Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, Melancholy,
Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick;
Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, Laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;-
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply.
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But, ah! I will not: yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heav'n I'd'do't.
K. John. Do not I know thou would'st ?-
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way:
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?
Thou art, his keeper.
Hub. And I'll keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death..
Hub. My lord?
K. John. A grave.
Hub. He shall not live.
K. John. Enough
I could be merry now.-Hubert, I love thee ;-
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee.-
Remember.-[Going, L.] Madam, [To ELINOR] fare
you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
[Exeunt ELINOR and English Gentlemen, R.
K. John. For England, cousin, [To ARTHUR] go: Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty.-On, towards Calais, [To HUBERT]
[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.-Exeunt KING John, Hubert, ARTHUR, the Lords, GentleMEN, HERALD, and GUARDS, L.
SCENE IV.-France.-The French Court.
Enter LEWIS, KING PHILIP, and PANDULPH, R. K. Phil. (c.) So, by a roaring tempest in the flood, A whole armado of convicted sail
Is scatter'd, and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pan. (L. c.) Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.
K. Phil. What can go well, when we have run so ill? Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta'en prisoner?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'er bearing interruption ?-
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:
Enter CONSTANCE, L.
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.
Con. (L.) Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace! K. Phil. Patience, good lady! Comfort, gentle Constance !
Con. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:-O, amiable, lovely death:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st,
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
K. Phil. (R. C.) O fair affliction, peace.
Con. (L. c.) No, no, I will not, having breath to
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth,
Then with a passion would I shake the world;
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation
Pan. (L.) Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Con. Thou art not holy, to belie me so;
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance: I was Geffrey's wife;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost;
I am not mad;-I would to Heaven I were !
For then, 'tis like, I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget!-
K. Phil. Bind up those tresses.
Con. To England, if you will.
K. Phil. Bind up your hairs.
Con. O, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven:
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;
For since the birth of Cain, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat his bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit: ·
And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven,
I shall not know him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pan. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Con. He talks to me, that never had a son.
K. Phil. You are as fond of grief as of your child.
Con. Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies 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 you do.-
I will not keep this form upon my head,
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 sorrow's cure.
K. Phil. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. [Exit KING Philip, r
Lew. (R.) There's nothing in this world can make
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste,
That it yields naught, but shame and bitterness.
Pan. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils that take leave,
On their departure, most of all show evil:
What have you lost by losing of this day?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pan. If you had won it, certainly you had.
John hath seized Arthur; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest:
That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall.
Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall?
Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his imprisonment.
Pan, O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, 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.
Go with me to the King: 'Tis wonderful,
What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: Let us go ;
If you say, Ay, the King will not say, No.
[Exeunt the CARDINAL and LEWIS, R.
SCENE I.-England.-A Room in a Castle. Enter HUBERT, L. with Irons in his Hand, and Two EXECUTIONERS, with an Iron Pot.
Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras: when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth,
And bind the boy, which you shall find with me:-
Be heedful :-hence, and watch.
Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you :-look to't.[Exeunt EXECUTIONERS, L. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you.
Arth. (L.) Good morrow, Hubert.
Hub. (L.) Good morrow, little Prince.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince,) as may be.-You are sad.
Hub. (c.) Indeed, I have been merrier.
Arth. [Following him.] Mercy on me!
Methinks, nobody 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 I were out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be as 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 son ?
No, indeed, is't not: and I would to Heaven,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. [Aside.] If I talk to him, with his innocent
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden, and despatch.
Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day : In sooth, I would you were a little sick,
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