K. John.
So shall it be; your Grace shall stay behind
So strongly guarded: Cousin, look not sad, [To Arthur.
Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will

As dear be to thee, as thy father was.

Arth.
O this will make my mother die with grief.

K. John.
Cousin away for England; haste before, [To Faulconbridge.
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding Abbots; their imprison'd angels
Set thou at liberty: ^{6 note}

Faulc.
Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,
When gold and silver beck 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.

Eli.
Farewel, my gentle cousin.

K. John.
Coz, farewel. [Exit Faulc.

Eli.
Come hither, little kinsman;—hark, a word. [Taking him to one side of the stage.

K. John. [to Hubert on the other side.
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'm almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.

Hub.
I am much bounden to your Majesty.

K. 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.
&plquo;I had a thing to say—but, let it go:
&plquo;The sun is in the heav'n, and the proud day,
&plquo;Attended with the pleasures of the world,
&plquo;Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
&plquo;To give me audience. If the midnight bell
&plquo;Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
&plquo;^{7 note}
Sound one unto the drowsie race of night;
&plquo;If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
&plquo;And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
&plquo;Or if that surly spirit Melancholy
&plquo;Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick,
&plquo;Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,
&plquo;Making that ideot laughter keep mens' eyes,
&plquo;And strain their cheeks to idle merriment;
&plquo;(A passion hateful to my purposes)
&plquo;Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
&plquo;Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
&plquo;Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
&plquo;Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
&plquo;Then, in despight of broad-ey'd watchful day,
&plquo;I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
&plquo;But ah, I will not&prquo;—yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.

Hub.
So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Tho' that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heav'n, I'd do't.

K. John.
Do not I know, thou would'st?
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 lyes before me. Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.

Hub.
And I'll keep him so,
That he shall not offend your Majesty.

K. John.
Death.

Hub.
My lord?

K. John.
A grave.

Hub.
He shall not live.

K. 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. [Returning to the Queen.
I'll send those pow'rs o'er to your Majesty.

Eli.
My blessing go with thee!

K. John.
For England, cousin, go.
Hubert shall be your man, t'attend on you
With all true duty; on, toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt.

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