Away with me all you, whofe fouls abhor
Th' uncleanly favour of a flaughter-house,
For I am ftifled with the smell of fin.

Bigat. Away tow'rd Bury, to the Dauphin there.
Pemb. There, tell the King, he may enquire us out.
[Exeunt Lords.
Faulc 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 damn'd, Hubert.

Hub. Do but hear me, Sir.

Faulc. Ha? I'll tell thee what,

Thou'rt damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black;
Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer.
There is not yet fo ugly a fiend of hell

As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub. Upon my foul-

Faulc. If thou didst but confent

To this moft cruel act, do but defpair,

And if thou want'ft a cord, the smallest thread,
That ever fpider twisted from her womb,
Will ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam
To hang thee on; or would't thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,
And it shall be as all the ocean,
Enough to ftifle fuch a villain up.
I do fufpect thee very grievously.

Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought,
Be guilty of the ftealing that sweet breath,
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms.

I am amaz'd, methinks, and lofe my way
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.
How eafy doft thou take all England up (23)!

From

(23) How eafy doft tbou take all England up,

From forth this morfel of dead royalty?] But how did Hubert ke England up, from forth the dead body of young Arthur? Mot

Laga

From forth this morfel of dead royalty,
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm
Is fled to heav'n; and England now is left
Το tug and scramble, and to part by th' teeth
The unowed intereft of proud-fwelling ftate.
Now for the bare-pickt bone of Majelty,
Doth dogged war briftle his angry creft;
And fnarleth in the gentle eyes of peace.
Now pow'rs from home and discontents at home
Meet in one line: and vaft confufion waits
(As doth a raven on a fick, fall'n beast)
The imminent decay of wrefted pomp.
Now happy he, whofe cloak and cincture can
Hold out this tempelt. Bear away that child,
And follow me with fpeed; I'll to the King;
A thousand businesses are brief at hand,
And heav'n itself doth frown upon the land.

[Exeunt.

fagacious Editor! The ftupid pointing, which has prevail'd in all the copies, makes ftark nonfenfe of the paffage. My pointing reftores t to its genuine purity. Faulconbridge, feeing Hubert take up the body of the dead Prince, makes two reflections:- How eafily, fays he, doft thou take up all England in that burden! and then, that the life, right, and truth of the realm was fled to heaven from out the breathlefs corfe of that flaughtered royalty, &c.

ACT

T

A CT

V.

SCENE, the Court of England.

Enter King John, Pandulph, and Attendants.

K. JOHN.

HUS I have yielded up into your hand
The circle of my glory.

Pand. Take again

[Giving the crown.

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope,

Your fovereign greatnefs and authority.

K. John. Now keep your holy word; go meet the French, And from his Holinefs ufe all your power

To ftop their marches, 'fore we are enflam'd.
Our difcontented counties do revolt;

Our people quarrel with obedience;

Swearing allegiance, and the love of foul,

豐

To ftranger blood, to foreign royalty:

This inundation of miftemper'd humour

Refts by you only to be qualify'd.

Then paufe not; for the prefent time's fo fick,
That prefent medicine must be ministred,

Or overthrow incurable enfues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempeft up,

Upon your ftubborn ufage of the Pope :

But fince you are a gentle convertite (24),

My

(24) But fince you are a gentle convertite.] i. e. a convert, (a penitent) as we now phrafe it: But in our Author's time, convertite was the term in fashion. We find him use it again more than once; In As you like it, fententious Jaques fays;

out of thefe convertites

There is much matter to be heard and learn'd.

And in his poem, call'd, Tarquin and Lucrece ;
He thence departs a heavy convertite;
She there remains a hopeless caft-away.

And

My tongue fhall bush again this ftorm of war;
And make fair weather in your bluft'ring land.
On this Afcenfion day, remember well,
Upon your oath of fervice to the Pope,

Gol to make the French lay down their arms.

[Exit.

K. John. Is this Afcenfion-day? did not the prophet Say, that before Afcenfion day at noon

My crown I fhould give off? even fo I have:
I did suppose, it fhould be on constraint;
But, heav'n be thank'd, it is but voluntary.

Enter Faulconbridge.

Faulc. All Kent hath yielded, nothing there holds out But Dover-Caftle: London hath receiv'd,

Like a kind hoft, the Dauphin and his powers.
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer fervice to your enemy;

And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends.

K. John. Would not my Lords return to me again, After they heard, young Arthur was alive?

Faulc. They found him dead, and caft into the streets, An empty casket, where the jewel, life, By fome damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. K. John. That villain Hubert told me, he did live. Faulc. So on my foul he did, for ought he knew: But wherefore do you droop? why look you fad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought: Let not the world fee fear and fad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye: Be ftirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threat'ner, and out-face the brow Of bragging horror: fo fhall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great,

And Beaumont and Fletcher in their Noble Gentleman.

Your coufin, who is now a convertite;

The termination of this word, no doubt, we form'd from the Italian participle, convertito: And the Spaniards likewise call a convert, unconvertido.

Grow great by your example; and put on
The dauntless fpirit of refolution.
Away, and glifter like the god of war,
When he intendeth to become the field;
Shew boldness and afpiring confidence.
What, fhall they seek the lion in his den,
And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
Oh, let it not be faid! Forage, and run
To meet difpleasure farther from the doors;
And grapple with him, ere he come fo nigh.

K. John. The Legate of the Pope hath been with me,
And I have made a happy peace with him ;
And he hath promis'd to difmifs the powers
Led by the Dauphin.

Faule. O inglorious league!

Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Send fair-play-orders, and make compromife,
Infinuation, parly, and bafe truce,

To arms invafive? fhall a beardless boy,
A cockred, filken, wanton brave our fields,
And fiefh his fpirit in a warlike foil,

Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check ? let us, my Liege, to arms:
Perchance, the Cardinal can't make your peace;
Or if he do, let it at leaft be faid,

They faw, we had a purpose of defence.

K. Jn. Have thou the crd'ring of this prefent time. Faule. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, Our party may well meet a prouder foe.

[Exeunt. SCENE changes to the Dauphin's Camp, at St. Edmundíbury (25).

Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigot, and Soldiers.

Y Lord Melun, let this be copied out,
And keep it fafe for our remembrance:

Return

(25) at St. Edmundsbury.] I have ventur'd to fix the place of the fcene here, which is fpecified by nene of the Editors, on the folowing

autho