If that young Arthur be not gone already,

    Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts

    Of all his people shall revolt from him,

    And kiss the lips of unacquainted¹⁶⁸ change,

    And pick strong matter of¹⁶⁹ revolt and wrath

    Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John¹⁷⁰.

    Methinks I see this hurly all on foot¹⁷¹:

    And O, what better matter breeds¹⁷² for you

    Than I have named! The Bastard Falconbridge

    Is now in England, ransacking the Church,

    Offending charity: if but a dozen French

    Were there in arms, they would be as a call¹⁷⁶

    To train¹⁷⁷ ten thousand English to their side,

    Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,

    Anon¹⁷⁹ becomes a mountain. O noble dauphin,

    Go with me to the king: ’tis wonderful

    What may be wrought¹⁸¹ out of their discontent,

    Now that their souls are top-full of offence¹⁸².

    For England go: I will whet on¹⁸³ the king.

LEWIS    Strong reasons make strange actions¹⁸⁴: let us go:

    If you say ay¹⁸⁵, the king will not say no.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 1

running scene 6

Enter Hubert and Executioners

With a rope and irons

HUBERT    Heat me these irons hot, and look¹ thou stand

    Within the arras²: when I strike my foot

    Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth

    And bind the boy which you shall find with me

    Fast to the chair: be heedful⁵: hence, and watch.

FIRST EXECUTIONER    I hope your warrant will bear out⁶ the deed.

The Executioners withdraw behind the arras

HUBERT    Uncleanly scruples⁷: Fear not you: look to’t.

    Young lad, come forth; I have to say with⁸ you.

Enter Arthur

ARTHUR    Good morrow, Hubert.

HUBERT    Good morrow, little¹⁰ prince.

ARTHUR    As little prince, having so great a title¹¹

    To be more prince, as may be. You are sad¹².

HUBERT    Indeed, I have been merrier.

ARTHUR    ’Mercy¹⁴ on me!

    Methinks nobody should be sad but I:

    Yet, I remember, when I was in France,

    Young gentlemen would be as sad¹⁷ as night

    Only for wantonness: by my christendom¹⁸,

    So¹⁹ I were out of prison and kept sheep,

    I should be as merry as the day is long:

    And so I would be here, but that I doubt²¹

    My uncle practises²² more harm to me:

    He is afraid of me, and I of him:

    Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?

    No, indeed, is’t not: and I would²⁵ to heaven

    I were your son, so²⁶ you would love me, Hubert.

Aside

HUBERT    If I talk to him, with his innocent prate²⁷

    He will awake my mercy which lies dead:

    Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch²⁹.

ARTHUR    Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today:

    In sooth³¹, I would you were a little sick,

    That I might sit all night and watch³² with you.

    I warrant³³ I love you more than you do me.

Aside

HUBERT    His words do take possession of my bosom.—

Showing a paper/Aside

    Read here, young Arthur.— How now, foolish rheum³⁵!

    Turning dispiteous torture out of door³⁶?

    I must be brief, lest resolution³⁷ drop

    Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.

    Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ³⁹?

ARTHUR    Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect⁴⁰:

    Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

HUBERT    Young boy, I must.

ARTHUR    And will you?

HUBERT    And I will.

ARTHUR    Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,

    I knit my handkercher⁴⁶ about your brows,

    The best I had, a princess wrought it⁴⁷ me,

    And I did never ask it you⁴⁸ again:

    And with my hand at midnight held your head,

    And like the watchful⁵⁰ minutes to the hour,

    Still and anon cheered up the heavy⁵¹ time,

    Saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief⁵²?’

    Or ‘What good love⁵³ may I perform for you?’

    Many a poor man’s son would have lien⁵⁴ still

    And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you:

    But you at your sick service⁵⁶ had a prince:

    Nay, you may think my love was crafty⁵⁷ love,

    And call it cunning. Do, an if⁵⁸ you will.

    If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill⁵⁹,

    Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?

    These eyes that never did, nor never shall,

    So much as frown on you.

HUBERT    I have sworn to do it:

    And with hot irons must I burn them out.

ARTHUR    Ah, none but in this iron age⁶⁵ would do it:

    The iron of itself, though heat⁶⁶ red-hot,

    Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears

    And quench this⁶⁸ fiery indignation,

    Even in the matter⁶⁹ of mine innocence:

    Nay, after that, consume away in rust

    But for containing⁷¹ fire to harm mine eye:

    Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?

    And if an angel should have⁷³ come to me

    And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,

    I would not have believed him: no tongue but Hubert’s.

HUBERT    Come forth.

Stamps; Executioners come forward

    Do as I bid you do.

ARTHUR    O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out⁷⁸

    Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

HUBERT    Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.

ARTHUR    Alas, what need you be so boist’rous-rough?

    I will not struggle: I will stand stone-still:

    For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound:

    Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,

    And I will sit as quiet as a lamb:

    I will not stir, nor winch⁸⁶, nor speak a word,

    Nor look upon the iron angerly⁸⁷:

    Thrust but these men away, and I’ll forgive you,

    Whatever torment you do put me to.

HUBERT    Go, stand within: let me alone with him.

FIRST EXECUTIONER    I am best pleased to be from⁹¹ such a deed.

[Exeunt Executioners]

ARTHUR    Alas, I then have chid⁹² away my friend!

    He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:

    Let him come back, that his compassion may

    Give life to yours.

HUBERT    Come, boy, prepare yourself.

ARTHUR    Is there no remedy⁹⁷?

HUBERT    None, but to lose your eyes.

ARTHUR    O heaven, that there were but a mote⁹⁹ in yours,

    A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

    Any annoyance in that precious sense¹⁰¹:

    Then feeling what small things are boisterous¹⁰² there,

    Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

HUBERT    Is this your promise? Go to¹⁰⁴, hold your tongue.

ARTHUR    Hubert, the utterance of a brace¹⁰⁵ of tongues

    Must needs want pleading¹⁰⁶ for a pair of eyes:

    Let me not¹⁰⁷ hold my tongue: let me not, Hubert:

    Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,

    So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes,

    Though to no use but still¹¹⁰ to look on you.

    Lo, by my troth¹¹¹, the instrument is cold

    And would not harm me.

HUBERT    I can heat it, boy.

ARTHUR    No, in good sooth¹¹⁴: the fire is dead with grief,

    Being create¹¹⁵ for comfort, to be used

    In undeserved extremes: see else¹¹⁶ yourself:

    There is no malice in this burning coal:

    The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out,

    And strewed repentant ashes on his head.

HUBERT    But with my breath I can revive it, boy.

ARTHUR    An if you do, you will but¹²¹ make it blush

    And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert:

    Nay, it perchance will sparkle in¹²³ your eyes,

    And, like a dog that is compelled to fight,

    Snatch at his master that doth tarre¹²⁵ him on.

    All things that you should use to do me wrong

    Deny their office¹²⁷: only you do lack

    That mercy, which fierce fire and iron extends¹²⁸,

    Creatures of note for mercy, lacking uses¹²⁹.

HUBERT    Well, see to live: I will not touch thine eye

    For all the treasure that thine uncle owes¹³¹:

    Yet am I sworn and I did purpose¹³², boy,

    With this same very iron to burn them out.

ARTHUR    O, now you look like Hubert. All this while

    You were disguisèd.

HUBERT    Peace; no more. Adieu.

    Your uncle must not know but¹³⁷ you are dead.

    I’ll fill these doggèd¹³⁸ spies with false reports:

    And, pretty child, sleep doubtless¹³⁹, and secure,

    That Hubert for the wealth of all the world,

    Will not offend¹⁴¹ thee.

ARTHUR    O heaven! I thank you, Hubert.

HUBERT    Silence, no more: go closely¹⁴³ in with me.

    Much danger do I undergo for thee.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 2

running scene 7

Enter King John, Pembroke, Salisbury and other Lords

King John ascends the throne

KING JOHN    Here once again we sit: once again crowned,

    And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.

PEMBROKE    This ‘once again’, but that your highness pleased,

    Was once⁴ superfluous: you were crowned before,

    And that high royalty was ne’er plucked off:

    The faiths of men ne’er stainèd with revolt:

    Fresh⁷ expectation troubled not the land

    With any longed-for change or better state⁸.

SALISBURY    Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp⁹,

    To guard¹⁰ a title that was rich before,

    To gild¹¹ refinèd 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-light¹⁴

    To seek the beauteous eye of heaven¹⁵ to garnish,

    Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

PEMBROKE    But that your royal pleasure¹⁷ must be done,

    This act is as an ancient tale new told,

    And, in the last repeating, troublesome,

    Being urgèd at a time unseasonable²⁰.

SALISBURY    In this the antique and well-noted²¹ face

    Of plain old form is much disfigurèd²²,

    And, like a shifted²³ wind unto a sail,

    It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about²⁴,

    Startles and frights consideration²⁵,

    Makes sound²⁶ opinion sick and truth suspected,

    For putting on so new a fashioned²⁷ robe.

PEMBROKE    When workmen strive to do better than well,

    They do confound²⁹ their skill in covetousness,

    And oftentimes excusing of a fault³⁰

    Doth make the fault the worse by th’excuse:

    As patches set upon a little breach³²

    Discredit³³ more in hiding of the fault

    Than did the fault before it was so patched.

SALISBURY    To this effect, before you were new crowned³⁵,

    We breathed³⁶ our counsel: but it pleased your highness

    To overbear³⁷ it, and we are all well pleased,

    Since all and every part of what we would

    Doth make a stand at³⁹ what your highness will.

KING JOHN    Some reasons of this double coronation

    I have possessed you with⁴¹, and think them strong.

    And more, more strong, than lesser is my fear⁴²,

    I shall indue⁴³ you with: meantime but ask

    What you would have reformed that is not well,

    And well shall you perceive how willingly

    I will both hear and grant you your requests.

PEMBROKE    Then I, as one that am the tongue⁴⁷ of these,

    To sound⁴⁸ the purposes of all their hearts,

    Both for myself and them, but chief of all

    Your safety, for the which myself and them⁵⁰

    Bend their best studies⁵¹, heartily request

    Th’enfranchisement⁵² of Arthur, whose restraint

    Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent

    To break into this dangerous argument:

    If what in rest you have, in right⁵⁵ you hold,

    Why then your fears, which, as they say, attend⁵⁶

    The steps of wrong, should move you to mew up⁵⁷

    Your tender⁵⁸ kinsman, and to choke his days

    With barbarous ignorance and deny his youth

    The rich advantage of good exercise⁶⁰.

    That the time’s enemies may not have this⁶¹

    To grace occasions, let it be our suit⁶²

    That you have bid us ask his liberty,

    Which for our goods⁶⁴ we do no further ask

    Than, whereupon our weal⁶⁵ on you depending

    Counts⁶⁶ it your weal, he have his liberty.

Enter Hubert

KING JOHN    Let it be so: I do commit⁶⁷ his youth

    To your direction⁶⁸.—

Taking him to one side

    Hubert, what news with you?

PEMBROKE    This is the man should do⁷⁰ the bloody deed:

    He showed his warrant to a friend of mine:

    The image of a wicked heinous⁷² fault

    Lives in his eye: that close aspect⁷³ of his

    Do⁷⁴ show the mood of a much troubled breast,

    And I do fearfully believe ’tis done,

    What we so feared he had a charge⁷⁶ to do.

SALISBURY    The colour⁷⁷ of the king doth come and go

    Between his purpose and his conscience,

    Like heralds ’twixt two dreadful battles⁷⁹ set:

    His passion is so ripe, it needs must break⁸⁰.

PEMBROKE    And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence

    The foul corruption of a sweet child’s death.

KING JOHN    We cannot hold⁸³ mortality’s strong hand.—

To Lords

    Good lords, although my will to give⁸⁴ is living,

    The suit which you demand is gone and dead.

    He tells us Arthur is deceased tonight⁸⁶.

SALISBURY    Indeed we feared his sickness was past cure.

PEMBROKE    Indeed we heard how near his death he was

    Before the child himself felt he was sick:

    This must be answered either here or hence⁹⁰.

KING JOHN    Why do you bend such solemn brows⁹¹ on me?

    Think you I bear the shears of destiny⁹²?

    Have I commandment on⁹³ the pulse of life?

SALISBURY    It is apparent⁹⁴ foul play, and ’tis shame

    That greatness should so grossly offer⁹⁵ it:

    So thrive it in your game⁹⁶, and so farewell.

PEMBROKE    Stay yet, Lord Salisbury: I’ll go with thee,

    And find th’inheritance of this poor child,

    His little kingdom of a forcèd⁹⁹ grave.

    That blood which owed¹⁰⁰ the breadth of all this isle,

    Three foot of it doth hold: bad world the while¹⁰¹:

    This must not be thus borne: this will break out

    To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt¹⁰³.

Exeunt [Lords]

KING JOHN    They burn in indignation: I repent:

    There is no sure foundation set¹⁰⁵ on blood:

    No certain life achieved by others’ death.

Enter [a] Messenger

    A fearful¹⁰⁷ 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 weather¹¹⁰: how goes all in France?

MESSENGER    From France to England: never such a power¹¹¹

    For any foreign preparation¹¹²

    Was levied in the body¹¹³ of a land.

    The copy¹¹⁴ of your speed is learned by them:

    For when you should be told they do prepare,

    The tidings comes that they are all arrived.

KING JOHN    O, where hath our intelligence¹¹⁷ been drunk?

    Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s care¹¹⁸,

    That such an army could be drawn¹¹⁹ in France,

    And she not hear of it?

MESSENGER    My liege, her ear

    Is stopped with dust: the first of April died

    Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord,

    The lady Constance in a frenzy¹²⁴ died

    Three days before: but this from Rumour’s tongue

    I idly¹²⁶ heard: if true or false I know not.

KING JOHN    Withhold thy speed, dreadful Occasion¹²⁷:

    O, make a league¹²⁸ with me, till I have pleased

    My discontented peers. What? Mother dead?

    How wildly then walks my estate¹³⁰ in France!—

    Under whose conduct¹³¹ came those powers of France

    That thou for truth giv’st out¹³² are landed here?

MESSENGER    Under the dauphin.

KING JOHN    Thou hast made me giddy

    With these ill tidings.

Enter [the] Bastard and Peter of Pomfret

              Now, what says the world

    To your proceedings¹³⁶? Do not seek to stuff

    My head with more ill news, for it is full.

BASTARD    But if you be afeard¹³⁸ to hear the worst,

    Then let the worst unheard fall on your head¹³⁹.

KING JOHN    Bear with me cousin, for I was amazed¹⁴⁰

    Under the tide¹⁴¹: but now I breathe again

    Aloft¹⁴² the flood, and can give audience

    To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

BASTARD    How I have sped¹⁴⁴ among the clergymen,

    The sums I have collected shall express¹⁴⁵:

    But as I travelled hither through the land,

    I find the people strangely fantasied¹⁴⁷:

    Possessed with rumours, full of idle¹⁴⁸ 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 heels¹⁵²:

    To whom he sung in rude¹⁵³ harsh-sounding rhymes,

    That ere the next Ascension Day¹⁵⁴ at noon,

    Your highness should deliver up¹⁵⁵ your crown.

KING JOHN    Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?

PETER    Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.

KING 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 hanged.

    Deliver him to safety¹⁶¹, and return,

    For I must use thee.—

[Exeunt Hubert and Peter]

              O my gentle cousin,

    Hear’st thou the news abroad¹⁶³, who are arrived?

BASTARD    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, who they say is killed tonight¹⁶⁸

    On your suggestion¹⁶⁹.

KING JOHN    Gentle kinsman, go,

    And thrust thyself into their companies.

    I have a way to win their loves again:

    Bring them before me.

BASTARD    I will seek them out.

KING JOHN    Nay, but make haste: the better foot before¹⁷⁵.

    O, let me have no subject enemies¹⁷⁶,

    When adverse¹⁷⁷ foreigners affright my towns

    With dreadful pomp of stout¹⁷⁸ invasion.

    Be Mercury¹⁷⁹, set feathers to thy heels,

    And fly like thought from them to me again.

BASTARD    The spirit of the time¹⁸¹ shall teach me speed.

Exit

KING JOHN    Spoke like a sprightful¹⁸² noble gentleman.

    Go after him: for he perhaps shall need

    Some messenger betwixt¹⁸⁴ me and the peers,

    And be thou he.

MESSENGER    With all my heart, my liege.

[Exit]

KING JOHN    My mother dead!

Enter Hubert

HUBERT    My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight¹⁸⁸:

    Four fixèd, and the fifth did whirl about

    The other four in wondrous¹⁹⁰ motion.

KING JOHN    Five moons?

HUBERT    Old men and beldams¹⁹² in the streets

    Do prophesy upon it¹⁹³ dangerously:

    Young Arthur’s death is common in their mouths,

    And when they talk of him, they shake their heads

    And whisper one¹⁹⁶ another in the ear.

    And he that speaks doth grip the hearer’s wrist,

    Whilst he that hears makes fearful action¹⁹⁸,

    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 feet²⁰⁵,

    Told of a many thousand²⁰⁶ warlike French

    That were embattailèd and ranked²⁰⁷ in Kent.

    Another lean, unwashed artificer²⁰⁸

    Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur’s death.

KING JOHN    Why seek’st thou to possess²¹⁰ me with these fears?

    Why urgest thou so oft²¹¹ young Arthur’s death?

    Thy hand hath murdered him: I had a mighty cause²¹²

    To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.

HUBERT    No had, my lord! Why, did you not provoke²¹⁴ me?

KING JOHN    It is the curse of kings to be attended

    By slaves that take their humours²¹⁶ for a warrant

    To break within the bloody house of life²¹⁷,

    And on the winking²¹⁸ of authority

    To understand a law²¹⁹, to know the meaning

    Of dangerous majesty, when perchance²²⁰ it frowns

    More upon humour than advised respect²²¹.

He shows a paper

HUBERT    Here is your hand²²² and seal for what I did.

KING JOHN    O, when the last account²²³ ’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 do²²⁶ ill deeds

    Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by²²⁷,

    A fellow by the hand of nature marked²²⁸,

    Quoted and signed²²⁹ to do a deed of shame,

    This murder had not come into my mind.

    But taking note of thy abhorred aspect²³¹,

    Finding thee fit for bloody villainy,

    Apt, liable²³³ to be employed in danger,

    I faintly broke²³⁴ with thee of Arthur’s death:

    And thou, to be endearèd to a king,

    Made it no conscience²³⁶ to destroy a prince.

HUBERT    My lord—

KING JOHN    Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause

    When I spake darkly²³⁹ what I purposèd,

    Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face,

    As bid me tell my tale in express²⁴¹ words,

    Deep shame had²⁴² struck me dumb, made me break off,

    And those thy fears might have wrought²⁴³ fears in me.

    But thou didst understand me by my signs

    And didst in signs again parley²⁴⁵ with sin:

    Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,

    And consequently thy rude²⁴⁷ 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 braved²⁵⁰,

    Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers;

    Nay, in the body of this fleshly land²⁵²,

    This kingdom, this confine²⁵³ of blood and breath,

    Hostility and civil tumult²⁵⁴ reigns

    Between my conscience and my cousin’s death.

HUBERT    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 maiden²⁵⁹ and an innocent hand,

    Not painted with the crimson spots of blood.

    Within this bosom never entered yet

    The dreadful motion²⁶² of a murderous thought;

    And you have slandered nature in my form²⁶³,

    Which, howsoever rude exteriorly²⁶⁴,

    Is yet the cover of a fairer mind

    Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

KING JOHN    Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers:

    Throw²⁶⁸ this report on their incensèd rage,

    And make them tame²⁶⁹ to their obedience.

    Forgive the comment that my passion made

    Upon thy feature, for my rage was blind,

    And foul imaginary eyes of blood²⁷²

    Presented thee more hideous than thou art.

    O, answer not, but to my closet²⁷⁴ bring

    The angry lords with all expedient haste.

    I conjure²⁷⁶ thee but slowly: run more fast.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 3

running scene 8

Enter Arthur, on the walls

Disguised as a ship-boy

ARTHUR    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 disguised me quite⁴.

    I am afraid, and yet I’ll venture⁵ it.

    If I get down, and do not break my limbs,

    I’ll find a thousand shifts⁷ to get away:

He leaps down

    As good to die and go, as die and stay⁸.

    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

SALISBURY    Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury¹¹:

    It is our safety¹², and we must embrace

    This gentle¹³ offer of the perilous time.

PEMBROKE    Who brought that letter from the cardinal?

SALISBURY    The count Melun, a noble lord of France,

    Whose private¹⁶ with me of the dauphin’s love

    Is much more general¹⁷ than these lines import.

BIGOT    Tomorrow morning let us meet him then.

SALISBURY    Or rather then set forward; for ’twill be

    Two long days’ journey, lords, or ere we²⁰ meet.

Enter [the] Bastard

BASTARD    Once more today well met, distempered²¹ lords:

    The king by me requests your presence straight²².

SALISBURY    The king hath dispossessed himself²³ of us:

    We will not line his thin bestainèd cloak²⁴

    With our pure honours, nor attend the foot²⁵

    That leaves the print of blood where’er it walks.

    Return and tell him so: we know the worst.

BASTARD    Whate’er you think, good words, I think, were best.

SALISBURY    Our griefs, and not our manners, reason²⁹ now.

BASTARD    But there is little reason in your grief.

    Therefore ’twere reason you had manners now.

PEMBROKE    Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege³².

BASTARD    ’Tis true, to hurt his master, no man’s else³³.

Sees Arthur’s body

SALISBURY    This is the prison. What is he lies here?

PEMBROKE    O, death, made proud with pure and princely beauty:

    The earth had not a hole to hide this deed.

SALISBURY    Murder, as³⁷ hating what himself hath done,

    Doth lay it open³⁸ to urge on revenge.

BIGOT    Or whe³⁹n he doomed this beauty to a grave,

    Found it too precious-princely for a grave.

SALISBURY    Sir Richard, what think you? You have beheld⁴¹,

    Or have you read, or heard: or could you think,

    Or do you almost think⁴³, although you see,

    That you do see? Could thought, without this object⁴⁴,

    Form such another? This is the very top,

    The height, the crest⁴⁶, or crest unto the crest,

    Of murder’s arms⁴⁷: this is the bloodiest shame,

    The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,

    That ever wall-eyed⁴⁹ wrath or staring rage

    Presented to the tears of soft remorse⁵⁰.

PEMBROKE    All murders past do stand excused in⁵¹ this:

    And this, so sole⁵² and so unmatchable,

    Shall give a holiness, a purity,

    To the yet unbegotten sin of times⁵⁴,

    And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,

    Exampled by this heinous⁵⁶ spectacle.

BASTARD    It is a damnèd and a bloody work:

    The graceless action of a heavy⁵⁸ hand,

    If that it be the work of any hand.

SALISBURY    If that it be the work of any hand?

    We had a kind of light⁶¹ what would ensue:

    It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand,

    The practice⁶³ and the purpose of the king:

    From whose obedience I forbid my soul,

    Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,

    And breathing to his breathless⁶⁶ excellence

    The incense⁶⁷ of a vow, a holy vow:

    Never to taste the pleasures of the world,

    Never to be infected⁶⁹ with delight,

    Nor conversant with ease and idleness,

    Till I have set⁷¹ a glory to this hand,

    By giving it the worship⁷² of revenge.

PEMBROKE AND BIGOT    Our souls religiously confirm⁷³ thy words.

Enter Hubert

HUBERT    Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you:

    Arthur doth live: the king hath sent for you.

SALISBURY    O, he is bold, and blushes not at death.—

    Avaunt⁷⁷, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!

HUBERT    I am no villain.

Draws his sword

SALISBURY    Must I rob the law⁷⁹?

BASTARD    Your sword is bright, sir: put it up⁸¹ again.

SALISBURY    Not till I sheathe it in a murderer’s skin⁸¹.

HUBERT    Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say:

Draws his sword

    By heaven, I think my sword’s as sharp as yours.

    I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,

    Nor tempt the danger of my true defence⁸⁵;

    Lest I, by marking⁸⁶ of your rage, forget

    Your worth, your greatness and nobility.

BIGOT    Out, dunghill! Dar’st thou brave⁸⁸ a nobleman?

HUBERT    Not for my life: but yet I dare defend

    My innocent life against an emperor.

SALISBURY    Thou art a murderer.

HUBERT    Do not prove me so⁹²:

    Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe’er⁹³ speaks false,

    Not truly speaks: who speaks not truly, lies.

PEMBROKE    Cut him to pieces.

BASTARD    Keep the peace, I say.

SALISBURY    Stand by, or I shall gall⁹⁷ you, Falconbridge.

BASTARD    Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury:

    If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot,

    Or teach thy hasty spleen¹⁰⁰ to do me shame,

    I’ll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime¹⁰¹,

    Or I’ll so maul you and your toasting-iron¹⁰²,

    That you shall think the devil is come from hell.

BIGOT    What wilt thou do, renownèd Falconbridge?

    Second¹⁰⁵ a villain and a murderer?

HUBERT    Lord Bigot, I am none.

BIGOT    Who killed this prince?

HUBERT    ’Tis not an hour since I left him well:

    I honoured him, I loved him, and will weep

    My date¹¹⁰ of life out for his sweet life’s loss.

SALISBURY    Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,

    For villainy is not without such rheum¹¹²,

    And he, long traded¹¹³ in it, makes it seem

    Like rivers of remorse and innocency.

    Away with me, all you whose souls abhor

    Th’uncleanly savours¹¹⁶ of a slaughter-house,

    For I am stifled with this smell of sin.

BIGOT    Away toward Bury, to the dauphin there.

PEMBROKE    There tell the king he may inquire us out¹¹⁹.

Exeunt Lords

BASTARD    Here’s a good world! Knew you of this fair work?

    Beyond the infinite and boundless reach

    Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death,

    Art thou damned, Hubert.

HUBERT    Do but hear me, sir.

BASTARD    Ha! I’ll tell thee what:

    Thou’rt damned as black¹²⁶ — nay, nothing is so black —

    Thou art more deep damned than Prince Lucifer¹²⁷:

    There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell

    As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.

HUBERT    Upon my soul—

BASTARD                    If thou didst but consent

    To this most cruel act, do but¹³¹ despair:

    And if thou want’st a cord¹³², the smallest thread

    That ever spider twisted from her womb

    Will serve to strangle thee: a rush¹³⁴ will be a beam

    To hang thee on: or wouldst¹³⁵ thou drown thyself,

    Put but a little water in a spoon,

    And it shall be as all the ocean,

    Enough to stifle¹³⁸ such a villain up.

    I do suspect thee very grievously¹³⁹.

HUBERT    If I in act, consent, or sin of thought,

    Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath

    Which was embounded in this beauteous clay¹⁴²,

    Let hell want¹⁴³ pains enough to torture me:

    I left him well.

BASTARD    Go, bear him in thine arms:

    I am amazed¹⁴⁶, methinks, and lose my way

    Among the thorns and dangers of this world.

    How easy dost thou take all England up¹⁴⁸!

    From forth this morsel of dead royalty,

    The life, the right, and truth of all this realm

    Is fled to heaven: and England now is left

    To tug and scamble and to part¹⁵² by th’teeth

    The unowed interest¹⁵³ of proud-swelling state:

    Now for the bare-picked bone of majesty¹⁵⁴

    Doth doggèd war bristle his angry crest¹⁵⁵

    And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:

    Now powers from home and discontents¹⁵⁷ at home

    Meet in one line: and vast confusion¹⁵⁸ waits,

    As doth a raven on a sick-fall’n beast,

    The imminent decay of wrested pomp¹⁶⁰.

    Now happy he whose cloak and cincture¹⁶¹ can

    Hold out¹⁶² this tempest. Bear away that child

    And follow me with speed: I’ll to the king:

    A thousand businesses are brief in hand¹⁶⁴,

    And heaven itself doth frown upon the land.

Hubert carrying the body of Arthur

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 1

running scene 9

Enter King John and Pandulph, [with] Attendants

KING JOHN    Thus have I yielded up into your hand

Giving Cardinal Pandulph the crown

    The circle of my glory².

CARDINAL PANDULPH    Take again

Returning the crown to King John

    From this my hand, as holding of⁴ the Pope

    Your sovereign greatness and authority.

KING JOHN    Now keep your holy word: go meet the French,

    And from his holiness use all your power

    To stop their marches ’fore we are inflamed⁸:

    Our discontented counties⁹ do revolt:

    Our people quarrel with obedience,

    Swearing allegiance and the love of soul¹¹

    To stranger¹² blood, to foreign royalty;

    This inundation of mistempered humour¹³

    Rests by you only to be qualified¹⁴.

    Then pause not: for the present time’s so sick,

    That present med’cine must be ministered¹⁶,

    Or overthrow¹⁷ incurable ensues.

CARDINAL PANDULPH    It was my breath that blew this tempest up,

    Upon your stubborn usage¹⁹ of the Pope:

    But since you are a gentle convertite²⁰,

    My tongue shall hush again this storm of war

    And make fair weather in your blust’ring²² land:

    On this Ascension Day, remember well,

    Upon your oath of service to the Pope,

    Go I to make the French lay down their arms.

Exeunt [all but King John]

KING JOHN    Is this Ascension Day? Did not the prophet

    Say that before Ascension Day at noon

    My crown I should give off²⁸? Even so I have:

    I did suppose it should be on constraint²⁹,

    But, heav’n be thanked, it is but voluntary.

Enter [the] Bastard

BASTARD    All Kent hath yielded: nothing there holds out

    But Dover Castle: London hath received,

    Like a kind host, the dauphin and his powers.

    Your nobles will not hear³⁴ you, but are gone

    To offer service to your enemy:

    And wild amazement hurries up and down

    The little number of your doubtful³⁷ friends.

KING JOHN    Would not my lords return to me again

    After they heard young Arthur was alive?

BASTARD    They found him dead and cast into the streets,

    An empty casket, where the jewel of life

    By some damned hand was robbed and ta’en away.

KING JOHN    That villain Hubert told me he did live.

BASTARD    So on my soul he did, for aught he knew:

    But wherefore do you droop⁴⁵? Why look you sad?

    Be great in act as you have been in thought:

    Let not the world see fear and sad distrust

    Govern the motion⁴⁸ of a kingly eye:

    Be stirring as the time⁴⁹, be fire with fire,

    Threaten the threat’ner and outface the brow⁵⁰

    Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes⁵¹,

    That borrow their behaviours from⁵² the great,

    Grow great by your example, and put on

    The dauntless spirit of resolution.

    Away, and glisten like the god of war⁵⁵

    When he intendeth to become the field⁵⁶:

    Show boldness and aspiring confidence:

    What, shall they seek the lion in his den,

    And fright him there? And make him tremble there?

    O, let it not be said: forage⁶⁰, and run

    To meet displeasure farther from the doors,

    And grapple with him ere he come so nigh⁶².

KING JOHN    The legate of the Pope hath been with me,

    And I have made a happy⁶⁴ peace with him,

    And he hath promised to dismiss the powers

    Led by the dauphin.

BASTARD    O inglorious⁶⁷ league!

    Shall we, upon the footing of our land⁶⁸,

    Send fair-play⁶⁹ orders, and make compromise,

    Insinuation, parley and base⁷⁰ truce

    To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy,

    A cockered silken wanton, brave⁷² our fields,

    And flesh⁷³ his spirit in a warlike soil,

    Mocking the air with colours idly⁷⁴ spread,

    And find no check⁷⁵? Let us, my liege, to arms:

    Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace;

    Or if he do, let it at least be said

    They saw we had a purpose⁷⁸ of defence.

KING JOHN    Have thou the ordering⁷⁹ of this present time.

Aside

BASTARD    Away, then, with good courage!— Yet, I know,

    Our party may well meet a prouder⁸¹ foe.

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 2

running scene 10

Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigot [and] Soldiers

LEWIS    My lord Melun, let this be copied out,

    And keep it safe for our remembrance:

    Return the precedent³ to these lords again,

    That having our fair order⁴ written down,

    Both they and we, perusing o’er these notes,

    May know wherefore we took the sacrament⁶

    And keep our faiths⁷ firm and inviolable.

SALISBURY    Upon our sides it never shall be broken.

    And, noble dauphin, albeit⁹ we swear

    A voluntary zeal and an unurged faith

    To your proceedings: yet believe me, prince,

    I am not glad that such a sore of time¹²

    Should seek a plaster by contemned¹³ revolt,

    And heal the inveterate canker¹⁴ of one wound

    By making many: O, it grieves my soul

    That I must draw this metal¹⁶ from my side

    To be a widow-maker: O, and there

    Where honourable rescue and defence¹⁸

    Cries out upon¹⁹ the name of Salisbury!

    But such is the infection of the time,

    That for the health and physic²¹ of our right,

    We cannot deal but²² with the very hand

    Of stern injustice and confusèd²³ wrong:

    And is’t not pity, O my grievèd friends,

    That we, the sons and children of this isle,

    Was born to see so sad an hour as this,

    Wherein we step after a stranger²⁷, march

    Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up

    Her enemies’ ranks? I must withdraw and weep

    Upon the spot³⁰ of this enforcèd cause —

    To grace³¹ the gentry of a land remote,

    And follow unacquainted³² colours here.

    What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove³³,

    That Neptune’s arms who clippeth³⁴ thee about,

    Would bear³⁵ thee from the knowledge of thyself,

    And grapple thee unto a pagan shore³⁶,

    Where these two Christian armies might combine

    The blood of malice in a vein of league,

    And not to spend it so unneighbourly³⁹.

LEWIS    A noble temper⁴⁰ dost thou show in this,

    And great affections⁴¹ wrestling in thy bosom

    Doth make an earthquake⁴² of nobility.

    O, what a noble combat hast thou fought

    Between compulsion and a brave respect⁴⁴:

    Let me wipe off this honourable dew⁴⁵,

    That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks:

    My heart hath melted at a lady’s tears,

    Being an ordinary⁴⁸ inundation:

    But this effusion of such manly drops,

    This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul,

    Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amazed

    Than had I seen the vaulty⁵² top of heaven

    Figured⁵³ quite o’er with burning meteors.

    Lift up thy brow, renownèd Salisbury,

    And with a great heart heave⁵⁵ away this storm:

    Commend these waters to those baby eyes⁵⁶

    That never saw the giant world enraged,

    Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,

    Full warm of blood⁵⁹, of mirth, of gossiping:

    Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep

    Into the purse of rich prosperity

    As Lewis himself: so, nobles⁶², shall you all,

    That knit your sinews⁶³ to the strength of mine.

    And even there methinks an angel⁶⁴ spake.

Enter Cardinal Pandulph

    Look where the holy legate comes apace⁶⁵,

    To give us warrant from the hand of heaven

    And on our actions set the name of right

    With holy breath.

CARDINAL PANDULPH    Hail, noble Prince of France!

    The next is this: King John hath reconciled

    Himself to Rome: his spirit is come in⁷¹

    That so stood out against the Holy Church,

    The great metropolis and see⁷³ of Rome.

    Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up⁷⁴,

    And tame the savage spirit of wild war,

    That like a lion fostered up at hand⁷⁶,

    It may lie gently at the foot of peace,

    And be no further harmful than in show⁷⁸.

LEWIS    Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back⁷⁹:

    I am too high-born to be propertied⁸⁰,

    To be a secondary at control⁸¹,

    Or useful serving-man and instrument

    To any sovereign state throughout the world.

    Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars

    Between this chastised kingdom and myself,

    And brought in matter that should feed this fire;

    And now ’tis far too huge to be blown out

    With that same weak wind which enkindled it:

    You taught me how to know the face of right⁸⁹,

    Acquainted me with interest⁹⁰ to this land,

    Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;

    And come ye now to tell me John hath made

    His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?

    I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,

    After young Arthur, claim this land for mine:

    And, now it is half-conquered, must I back

    Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?

    Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath Rome borne⁹⁸,

    What men provided, what munition sent,

    To underprop¹⁰⁰ this action? Is’t not I

    That undergo this charge¹⁰¹? Who else but I,

    And such as to my claim are liable¹⁰²,

    Sweat in this business and maintain this war?

    Have I not heard these islanders shout out

    ‘Vive le roi’ as I have banked¹⁰⁵ their towns?

    Have I not here the best cards for the game

    To win this easy match played for a crown¹⁰⁷?

    And shall I now give o’er the yielded set¹⁰⁸?

    No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.

CARDINAL PANDULPH    You look but on the outside of this work.

LEWIS    Outside or inside, I will not return

    Till my attempt so much be glorified

    As to my ample¹¹³ hope was promisèd

    Before I drew this gallant head¹¹⁴ of war,

    And culled¹¹⁵ these fiery spirits from the world

    To outlook¹¹⁶ conquest and to win renown

    Even in the jaws of danger and of death.

Trumpet sounds

    What lusty¹¹⁸ trumpet thus doth summon us?

Enter [the] Bastard

BASTARD    According to¹¹⁹ the fair play of the world,

    Let me have audience¹²⁰: I am sent to speak.

    My holy lord of Milan, from the king

    I come to learn how you have dealt for him¹²²:

    And, as you answer, I do know the scope¹²³

    And warrant limited¹²⁴ unto my tongue.

CARDINAL PANDULPH    The dauphin is too wilful-opposite¹²⁵,

    And will not temporize¹²⁶ with my entreaties:

    He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.

BASTARD    By all the blood that ever fury breathed,

    The youth says well. Now hear our English king,

    For thus his royalty doth speak in me:

    He is prepared, and reason¹³¹ too he should:

    This apish and unmannerly¹³² approach,

    This harnessed masque and unadvisèd¹³³ revel,

    This unheard¹³⁴ sauciness and boyish troops,

    The king doth smile at, and is well prepared

    To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy¹³⁶ arms,

    From out the circle of his territories.

    That hand which had the strength, even at your door,

    To cudgel you and make you take the hatch¹³⁹,

    To dive like buckets in concealèd wells,

    To crouch in litter of your stable planks¹⁴¹,

    To lie like pawns¹⁴² locked up in chests and trunks,

    To hug¹⁴³ with swine, to seek sweet safety out

    In vaults and prisons, and to thrill¹⁴⁴ and shake

    Even at the crying of your nation’s crow¹⁴⁵,

    Thinking this voice an armèd Englishman:

    Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,

    That in your chambers gave you chastisement?

    No: know the gallant monarch is in arms

    And like an eagle o’er his eyrie¹⁵⁰ towers,

    To souse¹⁵¹ annoyance that comes near his nest:

    And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts¹⁵²,

    You bloody Neroes¹⁵³, ripping up the womb

    Of your dear mother England, blush for shame:

    For your own ladies and pale-visaged maids

    Like Amazons come tripping¹⁵⁶ after drums:

    Their thimbles into armèd gauntlets¹⁵⁷ change,

    Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts

    To fierce and bloody inclination.

LEWIS    There end thy brave, and turn thy face¹⁶⁰ in peace:

    We grant thou canst outscold¹⁶¹ us: fare thee well:

    We hold our time too precious to be spent

    With such a brabbler¹⁶³.

CARDINAL PANDULPH    Give me leave to speak.

BASTARD    No, I will speak.

LEWIS    We will attend¹⁶⁶ to neither.

    Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war

    Plead for our interest and our being here.

BASTARD    Indeed your drums, being beaten, will cry out;

    And so shall you, being beaten: do but start

    An echo with the clamour of thy drum,

    And even at hand a drum is ready braced¹⁷²

    That shall reverberate all as loud as thine.

    Sound but another, and another shall

    As loud as thine rattle the welkin’s¹⁷⁵ ear

    And mock the deep-mouthed thunder: for at hand —

    Not trusting to this halting¹⁷⁷ legate here,

    Whom he hath used rather for sport¹⁷⁸ than need —

    Is warlike John: and in his forehead¹⁷⁹ sits

    A bare-ribbed Death, whose office¹⁸⁰ is this day

    To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

LEWIS    Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.

BASTARD    And thou shalt find¹⁸³ it, dauphin, do not doubt.

Exeunt [at different doors]

Act 5 Scene 3

running scene 11

Alarums. Enter King John and Hubert [at different doors]

KING JOHN    How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.

HUBERT    Badly, I fear. How fares your majesty?

KING JOHN    This fever that hath troubled me so long

    Lies heavy on me: O, my heart is sick!

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER    My lord, your valiant kinsman Falconbridge

    Desires your majesty to leave the field

    And send him word by me which way you go.

KING JOHN    Tell him toward Swinstead⁸, to the abbey there.

MESSENGER    Be of good comfort, for the great supply⁹

    That was expected by the dauphin here

    Are wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands¹¹.

    This news was brought to Richard¹² but even now:

    The French fight coldly and retire themselves¹³.

KING JOHN    Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up,

    And will not let me welcome this good news.

    Set on toward Swinstead: to my litter¹⁶ straight;

    Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 4

running scene 11 continues

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot

SALISBURY    I did not think the king so stored¹ with friends.

PEMBROKE    Up once again²: put spirit in the French:

    If they miscarry³, we miscarry too.

SALISBURY    That misbegotten⁴ devil Falconbridge

    In spite of spite⁵, alone upholds the day.

PEMBROKE    They say King John, sore⁶ sick, hath left the field.

Enter Melun, wounded

MELUN    Lead me to the revolts⁷ of England here.

SALISBURY    When we were happy we had other names.

PEMBROKE    It is the count Melun.

SALISBURY    Wounded to death.

MELUN    Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold¹¹:

    Unthread the rude eye¹² of rebellion

    And welcome home again discarded faith:

    Seek out King John and fall before his feet:

    For if the French be lords of this loud day,

    He¹⁶ means to recompense the pains you take

    By cutting off your heads: thus hath he sworn

    And I with him, and many more with me,

    Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury;

    Even on that altar where we swore to you

    Dear amity and everlasting love.

SALISBURY    May this be possible? May this be true?

MELUN    Have I not hideous death within my view,

    Retaining but a quantity²⁴ of life,

    Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax

    Resolveth from his figure²⁶ gainst the fire?

    What in the world should make me now deceive,

    Since I must lose the use²⁸ of all deceit?

    Why should I then be false, since it is true

    That I must die here and live hence³⁰ by truth?

    I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

    He is forsworn³² if e’er those eyes of yours

    Behold another daybreak in the east:

    But even this night, whose black contagious breath

    Already smokes³⁵ about the burning crest

    Of the old, feeble and day-wearied sun,

    Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire,

    Paying the fine of rated³⁸ treachery

    Even with a treacherous fine³⁹ of all your lives,

    If Lewis by your assistance win the day.

    Commend me to one Hubert with your king:

    The love of him, and this respect⁴² besides,

    For that my grandsire was an Englishman,

    Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

    In lieu whereof⁴⁵, I pray you, bear me hence

    From forth the noise and rumour⁴⁶ of the field,

    Where I may think the remnant⁴⁷ of my thoughts

    In peace, and part this body and my soul

    With contemplation and devout desires.

SALISBURY    We do believe thee, and beshrew⁵⁰ my soul,

    But I do love the favour and the form⁵¹

    Of this most fair occasion, by the which

    We will untread⁵³ the steps of damnèd flight,

    And like a bated⁵⁴ and retirèd flood,

    Leaving our rankness⁵⁵ and irregular course,

    Stoop low within those bounds⁵⁶ we have o’erlooked

    And calmly run on in obedience

    Even to our ocean, to our great King John.

    My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence,

    For I do see the cruel pangs of death

    Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight⁶¹,

    And happy newness, that intends old right⁶².

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 5

running scene 12

Enter Lewis and his train

LEWIS    The sun of heaven, methought, was loath¹ to set,

    But stayed and made the western welkin² blush,

    When English measure³ backward their own ground

    In faint retire: O, bravely came we off⁴,

    When with a volley of our needless⁵ shot,

    After such bloody toil, we bid goodnight,

    And wound our tott’ring⁷ colours clearly up,

    Last in the field, and almost lords of it.

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER    Where is my prince, the dauphin?

LEWIS    Here: what news?

MESSENGER    The count Melun is slain: the English lords

    By his persuasion are again fall’n off¹²,

    And your supply, which you have wished so long,

    Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.

LEWIS    Ah, foul shrewd¹⁵ news! Beshrew thy very heart!

    I did not think to be so sad tonight

    As this hath made me. Who was he that said

    King John did fly an hour or two before

    The stumbling¹⁹ night did part our weary powers?

MESSENGER    Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

LEWIS    Well: keep good quarter²¹ and good care tonight:

    The day shall not be up so soon as I,

    To try the fair adventure²³ of tomorrow.

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 6

running scene 13

Enter [the] Bastard and Hubert, severally

HUBERT    Who’s there? Speak, ho! Speak quickly, or I shoot.

BASTARD    A friend. What art thou?

HUBERT    Of the part³ of England.

BASTARD    Whither dost thou go?

HUBERT    What’s that to thee? Why may not I demand

    Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?

BASTARD    Hubert, I think?

HUBERT    Thou hast a perfect⁸ thought:

    I will upon all hazards⁹ well believe

    Thou art my friend, that know’st my tongue so well.

    Who art thou?

BASTARD    Who thou wilt: and if thou please,

    Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think

    I come one way of¹⁴ the Plantagenets.

HUBERT    Unkind remembrance¹⁵! Thou and endless night

    Have done me shame: brave soldier, pardon me,

    That any accent breaking¹⁷ from thy tongue

    Should scape¹⁸ the true acquaintance of mine ear.

BASTARD    Come, come: sans compliment: what news abroad¹⁹?

HUBERT    Why, here walk I in the black brow of night,

    To find you out²¹.

BASTARD    Brief²², then: and what’s the news?

HUBERT    O my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,

    Black, fearful, comfortless and horrible.

BASTARD    Show me the very wound²⁵ of this ill news:

    I am no woman, I’ll not swoon at it.

HUBERT    The king, I fear, is poisoned by a monk:

    I left him almost speechless, and broke out²⁸

    To acquaint you with this evil, that you might

    The better arm you to the sudden time³⁰,

    Than if you had at leisure³¹ known of this.

BASTARD    How did he take it? Who did taste³² to him?

HUBERT    A monk, I tell you, a resolvèd villain,

    Whose bowels³⁴ suddenly burst out: the king

    Yet speaks and peradventure³⁵ may recover.

BASTARD    Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?

HUBERT    Why, know you not? The lords are all come back,

    And brought Prince Henry³⁸ in their company,

    At whose request the king hath pardoned them,

    And they are all about his majesty.

BASTARD    Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,

    And tempt us not to bear above our power⁴².

    I’ll tell thee, Hubert, half my power⁴³ this night,

    Passing these flats⁴⁴, are taken by the tide:

    These Lincoln Washes⁴⁵ have devourèd them:

    Myself, well mounted, hardly⁴⁶ have escaped.

    Away before⁴⁷: conduct me to the king:

    I doubt he will be dead or ere⁴⁸ I come.

Exeunt

Act 5 Scene 7

running scene 14

Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot

PRINCE HENRY    It is too late: the life of all his blood

    Is touched corruptibly, and his pure² brain,

    Which some suppose the soul’s frail dwelling-house,

    Doth by the idle⁴ comments that it makes

    Foretell the ending of mortality.

Enter Pembroke

PEMBROKE    His highness yet doth speak, and holds belief

    That, being brought into the open air,

    It would allay the burning quality

    Of that fell⁹ poison which assaileth him.

PRINCE HENRY    Let him be brought into the orchard¹⁰ here.

[Exit Bigot]

    Doth he still rage¹¹?

PEMBROKE    He is more patient

    Than when you left him; even now he sung.

PRINCE HENRY    O vanity¹⁴ of sickness! Fierce extremes

    In their continuance will not feel themselves¹⁵.

    Death, having preyed upon the outward parts,

    Leaves them invisible¹⁷, and his siege is now

    Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds

    With many legions¹⁹ of strange fantasies,

    Which, in their throng and press to that last hold²⁰,

    Confound²¹ themselves. ’Tis strange that death should sing.

    I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan²²,

    Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,

    And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings

    His soul and body to their lasting rest.

SALISBURY    Be of good comfort, Prince, for you are born

    To set a form upon that indigest²⁷

    Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude²⁸.

King John [is] brought in

KING JOHN    Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room²⁹:

    It would not out at windows nor at doors:

    There is so hot a summer in my bosom

    That all my bowels crumble up to dust:

    I am a scribbled form³³, drawn with a pen

    Upon a parchment, and against this fire

    Do I shrink up.

PRINCE HENRY    How fares your majesty?

KING JOHN    Poisoned, ill fare: dead, forsook³⁷, cast off:

    And none of you will bid the winter come

    To thrust his icy fingers in my maw³⁹,

    Nor let my kingdom’s rivers take their course

    Through my burned bosom, nor entreat the north⁴¹

    To make his bleak winds kiss my parchèd lips

    And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much,

    I beg cold comfort: and you are so strait⁴⁴

    And so ingrateful⁴⁵, you deny me that.

PRINCE HENRY    O that there were some virtue⁴⁶ in my tears,

    That might relieve you!

KING JOHN    The salt in them is hot.

    Within me is a hell, and there the poison

    Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannize

    On unreprievable condemnèd blood.

Enter [the] Bastard

BASTARD    O, I am scalded with my violent motion⁵²

    And spleen⁵³ of speed to see your majesty!

KING JOHN    O cousin, thou art come to set⁵⁴ mine eye:

    The tackle⁵⁵ of my heart is cracked and burnt,

    And all the shrouds⁵⁶ wherewith my life should sail

    Are turnèd to one thread, one little hair:

    My heart hath one poor string to stay⁵⁸ it by,

    Which holds but till thy news be utterèd:

    And then all this thou see’st is but a clod⁶⁰

    And module of confounded⁶¹ royalty.

BASTARD    The dauphin is preparing hitherward⁶²,

    Where heaven he⁶³ knows how we shall answer him:

    For in a night the best part of my power,

    As I upon advantage did remove⁶⁵,

    Were in the Washes all unwarily

    Devourèd by the unexpected flood⁶⁷.

King John dies

SALISBURY    You breathe these dead⁶⁸ news in as dead an ear.—

To King John

    My liege, my lord!— But now a king, now thus⁶⁹.

PRINCE HENRY    Even so⁷⁰ must I run on, and even so stop.

    What surety of the world, what hope, what stay⁷¹,

    When this was now a king, and now is clay?

To King John

BASTARD    Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind

    To do the office for thee of revenge,

    And then my soul shall wait on⁷⁵ thee to heaven,

    As it on earth hath been thy servant still⁷⁶.—

To the Lords

    Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres⁷⁷,

    Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths,

    And instantly return with me again,

    To push destruction and perpetual shame

    Out of the weak door of our fainting land:

    Straight⁸² let us seek, or straight we shall be sought:

    The dauphin rages at our very heels.

SALISBURY    It seems you know not, then, so much as we:

    The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,

    Who half an hour since came from the dauphin,

    And brings from him such offers of our peace

    As we with honour and respect⁸⁸ may take,

    With purpose presently⁸⁹ to leave this war.

BASTARD    He will the rather⁹⁰ do it when he sees

    Ourselves well sinewèd⁹¹ to our defence.

SALISBURY    Nay, ’tis in a manner done already,

    For many carriages⁹³ he hath dispatched

    To the seaside, and put his cause and quarrel

    To the disposing⁹⁵ of the cardinal,

    With whom yourself, myself and other lords,

    If you think meet, this afternoon will post⁹⁷

    To consummate⁹⁸ this business happily.

BASTARD    Let it be so.— And you, my noble prince,

    With other princes¹⁰⁰ that may best be spared,

    Shall wait upon¹⁰¹ your father’s funeral.

PRINCE HENRY    At Worcester must his body be interred;

    For so he willed it.

BASTARD    Thither shall it then,

    And happily¹⁰⁵ may your sweet self put on

    The lineal state¹⁰⁶ and glory of the land,

    To whom with all submission, on my knee

    I do bequeath¹⁰⁸ my faithful services

He kneels

    And true subjection everlastingly.

SALISBURY    And the like tender¹¹⁰ of our love we make,

The Lords kneel

    To rest without a spot¹¹¹ for ever more.

PRINCE HENRY    I have a kind soul that would give thanks

He weeps

    And knows not how to do it but with tears.

Rising

BASTARD    O, let us pay the time but needful woe¹¹⁴,

    Since it hath been beforehand¹¹⁵ with our griefs.

    This England never did, nor never shall,

    Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,

    But¹¹⁸ when it first did help to wound itself.

    Now these her princes are come home again,

    Come the three corners¹²⁰ of the world in arms,

    And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue¹²¹,

    If England to itself do rest¹²² but true.

Exeunt