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twg_000000020300 | not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; Be well advisd, tell oer thy tale again. It cannot be; thou dost but say tis so. I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man. Believe me, I do not believe thee, man. I have a kings oath to the contrary. Thou shalt | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020301 | be punishd for thus frighting me, For I am sick and capable of fears, Oppressd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears, A woman, naturally born to fears, And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, With my vexd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020302 | day. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, Like a proud river peering oer his bounds? Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak againnot all thy former tale, But this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020303 | one word, whether thy tale be true. SALISBURY. As true as I believe you think them false That give you cause to prove my saying true. CONSTANCE. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die, And let belief and life encounter so As doth the fury of two desperate men | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020304 | Which in the very meeting fall and die. Louis marry Blanche? O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England? What becomes of me? Fellow, be gone. I cannot brook thy sight. This news hath made thee a most ugly man. SALISBURY. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020305 | CONSTANCE. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it. ARTHUR. I do beseech you, madam, be content. CONSTANCE. If thou, that bidst me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and slandrous to thy mothers womb, Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patchd with foul moles and eye-offending | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020306 | marks, I would not care, I then would be content, For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy, Nature and Fortune joind to make thee great. Of Natures gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020307 | Fortune, O, She is corrupted, changd, and won from thee; She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, And with her golden hand hath pluckd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune and King John, That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! Tell me, thou fellow, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020308 | is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone, And leave those woes alone which I alone Am bound to underbear. SALISBURY. Pardon me, madam, I may not go without you to the Kings. CONSTANCE. Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee. I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, For grief is proud | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020309 | and makes his owner stoop. To me and to the state of my great grief Let kings assemble; for my griefs so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up. Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. [_Seats herself on the ground._] Enter King John, King Philip, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020310 | Louis, Blanche, Eleanor, Bastard, Austria and attendants. KING PHILIP. Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day Ever in France shall be kept festival. To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendour of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold. The yearly course that brings this day | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020311 | about Shall never see it but a holy day. CONSTANCE. [_Rising_.] A wicked day, and not a holy day! What hath this day deservd? What hath it done That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppression, perjury. Or, if | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020312 | it must stand still, let wives with child Pray that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossd. But on this day let seamen fear no wrack; No bargains break that are not this day made; This day, all things begun come to ill end, Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! KING PHILIP. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020313 | By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day. Have I not pawnd to you my majesty? CONSTANCE. You have beguild me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty, which, being touchd and tried, Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn. You came in arms to spill mine enemies blood, But now in arms you strengthen | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020314 | it with yours. The grappling vigour and rough frown of war Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league. Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjurd kings! A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens! Let not the hours of this ungodly day Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, Set | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020315 | armed discord twixt these perjurd kings! Hear me, O, hear me! AUSTRIA. Lady Constance, peace! CONSTANCE. War! war! no peace! Peace is to me a war. O Limoges, O Austria, thou dost shame That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortunes champion that dost | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020316 | never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! Thou art perjurd too, And soothst up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp, and swear Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend Upon thy stars, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020317 | thy fortune, and thy strength? And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lions hide! Doff it for shame, And hang a calfs-skin on those recreant limbs. AUSTRIA. O that a man should speak those words to me! BASTARD. And hang a calfs-skin on those recreant limbs. AUSTRIA. Thou darst not say so, villain, for thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020318 | life. BASTARD. And hang a calfs-skin on those recreant limbs. KING JOHN. We like not this. Thou dost forget thyself. KING PHILIP. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. Enter Pandulph. PANDULPH. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! To thee, King John, my holy errand is. I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, And from Pope Innocent the legate here, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020319 | Do in his name religiously demand Why thou against the church, our holy mother, So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury, from that holy see. This, in our foresaid holy fathers name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. KING JOHN. What earthy name to interrogatories Can task the free breath of a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020320 | sacred king? Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, To charge me to an answer, as the pope. Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England Add thus much more, that no Italian priest Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; But as we under God are supreme head, So, under Him, that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020321 | great supremacy, Where we do reign, we will alone uphold Without th assistance of a mortal hand. So tell the pope, all reverence set apart To him and his usurpd authority. KING PHILIP. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. KING JOHN. Though you and all the kings of Christendom Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, Dreading the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020322 | curse that money may buy out; And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Who in that sale sells pardon from himself; Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish, Yet I alone, alone do me oppose Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020323 | PANDULPH. Then, by the lawful power that I have, Thou shalt stand cursd and excommunicate; And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be calld, Canonized and worshippd as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life. CONSTANCE. O, lawful let it be That I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020324 | have room with Rome to curse awhile! Good father Cardinal, cry thou amen To my keen curses; for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. PANDULPH. Theres law and warrant, lady, for my curse. CONSTANCE. And for mine too. When law can do no right, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020325 | Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, For he that holds his kingdom holds the law; Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? PANDULPH. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, Let go the hand of that arch-heretic, And raise the power of France upon his head, Unless he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020326 | do submit himself to Rome. QUEEN ELEANOR. Lookst thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand. CONSTANCE Look to that, devil, lest that France repent And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. AUSTRIA. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. BASTARD. And hang a calfs-skin on his recreant limbs. AUSTRIA. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020327 | BASTARD. Your breeches best may carry them. KING JOHN. Philip, what sayst thou to the cardinal? CONSTANCE. What should he say, but as the cardinal? LOUIS. Bethink you, father; for the difference Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, Or the light loss of England for a friend. Forgo the easier. BLANCHE. Thats the curse of Rome. CONSTANCE. O | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020328 | Louis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. BLANCHE. The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, But from her need. CONSTANCE. O, if thou grant my need, Which only lives but by the death of faith, That need must needs infer this principle: That faith would live again by death of need. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020329 | O then tread down my need, and faith mounts up; Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! KING JOHN. The King is movd, and answers not to this. CONSTANCE. O, be removd from him, and answer well! AUSTRIA. Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. BASTARD. Hang nothing but a calfs-skin, most sweet lout. KING PHILIP. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020330 | I am perplexd, and know not what to say. PANDULPH. What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, If thou stand excommunicate and cursd? KING PHILIP. Good reverend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you would bestow yourself. This royal hand and mine are newly knit, And the conjunction of our inward souls Married in league, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020331 | coupled and linkd together With all religious strength of sacred vows; The latest breath that gave the sound of words Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; And even before this truce, but new before, No longer than we well could wash our hands To clap this royal bargain up of peace, Heaven | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020332 | knows, they were besmeard and overstaind With slaughters pencil, where revenge did paint The fearful difference of incensed kings. And shall these hands, so lately purgd of blood, So newly joind in love, so strong in both, Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? Play fast and loose with faith? So jest with heaven, Make such unconstant children of ourselves, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020333 | As now again to snatch our palm from palm, Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, And make a riot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, My reverend father, let it not be so! Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose Some gentle order, and then we shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020334 | be blest To do your pleasure and continue friends. PANDULPH. All form is formless, order orderless, Save what is opposite to Englands love. Therefore to arms! Be champion of our church, Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, A mothers curse, on her revolting son. France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020335 | the mortal paw, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. KING PHILIP. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. PANDULPH. So makst thou faith an enemy to faith, And like a civil war settst oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow First made | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020336 | to heaven, first be to heaven performd, That is, to be the champion of our church. What since thou sworst is sworn against thyself And may not be performed by thyself, For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss Is not amiss when it is truly done; And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020337 | then most done not doing it. The better act of purposes mistook Is to mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, And falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cools fire Within the scorched veins of one new-burnd. It is religion that doth make vows kept, But thou hast sworn against religion By what thou swearst against the thing thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020338 | swearst, And makst an oath the surety for thy truth Against an oath. The truth thou art unsure To swear, swears only not to be forsworn, Else what a mockery should it be to swear? But thou dost swear only to be forsworn, And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. Therefore thy latter vows against thy first Is | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020339 | in thyself rebellion to thyself; And better conquest never canst thou make Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions, Upon which better part our prayers come in, If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know The peril of our curses light on thee, So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020340 | in despair die under the black weight. AUSTRIA. Rebellion, flat rebellion! BASTARD. Willt not be? Will not a calfs-skin stop that mouth of thine? LOUIS. Father, to arms! BLANCHE. Upon thy wedding-day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughterd men? Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, Clamours of hell, be measures | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020341 | to our pomp? O husband, hear me! Ay, alack, how new Is husband in my mouth! Even for that name, Which till this time my tongue did neer pronounce, Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms Against mine uncle. CONSTANCE. O, upon my knee, Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020342 | the doom Forethought by heaven! BLANCHE. Now shall I see thy love. What motive may Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? CONSTANCE. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, His honour. O, thine honour, Louis, thine honour! LOUIS. I muse your majesty doth seem so cold, When such profound respects do pull you on. PANDULPH. I will | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020343 | denounce a curse upon his head. KING PHILIP. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from thee. CONSTANCE. O fair return of banishd majesty! QUEEN ELEANOR. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! KING JOHN. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. BASTARD. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, Is it as he will? Well, then, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020344 | France shall rue. BLANCHE. The suns oercast with blood. Fair day, adieu! Which is the side that I must go withal? I am with both, each army hath a hand; And in their rage, I having hold of both, They whirl asunder and dismember me. Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; Uncle, I needs must pray that thou | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020345 | mayst lose; Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive. Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose; Assured loss before the match be playd. LOUIS. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies. BLANCHE. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. KING JOHN. Cousin, go draw our puissance together. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020346 | [_Exit Bastard._] France, I am burnd up with inflaming wrath; A rage whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest-valud blood, of France. KING PHILIP. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire. Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. KING | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020347 | JOHN. No more than he that threats. To arms lets hie! [_Exeunt severally._] SCENE II. The same. Plains near Angiers Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Bastard with Austrias head. BASTARD. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; Some airy devil hovers in the sky And pours down mischief. Austrias head lie there, While Philip breathes. Enter King John, Arthur | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020348 | and Hubert. KING JOHN. Hubert, keep this boy.Philip, make up. My mother is assailed in our tent, And taen, I fear. BASTARD. My lord, I rescud her; Her highness is in safety, fear you not. But on, my liege; for very little pains Will bring this labour to an happy end. [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. The same. Alarums, Excursions, Retreat. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020349 | King John, Eleanor, Arthur, the Bastard, Hubert and Lords. KING JOHN. [_To Eleanor_] So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind So strongly guarded. [_To Arthur_] Cousin, look not sad. Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will As dear be to thee as thy father was. ARTHUR. O, this will make my mother die with grief! KING JOHN. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020350 | [_To the Bastard_] Cousin, away for England! Haste before, And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; imprisond angels Set at liberty. The fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon. Use our commission in his utmost force. BASTARD. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back When gold and silver | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020351 | becks me to come on. I leave your highness. Grandam, I will pray, If ever I remember to be holy, For your fair safety; so, I kiss your hand. QUEEN ELEANOR. Farewell, gentle cousin. KING JOHN. Coz, farewell. [_Exit Bastard._] QUEEN ELEANOR. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. [_She takes Arthur aside._] KING JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020352 | gentle Hubert, We owe thee much! Within this wall of flesh There is a soul counts thee her creditor, And with advantage means to pay thy love. And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better tune. By | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020353 | heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamd To say what good respect I have of thee. HUBERT. I am much bounden to your majesty. KING JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt have; and creep time neer so slow, Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. I had a thing to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020354 | say, but let it go. The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton and too full of gauds To give me audience. If the midnight bell Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, Sound on into the drowsy race of night; If this same were a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020355 | churchyard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, Had bakd thy blood and made it heavy, thick, Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, Making that idiot, laughter, keep mens eyes And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, A passion hateful to my purposes; Or if that thou couldst | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020356 | see me without eyes, Hear me without thine ears, and make reply Without a tongue, using conceit alone, Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words; Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. But, ah, I will not! Yet I love thee well; And, by my troth, I think thou lovst me | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020357 | well. HUBERT. So well that what you bid me undertake, Though that my death were adjunct to my act, By heaven, I would do it. KING JOHN. Do not I know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy. Ill tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way; And wheresoeer | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020358 | this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? Thou art his keeper. HUBERT. And Ill keep him so That he shall not offend your majesty. KING JOHN. Death. HUBERT. My lord? KING JOHN. A grave. HUBERT. He shall not live. KING JOHN. Enough. I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee. Well, Ill | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020359 | not say what I intend for thee. Remember. Madam, fare you well. Ill send those powers oer to your majesty. QUEEN ELEANOR. My blessing go with thee! KING JOHN. For England, cousin, go. Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. The same. The French Kings tent. Enter King | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020360 | Philip, Louis, Pandulph and Attendants. KING PHILIP. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood A whole armado of convicted sail Is scattered and disjoind from fellowship. PANDULPH. Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well. KING PHILIP. What can go well, when we have run so ill. Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur taen prisoner? Divers | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020361 | dear friends slain? And bloody England into England gone, Oerbearing interruption, spite of France? LOUIS. What he hath won, that hath he fortified. So hot a speed with such advice disposd, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example. Who hath read or heard Of any kindred action like to this? KING PHILIP. Well could I bear | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020362 | 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 th eternal spirit, against her will, In the vile prison of afflicted breath. I prithee, lady, go away with me. CONSTANCE. Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace! KING PHILIP. Patience, good | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020363 | lady! Comfort, gentle Constance! CONSTANCE. 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 detestable bones And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020364 | 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 smilst, And buss thee as thy wife. Miserys love, O, come to me! KING PHILIP. O fair affliction, peace! CONSTANCE. No, no, I will not, having breath | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020365 | to cry. O, that my tongue were in the thunders mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world; And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy Which cannot hear a ladys feeble voice, Which scorns a modern invocation. PANDULPH. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow. CONSTANCE. Thou art not holy to belie me so. I am not mad. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020366 | This hair I tear is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geoffreys 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020367 | be canonizd, cardinal; For, being not mad but sensible of grief, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliverd 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020368 | The different plague of each calamity. KING PHILIP. Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs! Where but by a chance a silver drop hath falln, Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief, Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, Sticking together in calamity. CONSTANCE. To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020369 | England, if you will. KING PHILIP. Bind up your hairs. CONSTANCE. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud, O that these hands could so redeem my son, As they have given these hairs their liberty! But now I envy at their liberty, And will again commit them to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020370 | their bonds, Because my poor child is a prisoner. And, father cardinal, I have heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heaven. If that be true, I shall see my boy again; For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020371 | creature born. But now will canker sorrow eat my bud And chase the native beauty from his cheek, And he will look as hollow as a ghost, As dim and meagre as an agues fit, And so hell die; and, rising so again, When I shall meet him in the court of heaven I shall not know him. Therefore never, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020372 | never Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. PANDULPH. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. CONSTANCE. He talks to me that never had a son. KING PHILIP. You are as fond of grief as of your child. CONSTANCE. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020373 | 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, [_She unbinds | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020374 | her hair._] 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._] KING PHILIP. I fear some outrage, and Ill follow her. [_Exit._] LOUIS. Theres nothing in this world can make me joy. Life is as | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020375 | tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoild the sweet worlds taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. PANDULPH. 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020376 | show evil. What have you lost by losing of this day? LOUIS. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. PANDULPH. If you had won it, certainly you had. No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatning eye. Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost In this which he accounts | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020377 | so clearly won. Are not you grievd that Arthur is his prisoner? LOUIS. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. PANDULPH. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; For even the breath of what I mean to speak Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, Out | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020378 | of the path which shall directly lead Thy foot to Englands throne; and therefore mark. John hath seizd Arthur; and it cannot be That, whiles warm life plays in that infants veins, The misplacd John should entertain an hour, One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. A sceptre snatchd with an unruly hand Must be boisterously maintaind as gaind. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020379 | And he that stands upon a slippry place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. That John may stand, then, Arthur needs must fall. So be it, for it cannot be but so. LOUIS. But what shall I gain by young Arthurs fall? PANDULPH. You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife, May then make all | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020380 | the claim that Arthur did. LOUIS. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. PANDULPH. How green you are 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 borne shall cool the hearts | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020381 | Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal, That none so small advantage shall step forth To check his reign, but they will cherish it; No natural exhalation in the sky, No scope of nature, no distemperd day, No common wind, no customed event, But they will pluck away his natural cause And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020382 | Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. LOUIS. Maybe he will not touch young Arthurs life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. PANDULPH. O, sir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts Of all his people shall | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020383 | revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath Out of the bloody fingers ends of John. Methinks I see this hurly all on foot; And, O, what better matter breeds for you Than I have namd! The bastard Faulconbridge Is now in England ransacking the church, Offending charity. If but | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020384 | a dozen French Were there in arms, they would be as a call To train ten thousand English to their side, Or as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the King. Tis wonderful What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their souls are topful of offence. For | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020385 | England go. I will whet on the King. LOUIS. Strong reasons makes strong actions. Let us go. If you say ay, the King will not say no. [_Exeunt._] ACT IV SCENE I. Northampton. A Room in the Castle. Enter Hubert and two Executioners. HUBERT. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand Within the arras. When I strike my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020386 | foot Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth And bind the boy which you shall find with me Fast to the chair. Be heedful. Hence, and watch. FIRST EXECUTIONER. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. HUBERT. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you; look tot. [_Exeunt Executioners._] Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020387 | Arthur. ARTHUR. Good morrow, Hubert. HUBERT. Good morrow, little prince. ARTHUR. As little prince, having so great a title To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. HUBERT. Indeed, I have been merrier. ARTHUR. Mercy on me! Methinks nobody should be sad but I. Yet, I remember, when I was in France, Young gentlemen would be as sad | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020388 | as night, Only for wantonness. By my christendom, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, I should be as merry as the day is long; And so I would be here, but that I doubt My uncle practises more harm to me. He is afraid of me, and I of him. Is it my fault that I was | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020389 | Geoffreys son? No, indeed, ist not; and I would to heaven I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. HUBERT. [_Aside_.] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead. Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. ARTHUR. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today. In sooth, I would | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020390 | you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you. I warrant I love you more than you do me. HUBERT. [_Aside_.] His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur. [_Showing a paper._] [_Aside_.] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020391 | Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears. Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? ARTHUR. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? HUBERT. Young boy, I must. ARTHUR. And will you? HUBERT. And I will. ARTHUR. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020392 | I knit my handkercher about your brows, The best I had, a princess wrought it me, And I did never ask it you again; And with my hand at midnight held your head, And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, Still and anon cheerd up the heavy time, Saying What lack you? and Where lies your grief? Or What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020393 | good love may I perform for you? Many a poor mans son would have lien still And neer have spoke a loving word to you; But you at your sick service had a prince. Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, And call it cunning. Do, an if you will. If heaven be pleasd that you must use | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020394 | me ill, Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes that never did nor never shall So much as frown on you? HUBERT. I have sworn to do it. And with hot irons must I burn them out. ARTHUR. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020395 | Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears And quench his fiery indignation Even in the matter of mine innocence; Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harm mine eye. Are you more stubborn-hard than hammerd iron? An if an angel should have come to me And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020396 | I would not have believd him. No tongue but Huberts. HUBERT. [_Stamps_.] Come forth. Enter Executioners with cords, irons, &c. Do as I bid you do. ARTHUR. O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. HUBERT. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. ARTHUR. Alas, what | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020397 | need you be so boistrous-rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, Nor look upon the iron angerly. Thrust but these men away, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020398 | and Ill forgive you, Whatever torment you do put me to. HUBERT. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. FIRST EXECUTIONER. I am best pleasd to be from such a deed. [_Exeunt Executioners._] ARTHUR. Alas, I then have chid away my friend! He hath a stern look but a gentle heart. Let him come back, that his compassion may | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000020399 | Give life to yours. HUBERT. Come, boy, prepare yourself. ARTHUR. Is there no remedy? HUBERT. None, but to lose your eyes. ARTHUR. O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, Any annoyance in that precious sense! Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, Your vile intent must needs | 60 | gutenberg |
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