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But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek ;
And he will look as hollow as a ghoft;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ;
And so he'll die and, rising fo again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heav'n
I shall not know him; therefore never, never,
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Land. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me, that never had a lon.-
K. Philip. You are as fond of grief, as of your child.
Conf. Grief fills the room up of my abfent child;
Lyes in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts ;
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare you well; had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than
do. I will not keep this form upon my head,
[Tearing off her head-cloaths. 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 forrow's cure!
Exit. K. Philip. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
[Exit. Lewis. There's nothing in this world can make me
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsie man.
A bitter shame hath spoilt the sweet world's taste,
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Ev'n in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest : evils that take leave,
On their departure, most of all shew evil.
What have you loft by losing of this day?
Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had.
No, no; when fortune means to men most good,
them with a threat'ning eye. is strange to think how much King John hath loft In this, which he accounts so clearly won. Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner ?
Lewis. 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 fpirit;
For ev'n the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each duft, 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 whilft warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour,
A minute, nay, one quiet breath, of rest.
A scepter, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boistrously maintain’d, as gain'd.
And he, that stands upon a slipp'ry 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.
Lewis. 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.
Lewis. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old
John lays you plots; the times conspire with you;
For he, that steeps his fafety in true blood,
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue.
This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up
That no so small advantage shall step forth
To check his reign, but they will cherish it.
No nat'ral exhalation in the sky,
No 'scape of nature, no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away its nat'ral cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, and presages, tongues of heav'n
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
Lewis. May be, he will not touch young
Arthur's life; But hold himielf safe in his prisonment.
Pand. O Sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,
Ev'n at this 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 Fáulconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the church,
Offending charity. If but twelve French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their fide
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. Noble Dauphin;
Go with me to the King: 'tis wonderful
What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Now that their souls are top-full of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the King.
Lewis. Strong reason makes strong actions: let us go; If you say ay, the King will not say no. (Excunt.
A CT IV.
SCENE changes to England.
Enter Hubert and Executioners.
HUBERT. 'E AT me these irons hot, and, look, thou stand Within the arras; when I ítrike
foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth; And bind the boy, which you thàll find with me, Fast to the chair: be heedful; hence, and watch.
Exe. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you ; look to't. Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you.
Enter Arthur. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. Good morrow, little prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title To be more prince) as may be. You are fad.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. Mercy on me!
Methinks, no body should be sad but I;
Yet I remember when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So were I out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be merry as the day is long,
And so I would be here, but that, I doubt,
My uncle practises more harm to me.
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault, that I was Geffrey's fon?
Indeed, it is not; and I would to heav'n,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lyes dead; Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch., [Afide.
Art. Are you fick, Hubert ? you look pale to day;
In sooth, I wou'd, you were a little fick;
That I might fit all night and watch with you.
Alas, I love you more than
Hub. His words do take poffefsion of my bosom.
Read here, young Arthur-
[Shewing a paper: How now, foolish rheum,
(Afide. Turning dis-piteous torture out of door ! I must be brief, left resolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?
Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for fo foul effect.
Must you with irons burn out both mine eyes ?
Hub. Young boy, I muft.
Arth. And will you?
Hub. And I will.
Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did but ake,
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me)
And I did never ask it you again ;
And with my hand at midnight held your head;
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon chear'd up the heavy time,
Saying, what lack you? and where lyes your grief?
Or what good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would have lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
fick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, an
If heav'n be pleas'd that you must use me ill,
Why then, you must- Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you.
Hub. l've sworn to do it;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it.