult reigns,
Between my Confcience, and my Coufin'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 Bofom, never entred yet
The dreadful Motion of a murderous Thought,
And you have flander'd Nature in my Form,
Which how foever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the Cover of a fairer Mind,
Than to be Butcher of an Innocent Child.
K. John. Doth Arthur live? O hafte thee to the Peers, Throw this Report on their incenfed Rage, And make them tame to their Obedience. Forgive the Comment that my Paffion made Upon thy Feature, for my Rage was blind, And foul Imaginary Eyes of Blood Prefented thee more hideous than thou art. Oh, answer not; but to my Closet bring The angry Lords, with all expedient Hafte. I conjure thee but flowly: Run more fast.
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 difguis'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 itay.
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