K. John. Oh, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath it flept? where is my Mother's care? That such an army fhould be drawn in France, And the not hear of it?
Mef. My Liege, her ear
Is ftopt with duft: the first 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 Rumour's tongue
I idely heard; if true or falfe, I know not.
K. John. With-hold thy fpeed, dreadful Occafion!
O make a league with me, till I have pleas'd
My discontented Peers. What! Mother dead?
How wildly then walks my eftate in France?
Under whose conduct came thofe Powers of France,
That, thou for truth giv'ft out, are landed here?
Mef. Under the Dauphin.
Enter Faulconbridge, and Peter of Pomfret.
K. John. Thou haft made me giddy
With these ill tidings. Now, what fays the world
To your proceedings? Do not feek to ftuff
My head with more ill news, for it is full.
Faulc. 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 breathe again
Aloft the flood, and can give audience
To any tongue, fpeak it of what it will.
Faulc. How I have fped among the Clergy-men,
The fums I have collected fhall exprefs.
But as I travell'd hither through the Land,
I find the People ftrangely 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 harfh-founding rhimes,
VOL. III.
That, ere the next Afcenfion-day at noon,
Your Highness fhould deliver up your Crown.
K. John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore did'ft 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 says
I fhall yield up my Crown, let him be hang'd.
Deliver him to safety, and return,
For I must use thee.O my gentle Coufin,
[Exit Hubert, with Peter.
Hear'ft thou the News abroad, who are arriv'd?
Faulc. 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, who, they fay, is kill'd to night
On your fuggeftion.
K. John. Gentle kinsman, go
And thruft thy felf into their company:
I have a way to win their loves again :
Bring them before me.
Faulc. I will feek 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 ftout invafion,
Be Mercury, fet feathers to thy heels;
And fly, like thought, from them to me again.
Faulc. The Spirit of the time fhall teach me fpeed.
[Exit.
K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman.
Go after him; for he, perhaps, fhall need
Some meffenger betwixt me and the Peers;
And be thou he.
Mef. With all my heart, my Liege.
K. John. My mother dead!
Enter Hubert.
Hub. My lord, they fay, five moons were feen to night:
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about
The ather four, in wond'rous motion.
K. John. Five moons?
Hub. Old men and beldams, in the streets, Do prophefie upon it dangeroufly:
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths;
And, when they talk of him, they fhake their heads,
And whisper one another in the ear.
And he, that fpeaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist,
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 the anvil cool,
With open mouth fwallowing a taylor's news;
Who with his fhears and measure in his hand,
Standing on flippers, which his nimble hafte
Had fallely thrust upon contrary feet,
Told of a many thoufand 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 these fears?
Why urgest thou fo oft young Arthur's death?
Thy hand hath murther'd him: I had a caufe
To with him dead, but thou had'ft none to kill him.
Hub. Had none, my lord? why, did you
K. John. It is the curfe of Kings, to be attended By flaves that take their humours for a Warrant, To break into the bloody house of life:
And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law, to know the meaning
Of dang❜rous Majefty; when, perchance, it frowns
More upon humour, than advis'd refpect.
Hub. Here is your hand and feal, for what I did.
K. John. Oh, when the laft Account 'twixt heav'n and
Is to be made, then shall this hand and feal
Witness against us to damnation.
How oft the fight of means, to do ill deeds,
Makes deeds ill done? for hadft not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted, and fign'd to do a deed of fhame,
This murther had not come into my mind.
But taking note of thy abhorr'd 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,
Mad'ft it no confcience to deftroy a Prince.
Hub. My lord-
K. John. Hadft thou but shook thy head, or made a pause,
When I fpake darkly what I purposed:
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,
Or bid me tell my tale in exprefs words;
Deep thame had ftruck me dumb, made me break off,
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me.
But thou didst understand me by my figns,
And didft in figns again parley with fin;
Yea, without ftop, did't let thy heart confent,
And confequently thy rude hand to act
The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name.
Out of my fight, and never see me more!
My Nobles leave me, and my state is brav'd,
Ev'n at my gates, with ranks of foreign Pow'rs;
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hoftility 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 foul 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 enter'd yet
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous 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.
SCENE, a Street before a Prifon.
Enter Arthur on the Walls, difguis'd.
Arth. Good ground, be pitiful,and hurt me not! TH
HE wall is high, and yet will I leap down.
There's few or none do know me: if they did,
This fhip-boy's femblance 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 fhifts to get away:
As good to die, and go; as die and stay. [Leaps down.
Oh me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones:
Heav'n take my foul, and England keep my bones!
Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot.
Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmondsbury ; It is our Safety; and we must embrace
This gentle offer of the perilous time.
Pem. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? 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 set forward, for 'twill be Two long days journey, lords, or ere we meet.
|
