Shakespeare's First Folio Part 263

Looke who comes heere? a graue vnto a soule, Holding th' eternall spirit against her will, In the vilde prison of afflicted breath: I prethee Lady goe away with me

Con. Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace

Fra. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance

Con. No, I defie all Counsell, all redresse, But that which ends all counsell, true Redresse: Death, death, O amiable, louely death, Thou odoriferous stench: sound rottennesse, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperitie, And I will kisse thy detestable bones, And put my eye-b.a.l.l.s in thy vaultie browes, And ring these fingers with thy houshold wormes, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a Carrion Monster like thy selfe; Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou smil'st, And busse thee as thy wife: Miseries Loue, O come to me

Fra. O faire affliction, peace

Con. No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry: O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth, Then with a pa.s.sion would I shake the world, And rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce, Which scornes a moderne Inuocation

Pand. Lady, you vtter madnesse, and not sorrow

Con. Thou art holy to belye me so, I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine, My name is Constance, I was Geffreyes wife, Yong Arthur is my sonne, and he is lost: I am not mad, I would to heauen I were, For then 'tis like I should forget my selfe: O, if I could, what griefe should I forget?

Preach some Philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.) For, being not mad, but sensible of greefe, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliuer'd of these woes.

And teaches mee to kill or hang my selfe: If I were mad, I should forget my sonne, Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he; I am not mad: too well, too well I feele The different plague of each calamitie

Fra. Binde vp those tresses: O what loue I note In the faire mult.i.tude of those her haires; Where but by chance a siluer drop hath falne, Euen to that drop ten thousand wiery fiends Doe glew themselues in sociable griefe, Like true, inseparable, faithfull loues, Sticking together in calamitie

Con. To England, if you will

Fra. Binde vp your haires

Con. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it?

I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud, O, that these hands could so redeeme my sonne, As they haue giuen these hayres their libertie: But now I enuie at their libertie, And will againe commit them to their bonds, Because my poore childe is a prisoner.

And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heauen: If that be true, I shall see my boy againe; For since the birth of Caine, the first male-childe To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature borne: But now will Canker-sorrow eat my bud, And chase the natiue beauty from his cheeke, And he will looke as hollow as a Ghost, As dim and meager as an Agues fitte, And so hee'll dye: and rising so againe, When I shall meet him in the Court of heauen I shall not know him: therefore neuer, neuer Must I behold my pretty Arthur more

Pand. You hold too heynous a respect of greefe

Const. He talkes to me, that neuer had a sonne

Fra. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe

Con. Greefe fils the roome vp of my absent childe: Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me, Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme; Then, haue I reason to be fond of griefe?

Fareyouwell: had you such a losse as I, I could giue better comfort then you doe.

I will not keepe this forme vpon my head, When there is such disorder in my witte: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire sonne, My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world: My widow-comfort, and my sorrowes cure.

Enter.

Fra. I feare some out-rage, and Ile follow her.

Enter

Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull eare of a drowsie man; And bitter shame hath spoyl'd the sweet words taste, That it yeelds nought but shame and bitternesse

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Euen in the instant of repaire and health, The fit is strongest: Euils that take leaue On their departure, most of all shew euill: What haue you lost by losing of this day?

Dol. All daies of glory, ioy, and happinesse

Pan. If you had won it, certainely you had.

No, no: when Fortune meanes to men most good, Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye: 'Tis strange to thinke how much King Iohn hath lost In this which he accounts so clearely wonne: Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his prisoner?

Dol. As heartily as he is glad he hath him

Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood.

Now heare me speake with a propheticke spirit: For euen the breath of what I meane to speake, Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foote to Englands Throne. And therefore marke: Iohn hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines, The mis-plac'dIohn should entertaine an houre, One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest.

A Scepter s.n.a.t.c.h'd with an vnruly hand, Must be as boysterously maintain'd as gain'd.

And he that stands vpon a slipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp: That Iohn may stand, then Arthur needs must fall, So be it, for it cannot be but so

Dol. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall?

Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claime that Arthur did

Dol. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did

Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world?

Iohn layes you plots: the times conspire with you, For he that steepes his safetie in true blood, Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vntrue.

This Act so euilly borne shall coole the hearts Of all his people, and freeze vp their zeale, That none so small aduantage shall step forth To checke his reigne, but they will cherish it.

No naturall exhalation in the skie, No scope of Nature, no distemper'd day, No common winde, no customed euent, But they will plucke away his naturall cause, And call them Meteors, prodigies, and signes, Abbortiues, presages, and tongues of heauen, Plainly denouncing vengeance vpon Iohn

Dol. May be he will not touch yong Arthurs life, But hold himselfe safe in his prisonment

Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach, If that yong Arthur be not gone alreadie, Euen at that newes he dies: and then the hearts Of all his people shall reuolt from him, And kisse the lippes of vnacquainted change, And picke strong matter of reuolt, and wrath Out of the b.l.o.o.d.y fingers ends of Iohn.

Me thinkes I see this hurley all on foot; And O, what better matter breeds for you, Then I haue nam'd. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d Falconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending Charity: If but a dozen French Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call To traine ten thousand English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a Mountaine. O n.o.ble Dolphine, Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderfull, What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their soules are topfull of offence, For England go; I will whet on the King

Dol. Strong reasons makes strange actions: let vs go, If you say I, the King will not say no.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heate me these Irons hot, and looke thou stand Within the Arras: when I strike my foot Vpon the bosome of the ground, rush forth And binde the boy, which you shall finde with me Fast to the chaire: be heedfull: hence, and watch

Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed

Hub. Vncleanly scruples feare not you: looke too't.

Yong Lad come forth; I haue to say with you.

Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince

Ar. As little Prince, hauing so great a t.i.tle To be more Prince, as may be: you are sad

Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier

Art. 'Mercie on me: Me thinkes no body should be sad but I: Yet I remember, when I was in France, Yong Gentlemen would be as sad as night Onely for wantonnesse: by my Christendome, So I were out of prison, and kept Sheepe I should be as merry as the day is long: And so I would be heere, but that I doubt My Vnckle practises more harme to me: He is affraid of me, and I of him: Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne?

No in deede is't not: and I would to heauen I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert: Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercie, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch

Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day, Insooth I would you were a little sicke, That I might sit all night, and watch with you.