And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to fay-
But I will fit it with fome better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I'm almost asham'd
To fay what good respect I have of thee.
Hub. I am much bounden to your Majefty.

K. John. Good friend, thou haft no cause to say so

yet,

But thou fhalt have

go:

-and creep time ne'er so flow,
Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to fay -but, let it
The fun is in the heav'n, 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 (14)
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound one unto the drowfie race of night;
If this fame were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou poffeffed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that furly fpirit Melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy thick,
Which elfe runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that ideot laughter keep mens' eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment;
(A paffion hateful to my purposes)

Or if that thou could'ft fee me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, ufing conceit alone,

Without eyes, ears, and harmful found of words;

Did with his iron Tongue, and brazen Mouth,

Sound on into the drowzy race of Night ;] I do not think, that found on gives here that Idea of Solemnity and Horror, which, 'tis plain, our Poet intended to impress by this fine Defcription; and which my Emendation conveys. i. e. If it were the ftill part of the Night, or One of the Clock in the Morning, when the Sound of the Bell ftrikes upon the Ear with most Awe and Terror. And it is very usual with our ShakeSpeare in other Paffages to exprefs the Horror of a Midnight Bell.

Then,

Then, in defpight of broad-ey'd watchful day,
I would into thy bofom pour my thoughts:
But ah, I will not- -yet I love thee well;

And, by my troth, I think, thou lov't me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Tho' 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 ferpent in my way,

And, wherefoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,

He lyes before me.

Thou art his keeper.

Doft thou understand me?

Hub. And I'll keep him fo,

That he shall not offend your Majesty.

K. John. Death.

Hub. My lord?

K. John. A grave.

Hub. He fhall not live.

K. John. Enough.

I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee;

Well, I'll not fay what I intend for thee:
Madam, fare you well.

Remember:

[Returning to the Queen.

I'll fend those pow'rs o'er to your Majefty.

Eli. My bleffing go with thee!

K. John. For England, coufin, go.

Hubert fhall be your man, t'attend on you

With all true duty; on, toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the French Court.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpho, and Attendants. K. Philip. CO, by a roaring tempeft on the flood, SA whole Armado of collected fail

Is fcatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well.
K. Philip. What can go well, when we have run fo ill?

Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers loft ?.

Arthur

Arthur ta'en Pris'ner? diverse dear friends flain ?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'er-bearing interruption, fpite of France?

Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd:
So hot a speed with fuch advice difpos'd,
Such temp'rate order in fo fierce a cause,

Doth want example; who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this?

K. Philip. Well could I bear that England had this praise, So we could find fome pattern of our shame.

Enter Conftance.

Look, who comes here? a grave unto a foul,
Holding th' eternal spirit 'gainft her will
In the vile prifon of afflicted breath;

I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.

Conft. Lo, now, now fee the iffue of your peace.
K. Philip. Patience, good lady; comfort, gentle
Conftance.

Conft. No, I defie all counsel, and redress,
But that, which ends all counfel, true redress,
Death, death; oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous ftench, found rottenness,
Arife forth from thy couch of lafting night,
Thou hate and terror to profperity,
And I will kifs thy deteftable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy houfhold worms;
And stop this gap of breath with fulfom duft,
And be a carrion monfter, like thy felf;

Come, grin on me, and I will think thou fmil'ft,
And kifs thee as thy wife; mifery's love,

O come to me!

K. Philip. O fair affliction, peace.

Conft. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry; O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth, Then with a paffion I would fhake the world, And rouze from fleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, And fcorns a modern invocation.

Pand.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow.
Conft. Thou art not holy to belie me fo;
I am not mad; this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Conftance, I was Geffrey's wife:
Young Arthur my fon, and he is loft!
I am not mad; I would to heaven, I were!
For then, 'tis like, I fhould forget myself.
Oh, if I could, what grief fhould I forget!
Preach fome philofophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal.
For, being not mad, but fenfible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reafon
How I may be deliver'd of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself.
If I were mad, I fhould forget my fon,
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The diff'rent plague of each calamity.

K. Philip. Bind up thofe treffes; O, what love I note In the fair multitude of thofe her hairs;

Where but by chance a filver drop hath fall'n,

Ev'n to that drop ten thousand wiery friends
Do glew themselves in fociable grief;

Like true, infeparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.

Conft. To England, if you will.

K. Philip. Bind up your hairs.

Conft. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?

I tore them from their bonds, and cry'd aloud,
O, that these hands could fo redeem my son,
As they have giv'n 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 fhall fee and know our friends in heav'n;
If that be, I fhall fee my boy again.

For fince the birth of Cain, the first male-child,
To him that did but yesterday fufpire,

There was not fuch a gracious creature born.

But

But now will canker forrow 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 fo he'll die: and, rifing fo again,

When I fhall meet him in the court of heav'n
I fhall not know him; therefore never, never,
Muft I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Conft. He talks to me, that never had a fon.-
K. Philip. You are as fond of grief, as of your child.
Conft. 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 fuch a lofs as I,
I could give better comfort than you 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 fon!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my forrow's cure!

[Exit.

K. Philip. I fear fome outrage, and I'll follow her.

[Exit.

Lewis. 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 drowfie man.

A bitter fhame 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 inftant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest: evils that take leave,
On their departure, moft of all fhew evil.
What have you loft by lofing of this day?
Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had.

No,