K. John. O, when the last account '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 do ill deeds, K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause, When I spake darkly what I purposed; Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, And bid me tell my tale in express words; Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me: But thou didst understand me by my signs, And didst in signs again parley with sin; Distinguished. And, consequently, thy rude hand to act The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name. My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my conscience and my cousin's death. Hub. Arm you against your other enemies, Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. The dreadful motion of a murderous thought: Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed rage, I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. [Exeunt. SCENE III. The same. Before the castle. Enter ARTHUR on the walls. Ar. The wall is high; and yet will I leap down. If I get down, and do not break my limbs, [leaps down. O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT. [dies. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Edmund's Bury. It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. 1 Pem. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of France; Whose private 1 with me, of the Dauphin's love, Is much more general than these lines import. Bi. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. Private account. Sal. Or, rather, then set forward; for 'twill be Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. Enter THE BASTARD. Bas. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd' lords! The king, by me, requests your presence straight. Bas. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. Bas. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore, 'twere reason, you had manners now. Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. Bas. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no man clse. Sal. This is the prison. What is he lies here? [seeing Arthur. Pem. 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. Bi. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, Out of humor. |