Chapter: SCENE 2.

The same. A Room of State in the Palace.

[Enter KING JOHN, crowned, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS.
The KING takes his State.]

KING JOHN.
Here once again we sit, once again crown'd,
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.

PEMBROKE.
This once again, but that your highness pleas'd,
Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off;
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land
With any long'd-for change or better state.

SALISBURY.
Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

PEMBROKE.
But that your royal pleasure must be done,
This act is as an ancient tale new told;
And, in the last repeating troublesome,
Being urged at a time unseasonable.

SALISBURY.
In this, the antique and well-noted face
Of plain old form is much disfigured;
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about;
Startles and frights consideration;
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe.

PEMBROKE.
When workmen strive to do better than well,
They do confound their skill in covetousness;
And oftentimes excusing of a fault
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 to-night.

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 of France
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here?

MESSENGER.
Under the Dauphin.

KING JOHN.
Thou hast made me giddy
With these in tidings.

[Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET.]

Now! What says the world
To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news, for it is full.

BASTARD.
But if you be afear'd to hear the worst,
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.

KING JOHN.
Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd
Under the tide: but now I breathe again
Aloft the flood; and can give audience
To any tongue, speak it of what it will.

BASTARD.
How I have sped among the clergymen,
The sums I have collected shall express.
But as I travell'd hither through the land,
I find the people strangely fantasied;
Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams.
Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear;
And here's a prophet that I brought with me
From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found
With many hundreds treading on his heels;
To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes,
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon,
Your highness should deliver up your crown.

KING JOHN.
Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so?

PETER.
Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so.

KING JOHN.
Hubert, away with him; imprison him;
And on that day at noon, whereon he says
I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd.
Deliver him to safety; and return,
For I must use thee.

[Exit HUBERT with PETER.]

O my gentle cousin,
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd?

BASTARD.
The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it;
Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury,--
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire,
And others more, going to seek the grave
Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night
On your suggestion.

KING JOHN.
Gentle kinsman, go
And thrust thyself into their companies:
I have a way to will their loves again:
Bring them before me.

BASTARD.
I will seek them out.

KING JOHN.
Nay, but make haste; the better foot before.
O, let me have no subject enemies
When adverse foreigners affright my towns
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion!
Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels,
And fly like thought from them to me again.

BASTARD.
The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.

KING JOHN.
Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman!

[Exit BASTARD.]

Go after him; for he perhaps shall need
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers;
And be thou he.

MESSENGER.
With all my heart, my liege.

[Exit.]

KING JOHN.
My mother dead!

[Re-enter HUBERT.]

HUBERT.
My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night;
Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about
The other four in wondrous motion.

KING JOHN.
Five moons!

HUBERT.
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;
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 embattailed and rank'd in Kent.
Another lean unwash'd artificer
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death.

KING JOHN.
Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death?
Thy hand hath murder'd him: I had a mighty cause
To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him.

HUBERT.
No had, my lord! why, did you not provoke me?

KING 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.

HUBERT.
Here is your hand and seal for what I did.

KING JOHN.
O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth
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
Make 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 villainy,
Apt, liable to be employ'd 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.

HUBERT.
My lord,--

KING JOHN.
Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause,
When I spake darkly what I purpos'd,
Or turn'd 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 brav'd,
Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign powers;
Nay, in the body of the fleshly land,
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns
Between my conscience and my cousin's death.

HUBERT.
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 enter'd yet
The dreadful motion of a murderous thought;
And you have slander'd nature in my form,--
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind
Than to be butcher of an innocent child.

KING JOHN.
Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers,
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.

[Exeunt.]

 Now we are in the English royal court, where King John has just had himself crowned... for a second time. Pembroke and Salisbury, two English noblemen, criticize John for this second coronation. They think it's pointless and wasteful. Also, they think that it makes people suspicious. If everything's on the up and up with John's right to be king, what's the point of getting crowned again? King John replies, "I've got my own reasons for getting crowned again. Anyway, tell me what you want changed, and I'll do what I can to make you happy." Pembroke tells the king that he and the other nobles only request that Arthur be set free. He says that imprisoning Arthur makes the people doubt that King John really has a legal right to the crown. Why else would he go to the trouble of locking his nephew up? Before King John can answer, Hubert walks into the room. King John tells the nobles, "No problem, your wish is my command." Then, he steps aside to have a private chat with Hubert. In the meantime, the nobles have a private chat of their own, amongst themselves. Pembroke says to Salisbury that he knows, through a friend, that Hubert had a warrant to execute Arthur. He also says that Hubert has a nervous, guilty look to him. Salisbury thinks the king looks nervous, too. When King John is done talking to Hubert, he turns to the two noblemen and says, "Sorry, fellas. You know I'd love to grant your request, but unfortunately, Arthur is dead." As you might expect, Pembroke and Salisbury think this is pretty shady. Even though King John acts like he had nothing to do with it, his noblemen storm out in a huff. Just then, a messenger comes in. King John asks him what's going on in France. The messenger replies that the French have gotten together a giant invasion force--and have already landed in England. King John can't believe his ears. How come his mother Eleanor, who is still in France, didn't warn him? The messenger replies that Queen Eleanor is dead. Constance is dead, too. According to the rumor, anyway. King John's all, "Oh no! My mom's dead? Now what's going to happen to all my land in France?" Because priorities. Next, King John says he wants to know who's leading the French forces. The messenger tells him it's Louis, the Dauphin of France. Just then, in walks the Bastard, accompanied by a man named Peter of Pomfret. The Bastard tells King John that church robbing has been a huge success... except for the fact that all the people of the land are freaked out by it. Get your highlighters out, because this is important: It turns out that Peter of Pomfret is a manic street preacher. He's predicted that King John will give up his crown before the next Ascension Day. King John orders Hubert to throw the preacher in the slammer--and to hang him on Ascension Day. Problem solved. Hubert takes Peter away. With that out of the way, King John asks the Bastard what else is going on. The Bastard reveals that he encountered Lord Bigot and the Earl of Salisbury on their way to find the grave of Arthur. King John orders the Bastard to go meet up with them and try to bring them back around to his side. With France invading England, he needs all the help he can get. John tells the messenger who just came from France to go with the Bastard. Now Hubert comes back into the room. Hubert tells King John that Arthur's death has got people freaked out throughout all of England. King John starts blaming Hubert for Arthur's death. Hubert's not having it--he reminds John that he's the one who ordered him to do it. Hmm. Is it just us, or does this remind you of what goes down in another Shakespearean history play, Richard II? Remember how Henry IV orders the execution of Richard II and then freaks out and denies it when the deed is done ? After listening to more griping from King John, Hubert finally interrupts and explains that actually, Arthur isn't really dead. Well, hooray. King John is overjoyed. He tells Hubert to hurry after the noblemen who are looking for Arthur's grave. King John hopes that once Hubert reveals the truth that Arthur is alive, the noblemen will come back to his side.

