K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to sav
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me audience:-If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,
Had bak'd 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,o
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 heaven, I'd do't.
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;
-full of gawds,] Gawds are any showy ornaments.
using conceit alone,] Conceit here, as in many other places, signifies conception, thought.
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: Dost thou understand me?
And I will keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember.Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
For England, cousin: Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho!
The same. The French King's Tent.
Enter King PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and
Attendants.
K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armado of convicted sail2
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.
1 Remember.] This is one of the scenes to which may be promised a lasting commendation. Art could add little to its perfection; no change in dramatick taste can injure it; and time itself can subtract nothing from its beauties.
of convicted sail-] Overpowered, baffled, destroyed.
K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'erbearing interruption, spite of France?
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this?
K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:-
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.
Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace!
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
Constance!
Const. No, I defy3 all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:-O amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy détestable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household worms;
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
3 No, I defy, &c.] To defy anciently signified to refuse.
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,*
O fair affliction, peace.
Const. 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.5
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
Const. 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!-
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal;
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliver'd of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself:
If I were mad, I should forget my son;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
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.
• 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!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
Const. To England, if
Const. Yes, that I will; And wherefore will I
I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud,
O that these hands could so redeem my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty!
But now I envy at their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
And, 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,7
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my 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.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.
long. I wish the following speeches had been equally happy; but they only serve to show how difficult it is to maintain the pathetick long. JOHNSON.
7 but yesterday suspire,] i. e. breathe.
a gracious creature born.] Gracious, i. e. graceful.
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