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K. John. Cousin, away for England; hafte before :
[To Faulconbridge. And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels Set at liberty : "the fat ribs of peace Must " by the hungry, now be fed upon : Use our commission in his utmost force.
Faulç. • 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, gentle cousin.
K. John. Coz, farewell.
[Exit Fault. Eli. Come hither, little kinsman ; hark, a word.
[Taking him to one side of the stage. 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 cherish'd. 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 alham'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 now, Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
The fat ribs of pfase)—the ecclefiaftical sevenues. by tbe bungry,]-the hungry troops.
Bell book and candle)-alluding to the Romish curse, "pronounced by the priest during maís; the book open, candles lighted, and facring
I had a thing to say,—But let it
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 aduience :-If the midnight bell
9 Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound on 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 ideót, Jaughter, '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 despight of broad-ey'd' 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 would do it.
K. John. Do not I know, thou would'st?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way ;
R of gawds, to give me]-howy appearances, for thee to give me. 9 Had with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sounden unia, &c.-sounded unto, &c.- Sound one. I trickling.
keep]-abide in, display itself there. i adjuna)--annexed, united. POEMS, 481. an
And, wherefoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me : Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
Hub. And I'll keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death.
Hub. My lord ?
K. Jobn. A grave.
Hub. He shall not live.
K. John. Enough.
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 towards Calais, ho!
Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpb, and Attendants.
K. Pbil. So, by a roaring tempeft on the flood,
A whole " armado of collected fail
Is scatter'd, and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pand. Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well.
K, Pbil. 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 Nain? And bloody England into England gone, O’er-bearing interruption, spite of France ?
armado of colle&ted fail]-a fleet of war.convidled-fubdued. conccd.
Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd :
So hot a speed with such advice dispos’d,
Such temperate order win fo fierce a cause,
Doth want example; Who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this?
K. Phil. 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 prythee, lady, go away with me.
Conft. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace
K. Phil. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Con-
Const. No, 'I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death :-Oh amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lafting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy deteftable bones ;
put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy houshold worms;
And stop ? this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monfter like thyself:
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st,
in fo fierce a cause,]-in a cause fo precipitately conducted- fieru
course-conflict, course in the lists. * breaib:]-mortality,
y defy]-reject with difdain.
• All studies here I folemnly defy."
HENRY IV. Part I. A& I, S. 3. Het. ? this gap of breatb]-my mouth.
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
Oh, come to me!
K. Pbil. Oh fair ami&tion, peace.
Conft. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry :Oh, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Then with a passion would I shake the world; And rouze from Neep that fell a anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, Which fcorns a modern invocation,
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow.
Const. Thou art unholy to belie me fo;
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 loft :
I am not mad ;-I would to heaven, I were !
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
Oh, if I could, what grief should I forget !
Preach fome philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal i
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 ;
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he:
I am not mad ; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.
K. Pbil. Bind up those tresses : Oh, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs !
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,'
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;