Yea, without ftop, did ft let thy heart confent, The deed, which both our tongues held vile to name, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Between my confcience, and my coufin's death. Young Arthur is alive: this hand of mine Than to be butcher of an innocent child. K. John. Doth Arthur live? O, hafte thee to the peers, Throw this report on their incensed 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. Arth. [Exeunt. SCENE, a Street before a Prifon. Enter Arthur on the walls, difguis'd. T HE 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 fhip-boy's femblance hath disguis'd me quite. I I am afraid, and yet I'll venture it. If I get down, and do not break my limbs, As good to die, and go; as die, and ftay. [Leaps down. Oh me! my uncle's fpirit is in these ftones : Heav'n take my foul, and England keep my bones! Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, and Bigot. [Dies. Sal. Lords, I will meet him at St. Edmundbury; Pem. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? Faulc. Once more to-day well met, diftemper'd Lords The King by me requests your prefence ftrait. Sal. The King hath difpoffeft himself of us; We will not line his thin, beftained cloak With our pure honours: nor attend the foot, That leaves the print of blood where-e'er it walks. Return, and tell him so: we know the worst. Faul. Whate'er youthink, good words, I think, were beft. Sal. Our griefs, and not our manners, reafon now. Faulc. But there is little reafon in your grief, Therefore 'twere reafon, you had manners now. Pemb. Sir, Sir, impatience hath its privilege. Faulc. "Tis true, to hurt its mafter, no man elfe. Sal. This is the prison: what is he lies here? [Seeing Arthur. Pemb. Oh 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 Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. Bigot. Or when he doom'd this beauty to the grave, Found it too precious princely for a grave. Sal. Sir Richard, what think you? have you beheld, Or have you read, or heard, or could you think, Or do you almoft think, although you fee, What you do fee? could thought, without this object, The height, 'the creft, or creft unto the creft Pemb. All murders paft do itand excus'd in this Shall give a holinefs, a purity, To the yet-unbegotten fins of time; Faulc. It is a damned and a bloody work, Sal. If that it be the work of any hand? Pemb. Bigot. Our fouls religiously confirm thy word. Enter Hubert. Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte, in feeking you; Arthur doth live, the King hath fent for you. Sal. Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blushes not at death; Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! Hub. I am no villain. Sal. Muft I rob the law? [Drawing his ford. Faulc. Your fword is bright, Sir, put it up again. Sal. Not till I fheath it in a murd'rer's fkin. Hub. Stand back, Lord Salisbury; ftand back, I fay; By heav'n, I think, my fword's as fharp as yours. I would not have you, Lord, forget yourfelf, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Left I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatnefs, and nobility. Bigot. Out,dunghill! dar'ft thou brave a Nobleman ? Hub. Not for my life; but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor. Sal. Thou art a murd'rer. Hub. Do not prove me fo; Yet, I am none. Whofe tongue foe'er speaks false, Faulc. Keep the peace, I fay. Sal. Stand by, or I fhall gaul you, Faulconbridge. Faulc. Thou wert better gaul the devil, Salisbury. If thou but frown on me, or ftir thy foot, Or teach thy hafty spleen to do me shame, I'll ftrike thee dead. Put up thy fword betime, Or I'll fo maul you, and your tofting-iron, That you fhall think the devil is come from hell. Bigot. What will you do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain, and a murderer ? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. Bigot. Who kill'd this Prince ? Hub. 'Tis not an hour fince I left him well; VOL. III. S Away Away with me all you, whofe fouls abhor Bigot. Away tow'rd Bary, 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) Hub. Do but hear me, Sir. Faulc. Ha? I'll tell thee what, Thou'rt damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black; As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. Faulc. If thou didst but confent To this most cruel act, do but despair, And if thou want'ft a cord, the fmalleft thread, And it fhall be as all the ocean, Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought, Faulc, Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amaz'd, methinks, and lofe my way (23) How eafy doft thou take all England up, From From forth this morfel of dead royalty P] But how did Hubert take England up, from forth the dead body of young Artbur ? Most faga |