SALISBURY.
Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld,
Or have you read or heard, or could you think,
Or do you almost think, although you see,
That you do see? Could thought, without this object,
Form such another? This is the very top,
The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest,
Of murder’s arms. This is the bloodiest shame,
The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,
That ever wall-ey’d wrath or staring rage
Presented to the tears of soft remorse.
PEMBROKE.
All murders past do stand excus’d in this.
And this, so sole and so unmatchable,
Shall give a holiness, a purity,
To the yet unbegotten sin of times;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle.
BASTARD.
It is a damned and a bloody work;
The graceless action of a heavy hand,
If that it be the work of any hand.
SALISBURY.
If that it be the work of any hand?
We had a kind of light what would ensue.
It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand,
The practice and the purpose of the King,
From whose obedience I forbid my soul,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life,
And breathing to his breathless excellence
The incense of a vow, a holy vow,
Never to taste the pleasures of the world,
Never to be infected with delight,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness,
Till I have set a glory to this hand,
By giving it the worship of revenge.
PEMBROKE and BIGOT.
Our souls religiously confirm thy words.
Enter Hubert.
HUBERT.
Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you.
Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you.
SALISBURY.
O, he is bold and blushes not at death.
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone!
HUBERT.
I am no villain.
SALISBURY.
Must I rob the law?