William Shakespeare

The Complete Historical Plays of William Shakespeare


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is in safety, fear you not:

       But on, my liege; for very little pains

       Will bring this labour to an happy end.

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE 3. The same.

       [Alarums, Excursions, Retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, and LORDS.]

       KING JOHN.

       [To ELINOR] So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind,

       So strongly guarded.—

       [To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad;

       Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will

       As dear be to thee as thy father was.

       ARTHUR.

       O, this will make my mother die with grief!

       KING JOHN.

       Cousin [To the BASTARD], away for England; haste before:

       And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags

       Of hoarding abbots; imprison’d angels

       Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace

       Must by the hungry now be fed upon:

       Use our commission in his utmost force.

       BASTARD.

       Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,

       When gold and silver becks me to come on.

       I leave your highness.—Grandam, I will pray,—

       If ever I remember to be holy,—

       For your fair safety; so, I kiss your hand.

       ELINOR.

       Farewell, gentle cousin.

       KING JOHN.

       Coz, farewell.

       [Exit BASTARD.]

       ELINOR.

       Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word.

       [She takes Arthur aside.]

       KING JOHN.

       Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,

       We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh

       There is a soul counts thee her creditor,

       And with advantage means to pay thy love:

       And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath

       Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.

       Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,—

       But I will fit it with some better time.

       By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham’d

       To say what good respect I have of thee.

       HUBERT.

       I am much bounden to your majesty.

       KING JOHN.

       Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet:

       But thou shalt have; and creep time ne’er so slow,

       Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.

       I had a thing to say,—but let it go:

       The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,

       Attended with the pleasures of the world,

       Is all too wanton and too full of gawds

       To give me audience:—if the midnight bell

       Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,

       Sound on into the drowsy race of night;

       If this same were a churchyard where we stand,

       And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;

       Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

       Had bak’d thy blood and made it heavy-thick,

       Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,

       Making that idiot, laughter, keep men’s eyes,

       And strain their cheeks to idle merriment—

       A passion hateful to my purposes;—

       Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,

       Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

       Without a tongue, using conceit alone,

       Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words,—

       Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,

       I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:

       But, ah, I will not!—yet I love thee well;

       And, by my troth, I think thou lov’st me well.

       HUBERT.

       So well that what you bid me undertake,

       Though that my death were adjunct to my act,

       By heaven, I would do it.

       KING JOHN.

       Do not I know thou wouldst?

       Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye

       On yon young boy: I’ll tell thee what, my friend,

       He is a very serpent in my way;

       And wheresoe’er this foot of mine doth tread,

       He lies before me: dost thou understand me?

       Thou art his keeper.

       HUBERT.

       And I’ll keep him so

       That he shall not offend your majesty.

       KING JOHN.

       Death.

       HUBERT.

       My lord?

       KING JOHN.

       A grave.

       HUBERT.

       He shall not live.

       KING JOHN.

       Enough!—

       I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee;

       Well, I’ll not say what I intend for thee:

       Remember.—Madam, fare you well:

       I’ll send those powers o’er to your majesty.

       ELINOR.

       My blessing go with thee!

       KING JOHN.

       For England, cousin, go:

       Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

       With all true duty.—On toward Calais, ho!

       [Exeunt.]

       SCENE 4. The same. The FRENCH KING’s tent.

       [Enter KING PHILIP, LOUIS, PANDULPH, and Attendants.]

       KING PHILIP.

       So, by a roaring tempest on the flood

       A whole armado of convicted sail

       Is scattered and disjoin’d from fellowship.

       PANDULPH.

       Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.

       KING PHILIP.

       What can go well, when we have run so ill.

       Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?

       Arthur ta’en prisoner? divers dear friends slain?

       And bloody England into England gone,

       O’erbearing interruption, spite of France?

       LOUIS.

       What he hath won, that hath he fortified:

       So hot a speed with such advice dispos’d,

       Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,

       Doth want example: who hath