Читать книгу King John (The Unabridged Play) + The Classic Biography: The Life of William Shakespeare - Sidney Lee - Страница 11

[Alarums, Excursions, Retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, and LORDS.]

KING JOHN.

[To ELINOR] So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind,

So strongly guarded.—

[To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad;

Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will

As dear be to thee as thy father was.

ARTHUR.

O, this will make my mother die with grief!

KING JOHN.

Cousin [To the BASTARD], away for England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags

Of hoarding abbots; imprison’d angels

Set at liberty: the fat ribs of peace

Must by the hungry now be fed upon:

Use our commission in his utmost force.

BASTARD.

Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,

When gold and silver becks 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.

ELINOR.

Farewell, gentle cousin.

KING JOHN.

Coz, farewell.

[Exit BASTARD.]

ELINOR.

Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word.

[She takes Arthur aside.]

KING JOHN.

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 am almost asham’d

To say what good respect I have of thee.

HUBERT.

I am much bounden to your majesty.

KING 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.

I had a thing to say,—but let it go:

The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,

Attended with the pleasures of the world,

Is all too wanton and too full of gawds

To give me audience:—if the midnight bell

Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,

Sound on into the drowsy race of night;

If this same were a churchyard where we stand,

And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak’d thy blood and made it heavy-thick,

Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,

Making that idiot, laughter, keep men’s eyes,

And strain their cheeks to idle merriment—

A passion hateful to my purposes;—

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

Without a tongue, using conceit alone,

Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words,—

Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,

I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:

But, ah, I will not!—yet I love thee well;

And, by my troth, I think thou lov’st me well.

HUBERT.

So well that what you bid me undertake,

Though that my death were adjunct to my act,

By heaven, I would do it.

KING JOHN.

Do not I know thou wouldst?

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 lies before me: dost thou understand me?

Thou art his keeper.

HUBERT.

And I’ll keep him so

That he shall not offend your majesty.

KING JOHN.

Death.

HUBERT.

My lord?

KING JOHN.

A grave.

HUBERT.

He shall not live.

KING 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:

I’ll send those powers o’er to your majesty.

ELINOR.

My blessing go with thee!

KING JOHN.

For England, cousin, go:

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

With all true duty.—On toward Calais, ho!

[Exeunt.]