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. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you: Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for you. O, he is old and blushes not at death. Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! I am no villain. Must I rob the law? Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours: I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget Your worth, your greatness and nobility. Out, dunghill! darest thou brave a nobleman? Not for my life: but yet I dare defend My innocent life against an emperor. Thou art a murderer. Do not prove me so; Yet I am none: whose tongue soe'er speaks false, Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. Cut him to pieces. Keep the peace, I say. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury: If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a villain and a murderer? Lord Bigot, I am none. Who kill'd this prince? 'Tis not an hour since I left him well: I honour'd him, I loved him, and will weep My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villany is not without such rheum; And he, long traded in it, makes it seem Like rivers of remorse and innocency. Away with me, all you whose souls abhor The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; For I am stifled with this smell of sin. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! There tell the king he may inquire us out. Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? Beyond the infinite and boundless reach Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, Art thou damn'd, Hubert. Do but hear me,