60 The different plague of each calamity.

  KING PHILIP

  Bind up those tresses. [aside] O, what love I note

  In the fair multitude of those her hairs,

  Where but by chance a silver drop hath fall’n:

  Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends

  65 Do glue themselves in sociable grief

  Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,

  Sticking together in calamity.

  CONSTANCE

  To England, if you will.

  KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs.

  CONSTANCE

  Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?

  70 I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud,

  ‘O, that these hands could so redeem my son,

  As they have given these hairs their liberty!’

  But now I envy at their liberty,

  And will again commit them to their bonds

  75 Because my poor child is a prisoner.

  [Binds up her hair.] And Father Cardinal, I have heard you say

  That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:

  If that be true, I shall see my boy again;

  For since the birth of Cain, the first male child,

  80 To him that did but yesterday suspire,

  There was not such a gracious creature born.

  But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud

  And chase the native beauty from his cheek,

  And he will look as hollow as a ghost,

  85 As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit,

  And so he’ll die; and, rising so again,

  When I shall meet him in the court of heaven

  I shall not know him; therefore never, never

  Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

  PANDULPH

  90 You hold too heinous a respect of grief.

  CONSTANCE

  He talks to me that never had a son.

  KING PHILIP

  You are as fond of grief as of your child.

  CONSTANCE

  Grief fills the room up of my absent child,

  Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,

  95 Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,

  Remembers me of all his gracious parts,

  Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;

  Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?

  Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,

  100 I could give better comfort than you do.

  [Dishevels her hair.] I will not keep this form upon my head,

  When there is such disorder in my wit.

  O Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son,

  My life, my joy, my food, my all the world,

  My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure! Exit.

  KING PHILIP

  106 I fear some outrage, and I’ll follow her.

  Exit.

  DAUPHIN

  There’s nothing in this world can make me joy.

  Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale

  Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;

  110 And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet word’s taste,

  That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

  PANDULPH

  Before the curing of a strong disease,

  Even in the instant of repair and health,

  The fit is strongest; evils that take leave,

  115 On their departure most of all show evil.

  What have you lost by losing of this day?

  DAUPHIN

  All days of glory, joy and happiness.

  PANDULPH

  If you had won it, certainly you had.

  No, no: when Fortune means to men most good,

  120 She looks upon them with a threatening eye;

  ’Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost

  In this which he accounts so clearly won.

  Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner? [b1rb]

  DAUPHIN

  As heartily as he is glad he hath him.

  PANDULPH

  125 Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.

  Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit:

  For even the breath of what I mean to speak

  Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub

  Out of the path which shall directly lead

  130 Thy foot to England’s throne. And therefore mark:

  John hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be

  That whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins

  The misplaced John should entertain an hour,

  One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest.

  135 A sceptre snatched with an unruly hand

  Must be as boist’rously maintained as gained;

  And he that stands upon a slippery place

  Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up:

  That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall,

  140 So be it, for it cannot be but so.

  DAUPHIN

  But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s fall?

  PANDULPH

  You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife,

  May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

  DAUPHIN

  And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.

  PANDULPH

  145 How green you are, and fresh in this old world!

  John lays you plots: the times conspire with you,

  For he that steeps his safety in true blood

  Shall find but bloody safety and untrue.

  This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts

  150 Of all his people and freeze up their zeal

  That none so small advantage shall step forth

  To check his reign, but they will cherish it.

  No natural exhalation in the sky,

  No scope of nature, no distempered day,

  155 No common wind, no customed event,

  But they will pluck away his natural cause

  And call them meteors, prodigies and signs,

  Abortives, presages and tongues of heaven,

  Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

  DAUPHIN

  160 Maybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life,

  But hold himself safe in his prisonment.

  PANDULPH

  O sir, when he shall hear of your approach,

  If that young Arthur be not gone already,

  Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts

  165 Of all his people shall revolt from him

  And kiss the lips of unacquainted change,

  And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath

  Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John.

  Methinks I see this hurly all on foot;

  170 And O, what better matter breeds for you,

  Than I have named. The bastard Faulconbridge

  Is now in England ransacking the Church,

  Offending charity. If but a dozen French

  Were there in arms, they would be as a call

  175 To train ten thousand English to their side –

  Or as a little snow, tumbled about,

  Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,

  Go with me to the King. ’Tis wonderful

  What may be wrought out of their discontent

  180 Now that their souls are top-full of offence.

  For England, go. I will whet on the King.

  DAUPHIN

  Strong reasons makes strange actions. Let us go:

  If you say ay, the King will not say no. Exeunt.

  4.1 Enter HUBERT and Executioners [with a rope and irons]. [b1rb]

  HUBERT

  Heat me these irons hot, and look thou stand

  Within the arras. When I strike my foot

  Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth

  And bind the boy which you shall find with me

  5 Fast to the chair. Be heedful: hence, and watch.

  EXECUTIONER

  I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.

  HUBERT

  Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look to’t.

  [Executioners withdraw behind the arras.]

  Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.

  Enter ARTHUR.

  ARTHUR

  Good morrow, Hubert.

  HUBERT Good morrow, little prince.

  ARTHUR

  10 As little prince, having so great a title

  To be more prince, as may be. You are sad.

  HUBERT

  Indeed, I have been merrier.

  ARTHUR ’Mercy on me!

  Methinks nobody should be sad but I.

  Yet I remember, when I was in France

  15 Young gentlemen would be as sad as night

  Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,

  So I were out of prison and kept sheep

  I should be as merry as the day is long;

  And so I would be here but that I doubt

  20 My uncle practises more harm to me.

  He is afraid of me, and I of him.

  Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?

  No indeed is’t not, and I would to God

  I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

  HUBERT [aside]

  25 If I talk to him, with his innocent prate

  He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:

  Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.

  ARTHUR

  Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today.

  In sooth, I would you were a little sick,

  30 That I might sit all night and watch with you.

  I warrant I love you more than you do me.

  HUBERT [aside]

  His words do take possession of my bosom –

  [Shows warrant.] Read here, young Arthur.

  [aside] How now, foolish rheum

  Turning dispiteous torture out of door?

  35 I must be brief, lest resolution drop

  Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears –

  Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?

  ARTHUR

  Too fairly Hubert, for so foul effect.

  Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?

  HUBERT

  Young boy, I must.

  ARTHUR And will you?

  40 HUBERT And I will.

  ARTHUR

  Have you the heart? When your head did but ache

  I knit my handkerchief about your brows

  (The best I had, a princess wrought it me)

  And I did never ask it you again,

  45 And with my hand at midnight held your head,

  And like the watchful minutes to the hour

  Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,

  Saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief?’

  Or ‘What good love may I perform for you?’

  50 Many a poor man’s son would have lain still

  And ne’re have spoke a loving word to you,

  But you at your sick service had a prince.

  Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,

  And call it cunning. Do an if you will:

  If God be pleased that you must use me ill, [b1va]

  56 Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes –

  These eyes, that never did nor never shall

  So much as frown on you.

  HUBERT I have sworn to do it,

  And with hot irons must I burn them out.

  ARTHUR

  60 Ah, none but in this iron age would do it!

  The iron of itself, though heat red hot,

  Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears

  And quench his fiery indignation

  Even in the matter of mine innocence;

  65 Nay, after that consume away in rust

  But for containing fire to harm mine eye.

  Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?

  An if an angel should have come to me

  And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes

  70 I would not have believed him: no tongue

  But Hubert’s.

  HUBERT [Stamps his foot.] Come forth!

  [Enter Executioners with rope and heated irons.]

  Do as I bid you do.

  ARTHUR

  O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out

  Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

  HUBERT

  Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.

  [Takes the iron; Executioners seize Arthur.]

  ARTHUR

  75 Alas, what need you be so boist’rous-rough?

  I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still.

  For God’s sake, Hubert, let me not be bound!

  Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away

  And I will sit as quiet as a lamb;

  80 I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word,

  Nor look upon the iron angrily.

  Thrust but these men away and I’ll forgive you

  Whatever torment you do put me to.

  HUBERT [to Executioners]

  Go stand within, let me alone with him.

  EXECUTIONER

  85 I am best pleased to be from such a deed.

  [Exeunt Executioners.]

  ARTHUR

  Alas, I then have chid away my friend!

  He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart.

  Let him come back, that his compassion may

  Give life to yours.

  HUBERT Come, boy, prepare yourself.

  ARTHUR

  Is there no remedy?

  90 HUBERT None, but to lose your eyes.

  ARTHUR

  O God, that there were but a mote in yours,

  A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

  Any annoyance in that precious sense;

  Then, feeling what small things are boist’rous there,

  95 Your vile intent must needs 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!

  100 Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue

  So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes,

  Though 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

  105 No, in good sooth. The fire is dead with grief,

  Being create for comfort, to be used

  In undeserved extremes. See else yourself:

  There is no malice in this burning coal;

  The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out

  110 And strewed 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,

  115 And, like a dog that is compelled to fight,

  Snatch at his master that doth tar him on.

  All things that you should use to do me wrong [b1vb]

  Deny their office: only you do lack

  That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends,

  120 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 owns.

  Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy,

  With this same very iron to burn them out.

  ARTHUR

  125 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.

  I’ll fill these dogged spies with false reports,

  And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure

  130 That Hubert for the wealth of all the world

  Will not offend thee.

  ARTHUR O God! I thank you, Hubert.

  HUBERT

  Silence, no more. Go closely in with me.

  Much danger do I undergo for thee. Exeunt.

  4.2 [Flourish.] Enter KING JOHN[, crowned], PEMBROKE, SALISBURY and other Lords[, and Attendants].

  KING JOHN [Seats himself on the throne.]

  Here once again we sit, once again crowned,

  And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.

  PEMBROKE

  This ‘once again’, but that your highness pleased,

  Was once superfluous. You were crowned before,

  5 And that high royalty was ne’er plucked off,

  The faiths of men ne’er stained with revolt,

  Fresh expectation troubled not the land

  With any longed-for change or better state.

  SALISBURY

  Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp,

  10 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

  15 To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,

  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

  20 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 the course of thoughts to fetch about,

  25 Startles, and frights consideration,

  Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected

  For putting on so new a fashioned robe.

  PEMBROKE

  When workmen strive to do better than well

  They do confound their skill in covetousness,

  30 And oftentimes excusing of a fault

  Doth make the fault the worser by th’excuse:

  As patches set upon a little breach

  Discredit more in hiding of the fault

  Than did the fault before it was so patched.

  SALISBURY

  35 To this effect before you were new crowned

  We breathed our counsel, but it pleased your highness

  To overbear it; and we are all well pleased,

  Since all, and every part of what we would

  Doth make a stand at what your highness will.

  KING JOHN

  Some reasons of this double coronation [b2ra]

  41 I have possessed you with, and think them strong.