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Faulc. Once more to-day well met, diftemper'd
The King by me requests your prefence ftrait.
Faulc. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best.
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 it privilege. Faulc. 'Tis true, to hurt its mafter, no man elfe. Sal. This is the prison: what is he lies here? [Seeing Arthur. Pemb. 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.
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,
The height, the creft, or creft unto the creft,
To reafon, in Shakespeare, is not fo often to argue, as to talk.
Prefented to the tears of foft remorse.
Pemb. All murders past do stand excus'd in this ;
Faulc. It is a damned and a bloody work,
Sal. If that it be the work of any hand?
}Our fouls religiously confirm thy words.
Hub. Lords, I am hot with hafte, in feeking you; Arthur doth live, the King hath fent for you.
Sal. Oh, he is bold, and blufhes not at death.
'Never to taste the pleasures of the
the worship of revenge.] The worship is the dignity, the honour. We ftill fay worshipful of magiflrates.
-Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
Hub. I am no villain.
Sal. Muft I rob the law? [Drawing bis Sword. 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; stand back, I fay; By heav'n, I think, my fword's as sharp as yours. I would not have you, Lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence'; Left 1, 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 fo2;
Yet, I am none. Whose 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 fpleen 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 shall think, the devil is come from hell. Bigot. What will you do, renowned Falconbridge? 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: I honour'd him, I lov'd him, and will weep..
true defence; Honeft defence; defence in a good caufe. 2 Do not prove me so; Yet, I am none. -] Do not
make me a murderer by compelling me to kill you; hitherto not a murderer.
My date of life out, for his fweet life's lofs.
Bigot. Away tow'rd Bury, to the Dauphin there. Pemb. There, tell the King, he may enquire us out. [Exeunt Lords.
S CE NE
Faulc. Here's a good world. Knew you of this fair work?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
Hub. Do but hear me, Sir.
Faule. 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,
I do fufpect thee very grievously.
Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought,
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms. I am amaz'd, methinks, and lofe my way: Among the thorns and dangers of this world. How eafy doft thou take all England up! From forth this morfel of dead Royalty, The life, the right, and truth of all this Realm Is fled to heav'n; and England now is left. To tug and scramble, and to part by th' teeth The un-owed intereft of proud-fwelling State. Now for the bare-pickt bone of Majefty, Doth dogged war briftle his angry creft; And fnarleth in the gentle eyes of peace. Now Pow'rs from home and discontents at home Meet in one line and vaft confufion waits (As doth a Raven on a fick, fall'n beaft) The imminent Decay of wrefted Pomp 3. Now happy he, whofe cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempeft. Bear away that child, And follow me with fpeed; I'll to the King; A thousand bufineffes are brief at hand, And heav'n itself doth frown upon the Land. [Exeunt.
3 The imminent decay of wrefted pomp.] Wrefted pomp is greatness btained by violence.