These signs have mark'd me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.
Where is he living, clipt in with the sea
That chides the banks of England, Wales, or Scotland,
Who calls me pupil, or hath read to me?
And bring him out, that is but woman's son,
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art,
Or hold me pace in deep experiments.

Hot. I think there is no man speaks better Welsh.

Glen. I can speak English, Lord, as well as you ;
For I was train'd up in the English court,
Where, being young, I framed to the harp
Many an English ditty lovely well,
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament;
A virtue that was never seen in you.

Hot. Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart ;
I'd rather be a kitten, and
Than one of these same metre-balladmongers !
I'd rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd,
Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree,
And that would

nothing set my teeth on edge, Nothing so much as mincing poetry ; 'Tis like the forc'd gait of a shuffling nag.

Glen. I can call spirits from the vasty deep.

Hot. Why so can I, or so can any man ;
But will they come when you do call for them ?

Glen. Why, I can teach them to command the devil.

Hot. And I can teach thee, coz, to shame the devil, By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the devil.If thou hast power to raise him, bring him hither, And I'll be sworn I've pow'r to drive him hence. O, while you live, Tell truth, and shame the devil.


cry mew!



“But for my own part, my Lord, I could be well contented to be there in respect to the love I bear your house.” He could be contented to be there, why is he not then?

“In respect of the love he bears our house?” He shows in this, he loves his own barn better than he loves our house. Let me see some more. The purpose you undertake is dangerous.” Why, that is certain : it is dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink: but I tell you, my Lord fool, out of this nettle danger we pluck this flower safety. “The “purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends


have “named uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your

whole “plot too light for the counterpoise of so great an opposi- tion.” Say you so ! say you so! I say unto you again, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie. What a lackbrain is this! By the Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid ; our friends true and constant; a good plot, good friends, and full of expectation ; an excellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty-spirited rogue this is ! Why, my Lord of York commends the plot, an, the general course of the action. By this hand, if I were now by this rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. Are there not my father, my uncle, and myself, Lord Edmund Mortimer, my Lord of York, and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, the Douglas ? Have I not all their letters, to meet me in arms by the ninth of next month? And are there not some of them set forward already. What a Pagan rascal is this ! an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very sincerity of fear and cold heart will he to the King, and lay open all our proceedings. O, I could divide myself, and go to buffets, for moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so honourable an action. Hang him, let him tell the King. We are prepared, I will set forward to night.




Hub. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night : Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about The other four in wond'rous motion.

K. John. Five moons ?

Hub. Old men and beldams in the streets Do prophesy upon it dangerously. Young Arthur's death is coinmon in their mouths ; And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist; Whilst he that hears makes fearful action, With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, Standing on slippers (which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet), Told of a many thousand warlike French That were embattl'd and rank'd in Kent: Another lean unwash'd artificer Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. K. John. Why seek'st thou to posseßs me with these

Why singest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
Thy hand hath murdered him. I had mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
Hub. Had none, my Lord? Why, did you not pro-

voke me?
K. John. It is the curse of kings to be attended
By slaves, that take their humours for a warrant
To break within the bloody house of life;
And, on the winking of authority,
To understand a law, to know the meaning
Of dangerous majesty when, perchance, it frowns
More upon humour than advis'd respect.

Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what I did.
K. John. O! When the last account 'twixt heaven and

Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal
Witness against us to damnation !
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by,
A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd,
Quoted, and sign’d to do a deed of shame,
This murder had not come into my mind;

But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany,
Apt, liable to be employed in danger,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ;
And thou, to be endear’d to a king,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.

Hub. My lord--
K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a

When I spake darkly of what I purposed,
Or turn’d an eye of doubt upon my face,
As bid me tell my tale in express of words,
Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off,
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me:
But thou didst understand me by my signs,
And didst in signs again parley with sin;
Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent,
And, consequently, thy rude hand, to act
The deed which both our tongues held vile to name.
Out of my sight, and never see me more !
My nobles leave me; and my state is brav’d,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers :
Nay, in the body of this fleshly land,
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns
Between my conscience and my cousin's death.

Hub. Arm you against your other enemies ;
I'll make a peace between your soul and you.
Young Arthur is alive! This hand of mine
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood :
Within this bosom never entered yet
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought,
have slander'd nature in

Which, however rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.
K. John. Doth Arthur live? O! haste thee to the

peers ;
Throw this report on their incens'd rage,
And make them tame to their obedience!
Forgive the comment that my passion made

form ;

Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood
Presented thee more hideous than thou art.
0, answer not! but to my closet bring
The angry lords, with all expedient haste:
I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast.


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