Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmonsbury; It is our fafety; and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. Pemb. Who brought that letter from the Cardinalt Sal. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love Is much more gen'ral than these lines import. Bigot. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. Sal. Or rather then fet forward, for 'twill be Two long days journey, lords, or e'er we meet, Enter Faulconbridge. Faulc. Once more to day well met, diftemper'd lords; The King by me requests your prefence ftrait. Sal. The King hath difpoffeft himself of us; We will not line his thin, beftained cloak With our pure honours: nor attend the foot, That leaves the print of blood where-e'er it walks. Return, and tell him fo: we know the worst. Faulc. What e'er you think, good words, I think, were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Faule. But there is little reason in your grief, Therefore 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pemb. Sir, Sir, impatience hath its privilege. Faulc. 'Tis true, to hurt its mafter, no man elfe.' Sal. This is the prifon: what is he lyes here? [Seeing Arthur. Pemb. 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. Bigot. Or when he doom'd this beauty to the 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, altho' you fee, 1 What What you do fee? could thought, without this object, The height, the creft, or creft unto the creft Pemb. All murders paft do ftand excus'd in this Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the yet-unbegotten fins of time; Faule. It is a damned and a bloody work, Sal. If that it be the work of any hand? Enter Hubert. Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte, in feeking you; Arthur doth live, the king hath fent for you. Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death; Avant, thou hateful Villain, get thee gone! Hub. I am no villain. Sal. Muft I rob the law? [Drawing his Sword. Faule. Your Sword is bright, Sir, put it up again. Hub. Hab. Stand back, Lord Salisbury; ftand back, I fay; By heav'n, I think, my fword's as fharp as yours. I would not have you, Lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Left 1, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatnefs, and nobility. Bigat. Out, dunghill! dar'ft thou brave a Nobleman? Hub. Not for my life; but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor. Sal. Thou art a murd'rer. Hub. Do not prove me fo; Yet, I am none. Whofe tongue foe'er fpeaks falfe, Faule. Keep the peace, I fay. Sal. Stand by, or I fhall gaul you, Faulconbridge. Faule. Thou wert better gaul the devil, Salisbury. If thou but frown on me, or ftir thy foot, Or teach thy hafty fpleen to do me shame, I'll ftrike thee dead. Put up thy fword betime, Or I'll fo maul you, and your tolling iron, That you fhall think, the devil is come from hell. Bigot. What will you do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain, and a murderer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. Bigot. Who kill'd this Prince ? Hub. 'Tis not an hour fince I left him well: Bigot. Away tow'rd Bury, to the Dauphin there. Faule. Here's a good world; knew you of this fair work? Beyond Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, (if thou didst this deed of death) Hub. Do but hear me, Sir. Faule. Ha? I'll tell thee what, Thou'rt damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black; As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. Faulc. If thou didst but confent To this moft cruel act, do but defpair, And if thou want'ft a cord, the smallest thread, And it shall be as all the ocean, Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought, Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amaz'd, methinks, and lofe my way (17) How eafie doft thou take all England cup, From forth this Morfel of dead Royalty?] But how did Hubert take England up, from forth the dead Body of young Arthur? Moft fagacious Editors! The ftupid Pointing, which has prevail'd in all the Copies, makes stark Nonsense of the Paffage. My Pointing reftores it to its genuine Purity. Faulconbridge, feeing Hubert take up the Body of the dead Prince, makes two Reflections: -- How eafily, fays he, doft theu take up all England in that Burthen! and then, That the Life, Right, and Truth of the Realm was filed to Heaven from out the breathlefs Coarfe of that flaughter'd Royalty, &c. From From forth this morfel of dead Royalty, And heav'n itself doth frown upon the Land. [Exeunt. SCENE, the Court of ENGLAND. Enter King John, Pandulph, and Attendants. TH K. JOHN. [Giving the Crown. HUS I have yielded up into your hand From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, Your fovereign Greatnefs and Authority. K. John. Now keep your holy word; go meet the And from his Holinefs ufe all your power |