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twg_000000020400 | seem horrible. HUBERT. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue. ARTHUR. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. Let me not hold my tongue. Let me not, Hubert, Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes, Though | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020401 | to no use but still to look on you! Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold And would not harm me. HUBERT. I can heat it, boy. ARTHUR. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, Being create for comfort, to be usd In undeservd extremes. See else yourself. There is no malice in this burning coal; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020402 | The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out And strewd repentant ashes on his head. HUBERT. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. ARTHUR. An if you do, you will but make it blush And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert. Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes; And, like a dog that is compelld | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020403 | to fight, Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should use to do me wrong Deny their office. Only you do lack That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. HUBERT. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye For all the treasure that thine uncle | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020404 | owes. Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, With this same very iron to burn them out. ARTHUR. O, now you look like Hubert! All this while You were disguised. HUBERT. Peace; no more. Adieu. Your uncle must not know but you are dead. Ill fill these dogged spies with false reports. And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020405 | secure That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee. ARTHUR. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. HUBERT. Silence; no more. Go closely in with me. Much danger do I undergo for thee. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. The same. A Room of State in the Palace. Enter King John, crowned, Pembroke, Salisbury and other Lords. The King | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020406 | takes his State. KING JOHN. Here once again we sit, once again crownd, And lookd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. PEMBROKE. This once again, but that your highness pleasd, Was once superfluous. You were crownd before, And that high royalty was neer pluckd off, The faiths of men neer stained with revolt; Fresh expectation troubled not the land With | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020407 | any longd-for change or better state. SALISBURY. Therefore, to be possessd with double pomp, To guard a title that was rich before, To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020408 | Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. PEMBROKE. But that your royal pleasure must be done, This act is as an ancient tale new told, And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable. SALISBURY. In this the antique and well-noted face Of plain old form is much disfigured; And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, It makes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020409 | the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles and frights consideration, Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashiond robe. PEMBROKE. When workmen strive to do better than well, They do confound their skill in covetousness; And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020410 | upon a little breach Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patchd. SALISBURY. To this effect, before you were new-crownd, We breathd our counsel; but it pleasd your highness To overbear it, and we are all well pleasd, Since all and every part of what we would Doth make a stand at | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020411 | what your highness will. KING JOHN. Some reasons of this double coronation I have possessd you with, and think them strong; And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, I shall indue you with. Meantime but ask What you would have reformd that is not well, And well shall you perceive how willingly I will both hear and grant | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020412 | you your requests. PEMBROKE. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, To sound the purposes of all their hearts, Both for myself and them, but, chief of all, Your safety, for the which myself and them Bend their best studies, heartily request Th enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent To break | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020413 | 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 barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich advantage of good exercise? That the times enemies may not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020414 | 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. Hubert, what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020415 | news with you? [_Taking him apart._] PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the bloody deed. He showd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020416 | feard 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 childs death. KING JOHN. We | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020417 | cannot hold mortalitys 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 deceasd tonight. SALISBURY. Indeed, we feard 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020418 | answerd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020419 | Salisbury. Ill go with thee And find th inheritance of this poor child, His little kingdom of a forced grave. That blood which owd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020420 | Lords._] KING JOHN. They burn in indignation. I repent. There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achievd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020421 | in France? MESSENGER. From France to England. Never such a power For any foreign preparation Was levied in the body of a land. The copy of your speed is learnd by them; For when you should be told they do prepare, The tidings comes that they are all arrivd. KING JOHN. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? Where hath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020422 | it slept? Where is my mothers care, That such an army could be drawn in France, And she not hear of it? MESSENGER. My liege, her ear Is stoppd 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 rumours tongue | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020423 | 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 pleasd My discontented peers! What! Mother dead? How wildly then walks my estate in France! Under whose conduct came those powers of France That thou for truth givst out are landed here? MESSENGER. Under | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020424 | 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 full. BASTARD. But if you be afeard to hear the worst, Then let the worst, unheard, fall on | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020425 | your head. KING JOHN. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amazd 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 travailld hither through the land, I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020426 | find the people strangely fantasied; Possessd with rumours, full of idle dreams, Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear. And heres 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020427 | noon, Your highness should deliver up your crown. KING JOHN. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? PETER OF POMFRET. Foreknowing 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 hangd. Deliver him to safety, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020428 | return, For I must use thee. [_Exit Hubert with Peter._] O my gentle cousin, Hearst thou the news abroad, who are arrivd? BASTARD. The French, my lord. Mens 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020429 | say is killd tonight 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020430 | 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. [_Exit Bastard._] KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman! Go after him; for he perhaps shall need Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; And be thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020431 | he. MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. [_Exit._] KING JOHN. My mother dead! Enter Hubert. HUBERT. My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight 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 Arthurs death | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020432 | 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 hearers 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020433 | on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailors 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 rankd in Kent. Another lean unwashd artificer Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthurs death. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020434 | KING JOHN. Why seekst thou to possess me with these fears? Why urgest thou so oft young Arthurs death? Thy hand hath murderd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020435 | be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant To 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 advisd respect. HUBERT. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. KING JOHN. O, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020436 | 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 markd, Quoted and signd to do a deed of shame, This | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020437 | murder had not come into my mind. But taking note of thy abhorrd aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, Apt, liable to be employd in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020438 | thy head or made pause When I spake darkly what I purposd, Or turnd 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. But thou didst understand me by my signs And didst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020439 | in signs again parley with sin; Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently thy rude hand to act The deed which both our tongues held vile to name. Out of my sight, and never see me more! My nobles leave me, and my state is bravd, Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers. Nay, in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020440 | the body of the fleshly land, This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, Hostility and civil tumult reigns Between my conscience and my cousins death. HUBERT. Arm you against your other enemies, Ill make a peace between your soul and you. Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, Not painted | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020441 | with the crimson spots of blood. Within this bosom never enterd yet The dreadful motion of a murderous thought; And you have slanderd nature in my form, Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, Is yet the cover of a fairer mind Than to be butcher of an innocent child. KING JOHN. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, Throw this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020442 | report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O, answer not, but to my closet bring The angry lords with all expedient haste. I conjure thee but slowly; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020443 | run more fast. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. Before the castle. Enter Arthur on the walls. ARTHUR. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down. Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! Theres few or none do know me, If they did, This ship-boys semblance hath disguisd me quite. I am afraid; and yet Ill venture it. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020444 | If I get down, and do not break my limbs, Ill find a thousand shifts to get away. As good to die and go, as die and stay. [_Leaps down._] O me, my uncles spirit is in these stones. Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! [_Dies._] Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot. SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020445 | at Saint Edmundsbury; It is our safety, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perilous time. PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the cardinal? SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, Whose private with me of the Dauphins love Is much more general than these lines import. BIGOT. Tomorrow morning let us meet him then. SALISBURY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020446 | Or rather then set forward; for twill be Two long days journey, lords, or ere we meet. Enter the Bastard. BASTARD. Once more today well met, distemperd lords! The King by me requests your presence straight. SALISBURY. The King hath dispossessd himself of us. We will not line his thin bestained cloak With our pure honours, nor attend the foot | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020447 | That leaves the print of blood whereer it walks. Return and tell him so. We know the worst. BASTARD. Whateer you think, good words, I think, were best. SALISBURY. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. BASTARD. But there is little reason in your grief; Therefore twere reason you had manners now. PEMBROKE. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020448 | BASTARD. Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else. SALISBURY. This is the prison. What is he lies here? [_Seeing Arthur._] PEMBROKE. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. SALISBURY. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. BIGOT. Or, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020449 | when he doomd this beauty to a grave, Found it too precious-princely for a grave. SALISBURY. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld, Or have you read or heard, or could you think, Or do you almost think, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this object, Form such another? This is the very top, The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020450 | height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, Of murders arms. This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, That ever wall-eyd wrath or staring rage Presented to the tears of soft remorse. PEMBROKE. All murders past do stand excusd in this. And this, so sole and so unmatchable, Shall give a holiness, a purity, To the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020451 | yet unbegotten sin of times; And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, Exampled by this heinous spectacle. BASTARD. It is a damned and a bloody work; The graceless action of a heavy hand, If that it be the work of any hand. SALISBURY. If that it be the work of any hand? We had a kind of light what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020452 | would ensue. It is the shameful work of Huberts hand, The practice and the purpose of the King, From whose obedience I forbid my soul, Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, And breathing to his breathless excellence The incense of a vow, a holy vow, Never to taste the pleasures of the world, Never to be infected with delight, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020453 | Nor conversant with ease and idleness, Till I have set a glory to this hand, By giving it the worship of revenge. PEMBROKE and BIGOT. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. Enter Hubert. HUBERT. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you. SALISBURY. O, he is bold and blushes not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020454 | at death. Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! HUBERT. I am no villain. SALISBURY. Must I rob the law? [_Drawing his sword._] BASTARD. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. SALISBURY. Not till I sheathe it in a murderers skin. HUBERT. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; By heaven, I think my swords as sharp | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020455 | as yours. I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. BIGOT. Out, dunghill! Darst thou brave a nobleman? HUBERT. Not for my life. But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor. SALISBURY. Thou art a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020456 | murderer. HUBERT. Do not prove me so. Yet I am none. Whose tongue soeer speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. PEMBROKE. Cut him to pieces. BASTARD. Keep the peace, I say. SALISBURY. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. BASTARD. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury. If thou but frown on me, or stir | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020457 | thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, Ill strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime, Or Ill so maul you and your toasting-iron That you shall think the devil is come from hell. BIGOT. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain and a murderer? HUBERT. Lord Bigot, I am none. BIGOT. Who killd | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020458 | this prince? HUBERT. Tis not an hour since I left him well. I honourd him, I lovd him, and will weep My date of life out for his sweet lifes loss. SALISBURY. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villainy is not without such rheum; And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020459 | and innocency. Away with me, all you whose souls abhor Th uncleanly savours of a slaughterhouse; For I am stifled with this smell of sin. BIGOT. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! PEMBROKE. There tell the King he may inquire us out. [_Exeunt Lords._] BASTARD. Heres a good world! Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020460 | boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damnd, Hubert. HUBERT. Do but hear me, sir. BASTARD. Ha! Ill tell thee what; Thourt damnd as blacknay, nothing is so black; Thou art more deep damnd than Prince Lucifer. There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020461 | kill this child. HUBERT. Upon my soul BASTARD. If thou didst but consent To this most cruel act, do but despair; And if thou wantst a cord, the smallest thread That ever spider twisted from her womb Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, Put but a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020462 | little water in a spoon And it shall be as all the ocean, Enough to stifle such a villain up. I do suspect thee very grievously. HUBERT. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want pains enough to torture me! I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020463 | left him well. BASTARD. Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amazd, methinks, and lose my way Among the thorns and dangers of this world. How easy dost thou take all England up! From forth this morsel of dead royalty, The life, the right, and truth of all this realm Is fled to heaven; and England now is left | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020464 | To tug and scamble, and to part by th teeth The unowd interest of proud-swelling state. Now for the bare-pickd bone of majesty Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace. Now powers from home and discontents at home Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, As doth a raven on a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020465 | sick-falln beast, The imminent decay of wrested pomp. Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, And follow me with speed. Ill to the King. A thousand businesses are brief in hand, And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [_Exeunt._] ACT V SCENE I. Northampton. A Room in the Palace. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020466 | King John, Pandulph with the crown, and Attendants. KING JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory. PANDULPH. [_Giving King John the crown._] Take again From this my hand, as holding of the pope, Your sovereign greatness and authority. KING JOHN. Now keep your holy word. Go meet the French, And from his holiness | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020467 | use all your power To stop their marches fore we are inflamd. Our discontented counties do revolt; Our people quarrel with obedience, Swearing allegiance and the love of soul To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. This inundation of mistemperd humour Rests by you only to be qualified. Then pause not; for the present times so sick That present medcine must | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020468 | be ministred Or overthrow incurable ensues. PANDULPH. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, Upon your stubborn usage of the pope; But since you are a gentle convertite, My tongue shall hush again this storm of war And make fair weather in your blustring land. On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the pope, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020469 | Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [_Exit._] KING JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet Say that before Ascension-day at noon My crown I should give off? Even so I have. I did suppose it should be on constraint; But, heaven be thankd, it is but voluntary. Enter the Bastard. BASTARD. All Kent hath yielded. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020470 | Nothing there holds out But Dover Castle. London hath receivd, Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers. Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone To offer service to your enemy; And wild amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends. KING JOHN. Would not my lords return to me again After they | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020471 | heard young Arthur was alive? BASTARD. They found him dead and cast into the streets, An empty casket, where the jewel of life By some damnd hand was robbd and taen away. KING JOHN. That villain Hubert told me he did live. BASTARD. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. But wherefore do you droop? Why look | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020472 | you sad? Be great in act, as you have been in thought; Let not the world see fear and sad distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye. Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threatner, and outface the brow Of bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great, Grow great | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020473 | by your example and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution. Away, and glister like the god of war When he intendeth to become the field. Show boldness and aspiring confidence. What, shall they seek the lion in his den, And fright him there? And make him tremble there? O, let it not be said! Forage, and run To meet | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020474 | displeasure farther from the doors, And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. KING JOHN. The legate of the pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him; And he hath promisd to dismiss the powers Led by the Dauphin. BASTARD. O inglorious league! Shall we, upon the footing of our land, Send fair-play | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020475 | orders and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, A cockerd silken wanton, brave our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the air with colours idly spread, And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms! Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace; Or if he do, let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020476 | it at least be said They saw we had a purpose of defence. KING JOHN. Have thou the ordering of this present time. BASTARD. Away, then, with good courage! Yet, I know Our party may well meet a prouder foe. [_Exeunt._] SCENE II. Near Saint Edmundsbury. The French Camp. Enter, in arms, Louis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigot and soldiers. LOUIS. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020477 | My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, And keep it safe for our remembrance. Return the precedent to these lords again; That, having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing oer these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. SALISBURY. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020478 | And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear A voluntary zeal and an unurgd faith To your proceedings; yet believe me, prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time Should seek a plaster by contemnd revolt, And heal the inveterate canker of one wound By making many. O, it grieves my soul That I must draw this metal from | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020479 | my side To be a widow-maker! O, and there Where honourable rescue and defence Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time, That, for the health and physic of our right, We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern injustice and confused wrong. And ist not pity, O my grieved friends, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020480 | That we, the sons and children of this isle, Were born to see so sad an hour as this; Wherein we step after a stranger, march Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up Her enemies ranks? I must withdraw and weep Upon the spot of this enforced cause, To grace the gentry of a land remote, And follow unacquainted colours | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020481 | here. What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove! That Neptunes arms, who clippeth thee about, Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself And grapple thee unto a pagan shore, Where these two Christian armies might combine The blood of malice in a vein of league, And not to spend it so unneighbourly! LOUIS. A noble temper dost thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020482 | show in this; And great affections wrestling in thy bosom Doth make an earthquake of nobility. O, what a noble combat hast thou fought Between compulsion and a brave respect! Let me wipe off this honourable dew That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks. My heart hath melted at a ladys tears, Being an ordinary inundation; But this effusion of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020483 | such manly drops, This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes and makes me more amazd Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven Figurd quite oer with burning meteors. Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, And with a great heart heave away this storm. Commend these waters to those baby eyes That never saw | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020484 | the giant world enragd, Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep Into the purse of rich prosperity As Louis himself.So, nobles, shall you all, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. And even there, methinks, an angel spake. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020485 | Pandulph. Look, where the holy legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of heaven, And on our actions set the name of right With holy breath. PANDULPH. Hail, noble prince of France! The next is this: King John hath reconcild Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, That so stood out against the holy church, The | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020486 | great metropolis and see of Rome. Therefore thy threatning colours now wind up, And tame the savage spirit of wild war, That, like a lion fosterd up at hand, It may lie gently at the foot of peace And be no further harmful than in show. LOUIS. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back. I am too high-born | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020487 | to be propertied, To be a secondary at control, Or useful serving-man and instrument To any sovereign state throughout the world. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars Between this chastisd kingdom and myself, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020488 | which enkindled it. You taught me how to know the face of right, Acquainted me with interest to this land, Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; And come ye now to tell me John hath made His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, After young Arthur, claim this land | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020489 | for mine; And, now it is half-conquerd, must I back Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? Am I Romes slave? What penny hath Rome borne, What men provided, what munition sent, To underprop this action? Ist not I That undergo this charge? Who else but I, And such as to my claim are liable, Sweat in this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020490 | business and maintain this war? Have I not heard these islanders shout out _Vive le Roi!_ as I have bankd their towns? Have I not here the best cards for the game To win this easy match playd for a crown? And shall I now give oer the yielded set? No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020491 | PANDULPH. You look but on the outside of this work. LOUIS. Outside or inside, I will not return Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war, And culld these fiery spirits from the world, To outlook conquest and to win renown Even in the jaws of | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020492 | danger and of death. [_Trumpet sounds._] What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? Enter the Bastard, attended. BASTARD. According to the fair play of the world, Let me have audience; I am sent to speak, My holy lord of Milan, from the King I come to learn how you have dealt for him; And, as you answer, I do know | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020493 | the scope And warrant limited unto my tongue. PANDULPH. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, And will not temporize with my entreaties; He flatly says hell not lay down his arms. BASTARD. By all the blood that ever fury breathd, The youth says well. Now hear our English king, For thus his royalty doth speak in me: He is prepard, and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020494 | reason too he should. This apish and unmannerly approach, This harnessd masque and unadvised revel, This unhaird sauciness and boyish troops, The King doth smile at; and is well prepard To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, From out the circle of his territories. That hand which had the strength, even at your door, To cudgel you and make | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020495 | you take the hatch, To dive like buckets in concealed wells, To crouch in litter of your stable planks, To lie like pawns lockd up in chests and trunks, To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake Even at the crying of your nations crow, Thinking this voice an armed | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020496 | Englishman; Shall that victorious hand be feebled here That in your chambers gave you chastisement? No! Know the gallant monarch is in arms And like an eagle oer his aery towers To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb Of your dear mother England, blush for shame! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020497 | For your own ladies and pale-visagd maids Like Amazons come tripping after drums, Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts To fierce and bloody inclination. LOUIS. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well; We hold our time too precious to be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020498 | spent With such a brabbler. PANDULPH. Give me leave to speak. BASTARD. No, I will speak. LOUIS. We will attend to neither. Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war, Plead for our interest and our being here. BASTARD. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start And echo | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020499 | with the clamour of thy drum, And even at hand a drum is ready bracd That shall reverberate all as loud as thine. Sound but another, and another shall, As loud as thine, rattle the welkins ear And mock the deep-mouthd thunder. For at hand, Not trusting to this halting legate here, Whom he hath usd rather for sport than | 60 | gutenberg |
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