Methinks I see a catalogue of sin
Wrote by a fiend in marble characters,
The least enough to lose my part in heaven.
Methinks the devil whispers in mine ears
And tells me 'tis in vain to hope for grace,
I must be damned for Arthur's sudden death.
I see, I see a thousand thousand men
Come to accuse me for my wrong on earth,
And there is none so merciful a God
That will forgive the number of my sins.
How have I liv'd but by another's loss?
What have I lov'd but wreck of other's weal?
When have I vow'd and not infring'd mine oath?
Where have I done a deed deserving well?
How, what, when and where have I bestow'd a day
That tended not to some notorious ill?
My life, replete with rage and tyranny,
Craves little pity for so strange a death;
Or who will say that John deceas'd too soon?
Who will not say he rather liv'd too long?

3.

[ARTHUR _warns the_ KING OF FRANCE _not to expect ready submission
from_ JOHN.]

I rather think the menace of the world
Sounds in his ears as threats of no esteem;
And sooner would he scorn Europa's power
Than lose the smallest title he enjoys;