KING JOHN AND HUBERT.-KING JOHN.
Hub. My lord, they say, five moons were seen to-night : Four fixed; and the fifth did whirl about
The other four, in wondrous motion.
K. John. Five moons?
Hub. Old men, and beldams, in the streets
Do prophesy upon it dangerously:
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths : And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear.
K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?
Thy hand hath murther'd him. I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.
Hub. None had, my lord! Why, did you not provoke 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 advised 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 ill deeds done! Hadst not thou been by, A fellow by the hand of nature marked, Quoted, and signed, to do a deed of shame, This murther had not come into my mind: But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, Apt, liable, to be employed in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; And thou, to be endeared to a king,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince.
K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a
When I spake darkly what I purposed,
Or turned an eye of doubt upon my face,
As bid me tell my tale in express 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 braved, 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 murtherous thought; And you have slandered nature in my form, Which, howsoever 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
Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience! Forgive the comment that my passion made Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, And foul imaginary eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous than thou art. O answer not; but to my closet bring
The angry lords, with all expedient haste : I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast.
LIONI AND BERTRAM.-MARINO FALIERO.
The Selections from Lord Byron's later works are inserted by the kind permission of John Murray, Esq.
Lioni. Now, stranger, what would you at such an hour? Bert. A boon, my noble patron; you have granted Many to your poor client Bertram; add
This one, and make him happy.
Lioni. Thou hast known me
From boyhood, ever ready to assist thee In all fair objects of advancement which Beseem one of thy station; I would promise Ere thy request was heard, but that the hour, Thy bearing, and this strange and hurried mode Of suing, gives me to suspect this visit Hath some mysterious import-but say on. Bert. My lord, I thank you: but- Lioni. But what? You have not
Raised a rash hand against one of our order? If so, withdraw, and fly, and own it not;
I would not slay—but then, I must not save thee! He who has shed patrician blood-
To save patrician blood, and not to shed it!
And thereunto I must be speedy, for
Each minute lost may lose a life; since Time
Has changed his slow scythe for the two-edged sword,
And is about to take, instead of sand,
The dust from sepulchres to fill his hour-glass!
Go not thou forth to-morrow!
Lioni. Wherefore not
What means this menace?
Bert. Do not seek its meaning,
But do as I implore thee;-stir not forth, Whate'er be stirring; though the roar of crowds- The cry of women, and the shrieks of babes-
The groans of men-the clash of arms-the sound Of rolling drum, shrill trump, and hollow bell, Peal in one wide alarum ! Go not forth
Until the tocsin's silent, nor even then Till I return!
Lioni. Again, what does this mean?
Bert. Again I tell thee, ask not; but by all Thou holdest dear on earth or heaven-by all The souls of thy great fathers, and thy hope To emulate them, and to leave behind
Descendants worthy both of them and thee- By all thou hast of blest in hope or memory— By all thou hast to fear here or hereafter— By all the good deeds thou hast done to me, Good I would now repay with greater good, Remain within-trust to thy household gods, And to my word, for safety, if thou dost As now I counsel-but if not, thou art lost!
Lioni. I am, indeed, already lost in wonder; Surely thou ravest! What have I to dread? Who are my foes? Or if there be such, why Art thou leagued with them! thou! or if so leagued, Why comest thou to tell me at this hour, And not before?
Bert. I cannot answer this.
Wilt thou go forth despite of this true warning? Lioni. I was not born to shrink from idle threats, The cause of which I know not: at the hour
Of council, be it soon or late, I shall not
Be found among the absent.
Bert. Say not so;
Once more, art thou determin'd to go forth?
Lioni. I am. Nor is there aught which shall impede me! Bert. Then Heaven have mercy on thy soul! Farewell! [Going.
Lioni. Stay-there is more in this than my own safety, Which makes me call thee back; we must not part thus: Bertram, I have known thee long.
Bert. From childhood, signor,
You have been my protector: in the days Of reckless infancy, when rank forgets,
Or, rather, is not yet taught to remember Its cold prerogative, we played together;
Our sports, our smiles, our tears, were mingled oft; My father was your father's client, I
His son's scarce less than foster-brother; years Saw us together-happy, heart-full hours!
Oh God! the difference 'twixt those hours and this! Lioni. Bertram, 'tis thou who hast forgotten them. Bert. Nor now, nor ever; whatsoe'er betide,
I would have saved you: when to manhood's growth We sprung, and you devoted to the state,
As suits your station, the more humble Bertram Was left unto the labours of the humble, Still you forsook me not; and if my fortunes Have not been towering, 'twas no fault of him Who oft-times rescued and supported me, When struggling with the tides of circumstance, Which bear away the weaker: noble blood Ne'er mantled in a nobler heart than thine Has proved to me, the poor plebeian Bertram. Would that thy fellow-senators were like thee?
Lioni. Why, what hast thou to say against the senate? Bert. Nothing.
Lioni, I know that there are angry spirits And turbulent mutterers of stifled treason, Who lurk in narrow places, and walk out Muffled to whisper curses to the night; Disbanded soldiers, discontented ruffians, And desperate libertines, who brawl in taverns ; Thou herdest not with such: 'tis true, of late I have lost sight of thee, but thou wert wont To lead a temperate life, and break thy bread With honest mates, and bear a cheerful aspect. What hath come to thee? In thy hollow eye And hueless cheek, and thine unquiet motions, Sorrow and shame and conscience seem at war To waste thee.
Bert. Rather shame and sorrow light On the accursed tyranny which rides The very air in Venice, and makes men Madden as in the last hours of the plague,
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