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And be a carrion monster like thyself:
K. Phi. O fair affliction, peace.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so;
. K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: O, what love I
• Misery's love, &c.] Thou, death, who art courted by Misery to come to his relief, O come to me.
modern invocation.] i. e. trite, common. 6 Bind up those tresses: ] It was necessary that Constance should be interrupted, because a passion so violent cannot be borne
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Const. To England, if you will.
Bind up your hairs.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
long. I wish the following speeches had been equally happy; but
but yesterday suspire,] i. e. breathe.
K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your
child. Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent
do. I will not keep this form upon my head,
[Tearing off her head-dress. When there is such disorder in my wit. O lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! [Exit. K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
[Exit. Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make
me joy:' Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoild the sweet world's
taste, That it yields naught, but shame, and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort -- ] This is a sentiment which great sorrow always dictates. Whoever cannot help himself casts his eyes on others for assistance, and often mistakes their inability for coldness. Johnson.
· There's nothing in this, &c.] The young prince feels his defeat with more sensibility than his father. Shame operates most strongly in the earlier years; and when can disgrace be less welcome than when a man is going to his bride? Johnson.
On their departure most of all show evil:
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you have won it, certainly, you had. No, no: when fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 'Tis strange, to think how much king John hath
lost In this which he accounts so clearly won: Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner?
Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him. Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your
blood. Now hear me speak, with a prophetick spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be, That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: A scepter, snatch'd with an unruly hand, Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain’d: And he, that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: That John may stand, then Arthur needs must
fall; So be it, for it cannot be but so. Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's
fall? Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch your
wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old
John lays you plots; the times conspire with you;
Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your ap
proach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change; And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath, Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot; And, O, what better matter breeds for you, Than I have nam'd!—The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England, ransacking the church, Offending charity: If but a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the king: 'Tis wonderful, What may be wrought out of their discontent: : Now that their souls are topfull of offence,