Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this: And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable, Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie, To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times; And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest, Exampled by this heynous spectacle

Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke, The gracelesse action of a heauy hand, If that it be the worke of any hand

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand? We had a kinde of light, what would ensue: It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand, The practice, and the purpose of the king: From whose obedience I forbid my soule, Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life, And breathing to his breathlesse Excellence The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow: Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world, Neuer to be infected with delight, Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse, Till I haue set a glory to this hand, By giuing it the worship of Reuenge

Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words. Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you, Arthur doth liue, the king hath sent for you

Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death, Auant thou hatefull villain, get thee gone

Hu. I am no villaine

Sal. Must I rob the Law? Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe

Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin

Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say By heauen, I thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours. I would not haue you (Lord) forget your selfe, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Least I, by marking of your rage, forget Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility

Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman? Hub. Not for my life: But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer

Hub. Do not proue me so: Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false, Not truely speakes: who speakes not truly, Lies

Pem. Cut him to peeces

Bast. Keepe the peace, I say

Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge

Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury. If thou but frowne on me, or stirre thy foote, Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame, Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime, Or Ile so maule you, and your tosting-Iron, That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none

Big. Who kill'd this Prince? Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lou'd him, and will weepe My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse

Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villanie is not without such rheume, And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme Like Riuers of remorse and innocencie. Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre Th' vncleanly sauours of a Slaughter-house, For I am stifled with this smell of sinne

Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there

P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out.

Ex. Lords.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

All Pages of This Book