Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse,—
As patches set upon a little breach
Discredit more in hiding of the fault
Than did the fault before it was so patch’d.
SALISBURY.
To this effect, before you were new-crown’d,
We breath’d our counsel: but it pleas’d your highness
To overbear it; and we are all well pleas’d,
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
I have possess’d 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 reform’d that is not well,
And well shall you perceive how willingly
I will both hear and grant 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
The enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent
To break 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 time’s enemies may not 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 news with you?
PEMBROKE.
This is the man should do the bloody deed;
He show’d 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 fear’d 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 child’s death.
KING JOHN.
We cannot hold mortality’s 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 deceas’d tonight.
SALISBURY.
Indeed, we fear’d 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 answer’d 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 Salisbury, I’ll go with thee
And find th’ inheritance of this poor child,
His little kingdom of a forced grave.
That blood which ow’d 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 LORDS.]
KING JOHN.
They burn in indignation. I repent:
There is no sure foundation set on blood;
No certain life achiev’d 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 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 learn’d by them;
For when you should be told they do prepare,
The tidings comes that they are all arriv’d.
KING JOHN.
O, where hath our intelligence been drunk?
Where hath it slept? Where is my mother’s care,
That such an army could be drawn in France,
And she not hear of it?
MESSENGER.
My liege, her ear
Is stopp’d 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 rumour’s tongue
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 pleas’d
My discontented peers!—What! mother dead!
How wildly, then, walks my estate in France!—
Under whose conduct came those powers