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.

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?

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!
K. John.

For England, cousin :

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho!

[Excunt.

SCENE IV.

The same. The French king's tent.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulph, and attend

ants.

K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado of convicted + sail

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go
well.

K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run so
ill?

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.

Enter Constance.

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!

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K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle

Constance!

Const. No, I defy* 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, 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, come to me!

K. Phi.

O fair affliction, peace.

Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry: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 modernt invocation.

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

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Const. 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,

[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!

[Erit.

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 spoil'd the sweet world's

taste,

That it yields naught, but shame, and bitterness.
Pand. 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.
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
VOL. IV.

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