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? Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard, 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; 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 defy all counsel, all redress, And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows; Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st, 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. I am not mad ;-I would to heaven, I were! Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: O, what love I Bote In the fair multitude of those her hairs! Where but by chance a silver drop bath fallen, Const. To England, if you will. K. Phi. Bind up your hairs. Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud, And will again commit them to their bonds, For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child, There was not such a gracioust creature born. And so he'll die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; Pats on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Staffs 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. [Exit. 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. Even in the instant of repair and health, Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? D Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, That John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall; Lew. 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. Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots; the times conspire with you: Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, |