Shakespeare - First Folio facsimile (1910)/The Life and Death of King John/Act 4 Scene 2
Scena Secunda.
Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.
Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'dAnd look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes.
Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd)Was once superfluous: you were Crown'd before,And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off:The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt:Fresh expectation troubled not the LandWith any long'd-for-change, or better State.
Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pompe,To guard a Title, that was rich before;To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly;To throw a perfume on the Violet,To smooth the yce, or adde another hewVnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-lightTo seeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish,Is wastefull, and ridiculous excesse.
Pem. But that your Royall pleasure must be done,This acte, is as an ancient tale new told,And, in the last repeating, troublesome,Being vrged at a time vnseasonable.
Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted faceOf plaine old forme, is much disfigured,And like a shifted winde vnto a saile,It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about,Startles, and frights consideration:Makes sound opinion sicke, and truth suspected,For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.
Pem. When Workemen striue to do better then wel,They do confound their skill in couetousnesse,And oftentimes excusing of a fault,Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse:As patches set vpon a little breach,Discredite more in hiding of the fault,Then did the fault before it was so patch'd.
Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'dWe breath'd our Councell: but it pleas'd your HighnesTo ouer-beare it, and we are all well pleas'd,Since all, and euery part of what we wouldDoth make a stand, at what your Highnesse will.
Ioh. Some reasons of this double CorronationI haue possest you with, and thinke them strong.And more, more strong, then lesser is my feareI shall indue you with: Meane time, but askeWhat you would haue reform'd, that is not well,And well shall you perceiue, how willinglyI will both heare, and grant you your requests.
Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of theseTo sound the purposes of all their hearts,Both for my selfe, and them: but chiefe of allYour safety: for the which, my selfe and themBend their best studies, heartily requestTh' infranchisement of Arthur, whose restraintDoth moue the murmuring lips of discontentTo breake into this dangerous argument.If what in rest you haue, in right you hold,Why then your feares, which (as they say) attendThe steppes of wrong, should moue you to mew vpYour tender kinsman, and to choake his dayesWith barbarous ignorance, and deny his youthThe rich aduantage of good exercise,That the times enemies may not haue thisTo grace occasions: let it be our suite,That you haue bid vs aske his libertie,Which for our goods, we do no further aske,Then, whereupon our weale on you depending,Counts it your weale: he haue his liberty.
Enter Hubert.
Iohn. Let it be so: I do commit his youthTo your direction: Hubert, what newes with you?
Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed:He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine,The image of a wicked heynous faultLiues in his eye: that close aspect of his,Do shew the mood of a much troubled brest,And I do fearefully beleeue 'tis done,What we so fear'd he had a charge to do.
Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and goBetweene his purpose and his conscience,Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes set:His passion is so ripe, it needs must breake.
Pem. And when it breakes, I feare will issue thenceThe foule corruption of a sweet childes death.
Iohn. We cannot hold mortalities strong hand.Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing,The suite which you demand is gone, and dead.He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night.
Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure.
Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was,Before the childe himselfe felt he was sicke:This must be answer'd either heere, or hence.
Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me?Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of destiny?Haue I commandement on the pulse of life?
Sal. It is apparant foule-play, and 'tis shameThat Greatnesse should so grossely offer it;So thriue it in your game, and so farewell.
Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee,And finde th' inheritance of this poore childe,His little kingdome of a forced graue.That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile,Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while:This must not be thus borne, this will breake outExeuntTo all our sorrowes, and ere long I doubt.
Io. Enter Mes.They burn in indignation: I repent:There is no sure foundation set on blood:No certaine life atchieu'd by others death:A fearefull eye thou hast. Where is that blood,That I haue seene inhabite in those cheekes?So foule a skie, cleeres not without a storme,Poure downe thy weather: how goes all in France?
Mes. From France to England, neuer such a powreFor any forraigne preparation,Was leuied in the body of a land.The Copie of your speede is learn'd by them:For when you should be told they do prepare,The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd.
Ioh. Oh where hath our Intelligence bin drunke?Where hath it slept? Where is my Mothers care?That such an Army could be drawne in France,And she not heare of it?
Mes. My Liege, her eareIs stopt with dust: the first of Aprill di'deYour noble mother; and as I heare, my Lord,The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'deThree dayes before: but this from Rumors tongueI idely heard: if true, or false I know not.
Iohn. With-hold thy speed, dreadfull Occasion:O make a league with me, 'till I haue pleas'dMy discontented PeerEs. What? Mother dead?How wildely then walkes my Estate in France?Vnder whose conduct came those powres of France,That thou for truth giu'st out are landed heere?
Mes. Vnder the Dolphin.
Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.
Ioh. Thou hast made me giddyWith these ill tydings: Now? What sayes the worldTo your proceedings? Do not seeke to stuffeMy head with more ill newes: for it is full.
Bast. But if you be a-feard to heare the worst,Then let the worst vn-heard, fall on your head.
Iohn. Beare with me Cosen, for I was amaz'dVnder the tide; but now I breath againeAloft the flood, and can giue audienceTo any tongue, speake it of what it will.
Bast. How I haue sped among the Clergy men,The summes I haue collected shall expresse:But as I trauail'd hither through the land,I finde the people strangely fantasied,Possest with rumors, full of idle dreames,Not knowing what they feare, but full of feare.And here's a Prophet that I brought with meFrom forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I foundWith many hundreds treading on his heeles:To whom he sung in rude harsh sounding rimes,That ere the next Ascension day at noone,Your Highnes should deliuer vp your Crowne.
Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?
Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so.
Iohn. Hubert, away with him: imprison him,And on that day at noone, whereon he sayesI shall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be hang'dDeliuer him to safety, and returne,For I must vse thee. O my gentle Cosen,Hear'st thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd?
Bast. The French (my Lord) mens mouths are ful of it:Besides I met Lord Bigot, and Lord SalisburieWith eyes as red as new enkindled fire,And others more, going to seeke the graueOf Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to night, on your suggestion.
Iohn. Gentle kinsman, goAnd thrust thy selfe into their Companies, I haue a way to winne their loues againe:Bring them before me.
Bast. I will seeke them out.
Iohn. Nay, but make haste: the better foote before.O, let me haue no subiect enemies,When aduerse Forreyners affright my TownesWith dreadfull pompe of stout inuasion.Be Mercurie, set feathers to thy heeles,And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe.
Bast. Exit.The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
Iohn. Spoke like a sprightfull Noble Gentleman.Go after him: for he perhaps shall needeSome Messenger betwixt me, and the Peeres,And be thou hee.
Mes. With all my heart, my Liege.
Iohn. My mother dead?
Enter Hubert.
Hub. My Lord, they say fiue Moones were seene to night:Foure fixed, and the fift did whirle aboutThe other foure, in wondrous motion.
Ioh. Fiue Moones?
Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streetsDo prophesie vpon it dangerously:Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths,And when they talke of him, they shake their heads,And whisper one another in the eare.And he that speakes, doth gripe the hearers wrist,Whilst he that heares, makes fearefull actionWith wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eyes.I saw a Smith stand with his hammer (thus)The whilst his Iron did on the Anuile coole,With open mouth swallowing a Taylors newes,Who with his Sheeres, and Measure in his hand,Standing on slippers, which his nimble hasteHad falsely thrust vpon contrary feete,Told of a many thousand warlike French,That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent.Another leane, vnwash'd Artificer,Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death.
Io. Why seek'st thou to possesse me with these feares?Why vrgest thou so oft yong Arthurs death?Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a mighty causeTo wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me?
Iohn. It is the curse of Kings, to be attendedBy slaues, that take their humors for a warrant,To breake within the bloody house of life,And on the winking of AuthoritieTo vnderstand a Law; to know the meaningOf dangerous Maiesty, when perchance it frownesMore vpon humor, then aduis'd respect.
Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did.
Ioh. Oh, when the last accompt twixt heauen & earthIs to be made, then shall this hand and SealeWitnesse against vs to damnation.How oft the sight of meanes to do ill deeds,Make deeds ill done? Had'st not thou beene by,A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,Quoted, and sign'd to do a deede of shame,This murther had not come into my minde.But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect,Finding thee fit for bloody villanie:Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger,I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death:And thou, to be endeered to a King,Made it no conscience to destroy a Prince.
Hub. My Lord.
Ioh. Had'st thou but shooke thy head, or made a pauseWhen I spake darkely, what I purposed:Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my face;As bid me tell my tale in expresse words:Deepe shame had struck me dumbe, made me break off,And those thy feares, might haue wrought feares in me.But, thou didst vnderstand me by my signes,And didst in signes againe parley with sinne,Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,And consequently, thy rude hand to acteThe deed, which both our tongues held vilde to name.Out of my sight, and neuer see me more:My Nobles leaue me, and my State is braued,Euen at my gates, with rankes of forraigne powres;Nay, in the body of this fleshly Land,This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breatheHostilitie, and ciuill tumult reignesBetweene my conscience, and my Cosins death.
Hub. Arme you against your other enemies:Ile make a peace betweene your soule, and you.Yong Arthur is aliue: This hand of mineIs yet a maiden, and an innocent hand.Not painted with the Crimson spots of blood,Within this bosome, neuer entred yetThe dreadfull motion of a murderous thought,And you haue slander'd Nature in my forme,Which howsoeuer rude exteriorly,Is yet the couer of a fayrer minde,Then to be butcher of an innocent childe.
Iohn. Doth Arthur liue? O hast thee to the Peeres,Throw this report on their incensed rage,And make them tame to their obedience.Forgiue the Comment that my passion madeVpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde,And foule immaginarie eyes of bloodPresented thee more hideous then thou art.Oh, answer not; but to my Closset bringThe angry Lords, with all expedient hast,Exeunt.I coniure thee but slowly: run more fast.