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My date of life out, for his tweet life's lofs.
Sal. Truft not thofe cunning waters of his eyes,
For villainy is not without fuch rheum;
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem
Like rivers of remorfe and innocence.
Away with me all you, whofe fouls abhor
Th' uncleanly favour of a flaughter-house,
For I am ftifled with the fmell of fin.

Bigot. Away tow'rd Bury, 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 did't this deed of death

Art thou damn'd, Hubert.

Hub. Do but hear me, Sir.

Faule. Ha! I'll tell thee what,

Thou'rt damn'd fo black-nay, nothing is fo black;

Thou art more deep damn'd than prince Lucifer.
There is not yet fo ugly a fiend of hell

As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child.
Hub. Upon my foul

Faulc. If thou didst but confent

To this most cruel act, do but despair,

And if thou want'ft a cord, the smallest thread,
That ever spider twisted from her womb,
Will ftrangle thee; a rush will be a beam.

To hang thee on: or wouldst thou drown thyself,
Put but a little water in a spoon,

And it fhall be as all the ocean,
Enough to stifle fuch a villain up.

I do fufpect thee very grievously.

Hub. If I in act, confent, or fin of thought, Be guilty of the ftealing that fweet breath,

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Which was embounded in this beauteous clay,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me!
I left him well.

Faulc. Go, bear him in thine arms.

I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way:
Among the thorns and dangers of this world.
How easy 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 bristle 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 wrested pomp.] Wrefted pomp is greatness obtained by violence.

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The Court of ENGLAND.

Enter King John, Pandulpho, and Attendants.



HUS I have yielded up into your hand
The circle of my Glory.

Pand. Take again

[Giving the Crown.

From this my hand, as holding of the Pope,

Your fovereign Greatness and Authority.

K. John. Now keep your holy word; go meet the

And from his Holinefs ufe all your power
To stop their Marches, 'fore we are inflam'd.
Our discontented Counties do revolt;
Our people quarrel with obedience;
Swearing allegiance, and the love of foul,
To ftranger blood, to foreign Royalty;
This inundation of miftemper'd humour
Refts by you only to be qualify'd.

Then paufe not; for the present time's fo fick,
That prefent medicine must be miniftred,

Or Overthrow incurable infues.

Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempeft up,. Upon your stubborn ufage of the Pope :

But fince you are a gentle convertite,

My tongue shall hufh again this storm of war;

And make fair weather in your bluft'ring Land.
On this Afcenfion-Day, remember well,

Upon your oath of fervice to the Pope,

Go I to make the French lay down their arms. [Exit. K. John. Is this Afcenfion-day? did not the Prophet Say, that before Afcenfion day at noon



My Crown I fhould give off? even fo I have:
I did fuppofe, it should be on constraint:
But, heav'n be thank'd, it is but voluntary,

Enter Faulconbridge,

Faulc. All Kent hath yielded, nothing there holds out But Dover-Caftle: London hath receiv'd,

Like a kind hoft, the Dauphin and his Powers.
Your Nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer fervice to your enemy;

And wild amazement hurries up and down
The little number of your doubtful friends.

K. John. Would not my Lords return to me again, After they heard, young Arthur was alive?

Faulc. They found him dead, and caft into the streets,
An empty casket, where the jewel, life,
By fome damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away.
K. John. That villain Hubert told me, he did live.
Faulc. So on my foul he did, for aught he knew:
But wherefore do you droop? why look you fad?
Be great in act, as you have been in thought:
Let not the world fee fear and sad distrust
Govern the motion of a kingly eye:

Be ftirring as the time; be fire with fire;
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow
Of bragging horror: fo fhall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the Great,
Grow great by your example; and put on
The dauntless fpirit of refolution.
Away, and glifter like the God of war,
When he intendeth to become the field
Shew boldness and afpiring confidence.
What, fhall they feek the Lion in his den,

And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
Oh, let it not be faid! Forage, and run


~Forage, and run] To forage is here ufed in its original fenfe, for to range abroad.


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To meet difpleasure farther from the doors;
And grapple with him, ere he come fo nigh.

K John. The legate of the Pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him; And he hath promis'd to dismiss the Powers Led by the Dauphin.

Faulc. Oh inglorious league!

Shall we, upon the footing of our Land,
Send fair play-orders, and make compromife,
Infinuation, parley, and base truce,

To arms invasive ? fhall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd, filken, Wanton brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike foil,

Mocking the air with Colours idly spread3,
And find no check? let us, my Liege, to arms:
Perchance, the Cardinal can't make your peace ;
Or if he do, let it at least be faid,

They faw, we had a purpose of defence.

K. John. Have thou the ord'ring of this prefent time. Faulc. Away then, with good courage; yet, I know, Our Party may well meet a prouder foe.

5 Mocking the air with colours] He has the fame image in Macbeth.

Where the Norwegian colours
flout the fky,
And fan our people cold.
Away then, with good cou-
rage! yet, I know,


Our party may well meet a

prouder foc.] Let us then away with courage; yet I fo well know the faintness of our party, that I think it may easily happen that they fhall encounter enemies who have more Spirit than themSelves.



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