King John

shame hath spoil’d the sweet world’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,
On their departure most of all show evil:
What have you lost by losing of this day?

Lewis 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,
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?

Lewis As heartily as he is glad he hath him. Pandulph

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
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.
A sceptre snatch’d with an unruly hand
Must be as boisterously maintain’d as gain’d;
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;
So be it, for it cannot be but so.

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

You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.

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

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 born shall cool the hearts
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 distemper’d day,
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.

Lewis

May be 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
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:
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
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,
Now that their souls are topfull of offence.
For England go: I will whet on the king.

Lewis

Strong reasons make strong actions: let us go:
If you say ay, the king will not say no. Exeunt.

Act IV

Scene I

A room in a castle.

	Enter Hubert and Executioners.
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 Fast to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.
First Executioner	I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hubert	Uncleanly scruples! fear not you: look to’t. Exeunt Executioners. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.
	Enter Arthur.
Arthur	Good morrow, Hubert.
Hubert	Good morrow, little prince.
Arthur	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 no body should be sad but I: Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 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 My uncle practises more harm to me: He is afraid of me and I of him: Is it my fault that I was Geffrey’s son? No, indeed, is’t not; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hubert	Aside. 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 to-day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick, 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. Read here, young Arthur. Showing a paper. Aside. How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! 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?
Hubert	And I will.
Arthur	Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, I knit my handkercher about your brows, The best I had, a princess wrought it me, And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head, And like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheer’d up the heavy time, Saying, “What lack you?” and “Where lies your grief?” Or “What good love may I perform for you?” Many a poor man’s son would have lien still And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you; But you at