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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 play'd.

Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune lies.

Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance together.-

France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath;
A rage, whose heat hath this condition,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,

The blood, and dearest valu'd blood, of France.

[Exit FAUL.

K. Phi. 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.

K. John. No more than he that threats.-To arms let's hie!


A battle ensues between the French and English forces, and Arthur is taken prisoner by King John.

SCENE.-Plains near Angiers.

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, FAULCONBRIDGE, HUBERT, and Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind,

So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:

Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will



As dear be to thee as thy father was.

Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.

K. John. Cousin,-[to FAULCONBRIDGE.]-away for England.

haste before :

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags

Of hoarding abbots; imprison'd angels
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon:

Use our commission in its utmost force.

Faul. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,

When gold and silver 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.

Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.

K. John.

Coz, farewell.


Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word.

[She takes ARTHUR aside.

K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my 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 time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty.

K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet: But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so slow,

Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to 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 gawds,
To give me audience :-If the midnight bell
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick;
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;)

Or if that thou could'st 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 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 yen 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?
Thou art his keeper.


And I will keep him so,

That he shall not offend your majesty.

K. John. Death.

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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, go:

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you

With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho!

SCENE.-The French King's Tent.


Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and Attendants.

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.


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!

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!

Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,

Thou hate and terror to prosperity,

And I will kiss thy détestable bones;

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:—

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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 modern 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;
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
K. Phi. Bind up those tresses:
Sticking together in calamity.
Const. To England, if you will.
K. Phi.

Fossy!! Sr. Jouis

Bind up your hairs.
Const. 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 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 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 ague's fit;
And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven

I shall not know him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.

K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child.
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!
K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.




Arthur is conveyed to England, where he is imprisoned in Northampton Castle. Hubert is appointed his keeper, with instructions from King John to find some means, secretly, to deprive the young Prince of his life.

SCENE I.-Northampton. A Room in the Castle.

Enter HUBERT, and Two Attendants.

Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou stand
Within the arras: when I strike my 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.
1st Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: Look to't.

Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you."

[Exeunt Attendants.

Good morrow, little prince.

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.
Arth. As little prince (having so great a title
To be more prince) as may be. You are sad.
Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Mercy on me!

Methinks, nobody should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep,

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