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The same. The French king's tent.
Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulph, and attend.
ants. R. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armado* of convicted t sail Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
praise, So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace!
• Fleet of war.
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 :-0 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, 0, 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 roase 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;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
Const. To England, if you will.
Bind up your hairs.
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 loobs, 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. 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!
(Exit. · K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
[Erit. 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
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
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 kiog John hath lost In this which he accounts so clearly won : Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? • Low. 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 ..
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub.
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: For he, that steeps his safety in true blood. Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal; That none so small advantage shall step fortlı, To check his reign, but they will cherish it: No natural exbalation in the sky, No scape of nature, no distemper'd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause, And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, Abortives, présages, and tongues of heaven, Plainly, denouncing vengeance upon John. 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 ap
proach, If that young Arthur be not gone already,