K. John.
Here once again we sit, crown'd once again,
And look'd upon, I hope, with chearful eyes.

Pemb.
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.

Sal.
Therefore to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before;
To gild refined gold, to paint the lilly,
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 heav'n to garnish,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

Pemb.
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.

Sal.
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.

Pemb.
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.

Sal.
To this effect, before you were new-crown'd,

We breath'd our counsel; but it pleas'd your Highness
To over-bear it; yet we're all well pleas'd;
Since all and every part of what we would,
Must make a stand at what your Highness will.

K. John.
Some reasons of this double coronation
I have possest you with, and think them strong.
And more, more strong (the lesser is my fear)
I shall endue you with: mean time, 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.

Pemb.
Then I, as one that am the tongue of these,
To † ^notesound the purposes of all their hearts;
(Both for my self and them; but chief of all,
Your safety; for the which, my self and they
Bend their best studies;) heartily request
Th'infranchisement of Arthur; whose restraint
Doth move the murm'ring lips of discontent
To break into this dang'rous argument.
If what in rest you have, in right you hold,
Why shou'd your fears, (which, as they say, attend
The steps of wrong) then move you to mew up
Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days
With barb'rous ign'rance, 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 good we do no further ask,
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending,
Counts it your weal that he have liberty. Enter Hubert.

K. John.
Let it be so; I do commit his youth

To your direction. Hubert, what news with you?

Pemb.
This is the man should do the bloody deed:
He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine.
The image of a wicked heinous fault
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his
Does shew 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.

Sal.
The colour of the King doth come and go,
Between his purpose and his conscience,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battels set:
His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.

Pemb.
And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death.

K. 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.

Sal.
Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure.

Pemb.
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.

K. 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?

Sal.
It is apparent foul-play, and 'tis shame
That greatness should so grosly offer it:
So thrive it in your game, and so farewel.

Pemb.
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 own'd the breadth of all this isle,
Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while!

This must not be thus born, this will break out
To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. [Exeunt.

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