Bend their best studies,
heartily request
Th' enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent
To break into this dangerous argument:
If what in rest you have in right you hold,
Why then your fears-which, as they say, attend
The steps of wrong-should move you to mew up
Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days
With
barbarousignorance, and deny his youth
The rich
advantage of good exercise?
That the time's enemies may not have this
To grace occasions, let it be our suit
That you have bid us ask his liberty;
Which for our goods we do no further ask
Than
whereupon our weal, on you depending,
Counts it your weal he have his liberty.
KING JOHN. Let it be so. I do
commit his youth
To your direction.
Enter HUBERT
[Aside] Hubert, what news with you?
PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the
bloody deed:
He show'd his
warrant to a friend of mine;
The image of a
wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close
aspect of his
Doth show the mood of a much troubled breast,
And I do
fearfully believe 'tis done
What we so fear'd he had a
charge to do.
SALISBURY. The colour of the King doth come and go
Between his purpose and his
conscience,
Like heralds 'twixt two
dreadful battles set.
His
passion is so ripe it needs must break.
PEMBROKE. And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence
The foul
corruption of a sweet child's death.
KING JOHN. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand.
Good lords, although my will to give is living,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead:
He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night.
SALISBURY. Indeed, we fear'd his
sickness was past cure.
PEMBROKE. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was,
Before the child himself felt he was sick.
This must be answer'd either here or hence.
KING JOHN. Why do you bend such
solemn brows on me?
Think you I bear the shears of destiny?
Have I
commandment on the pulse of life?
SALISBURY. It is
apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame
That
greatness should so grossly offer it.
So
thrive it in your game! and so, farewell.
PEMBROKE. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury, I'll go with thee
And find th'
inheritance of this poor child,
His little kingdom of a forced grave.
That blood which ow'd the
breadth of all this isle
Three foot of it doth hold-bad world the while!
This must not be thus borne: this will break out
To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. Exeunt LORDS
KING JOHN. They burn in
indignation. I repent.
There is no sure
foundation set on blood,
No certain life achiev'd by others' death.
Enter a MESSENGER
A
fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood
That I have seen
inhabit in those cheeks?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm.
Pour down thy weather-how goes all in France?
MESSENGER. From France to England. Never such a pow'r
For any foreign preparation
Was levied in the body of a land.
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them,
For when you should be told they do prepare,
The
tidings comes that they are all arriv'd.
KING JOHN. O, where hath our
intelligence been drunk?
Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care,
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it?
MESSENGER. My liege, her ear
Is stopp'd with dust: the first of April died
Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord,
The Lady Constance in a
frenzy died
Three days before; but this from rumour's tongue
I idly heard-if true or false I know not.
KING JOHN. Withhold thy speed,
dreadful occasion!
O, make a
league with me, till I have pleas'd
My
discontented peers! What! mother dead!
How wildly then walks my
estate in France!
Under whose conduct came those pow'rs of France
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here?
MESSENGER. Under the Dauphin.
KING JOHN. Thou hast made me giddy
With these in
tidings.
Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET
Now! What says the world
To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news, for it is fun.
BASTARD. But if you be afear'd to hear the worst,
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.
KING JOHN. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd
Under the tide; but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood, and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it of what it will.
BASTARD. How I have sped among the clergymen
The sums I have collected shall express.
But as I travell'd
hither through the land,
I find the people
strangely fantasied;
Possess'd 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 sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes,
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon,
Your Highness should deliver up your crown.
KING JOHN. Thou idle
dreamer,
wherefore didst thou so?
PETER. Fore
knowing that the truth will fall out so.
KING JOHN. Hubert, away with him;
imprison him;
And on that day at noon
whereon he says
I shall yield up my crown let him be hang'd.
Deliver him to safety; and return,
For I must use thee.
Exit HUBERT with PETER
O my gentle cousin,
Hear'st thou the news
abroad, who are arriv'd?
BASTARD. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it;
Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury,
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,
And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night
On your suggestion.
KING JOHN. Gentle kinsman, go
And
thrust thyself into their companies.
I have a way to will their loves again;
Bring them before me.
BASTARD. I Will seek them out.
KING 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 stout invasion!
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels,
And fly like thought from them to me again.
BASTARD. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.
KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman.
Exit BASTARD
Go after him; for he perhaps shall need
Some
messenger betwixt me and the peers;
And be thou he.
MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. Exit
KING JOHN. My mother dead!
Re-enter HUBERT
HUBERT. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night;
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about
The other four in
wondrous motion.
KING JOHN. Five moons!
HUBERT. Old men and beldams in the streets
Do
prophesy upon it dangerously;
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths;
And when they talk of him, they shake their heads,
And
whisper one another in the ear;
And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist,
Whilst he that hears makes
fearful action
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes.
I saw a smith stand with his
hammer, thus,
The
whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news;
Who, with his shears and
measure in his hand,
Standing on slippers, which his
nimble haste
Had falsely
thrust upon
contrary feet,
Told of a many thousand
warlike French
That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent.
Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.
KING JOHN. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?
Thy hand hath murd'red him. I had a
mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
HUBERT. No had, my lord! Why, did you not
provoke me?
KING JOHN. It is the curse of kings to be attended
By slaves that take their
humours for a
warrantTo break within the
bloody house of life,
And on the winking of authority
To understand a law; to know the meaning
Of dangerous
majesty, when
perchance it frowns
More upon
humour than advis'd respect.
HUBERT. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
KING 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
Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd,
Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind;
But,
taking note of thy abhorr'd
aspect,
Finding thee fit for
bloody villainy,
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,
Made it no
conscience to destroy a prince.
HUBERT. My lord-
KING JOHN. Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause,
When I spake
darkly what I purposed,
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face,
As 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.