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Conft. Grief fills the room up of my absent child :
Lyes in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all bis 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 lols as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,

[Tearing off her head-cloaths.
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 forrow's cure! [Exit.
K. Pbilip. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.

[Exit, Lewis. There's nothing in this world can make me

joy;
Life is as tedious as a twice-told Tale,
Vexing the dyll ear of a drowsie man,
A bitter lhame hath spoilt the sweet world's taste,
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Ey'n in the instant of repair and health,
The Fit is strongest: evils that take leave,
On their departure, most of all thew evil.
What have you lost, by losing of this day?

Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.

Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had.
No, no; when fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threat’ning eye.
'Tis strange to think how much King John hath loft
In this, which he accounts so clearly won.
Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his Prisoner?

Lewis. 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 ev'n the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each duft, each straw, each little rub,
Qut of the path which thall directly lead

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Thy foot to England's Throne: and therefore mark.
John hach seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be
That whilft warm life plays in that Infant's veins,
The misplac'd John Thould entertain an hour,
A minute, nay, one quiet breath, of Rest.
A scepter, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boist'rously maintain'd, as gain'd.
And he, that stands upon a Nipp’ry 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.

Lewis. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's Fall?

Pand. You, in the Right of lady Blanch your Wife, May then make all the Claim that Arthur did.

Lewis. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old

world?
Yohn 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 no lo small advantage shall step forth
To check his Reign, but they will cherish it.
No nat'ral exhalation in the sky,
No scape of nature, no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away its narral cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, and presages, tongues of heav'n
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon Jobn.
Lewis. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's

life But hold himself safe in his prisonment.

Pand. O Şir, when he shall hear of your approach, If that young Arthur be not gone already, Ev'n at this news he dies : and then the hearts Of all his people shall revolt from him, And kiss the lips of unacquainted Change ; And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath,

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Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot;
And 0, what better matter breeds for you
Than I have nam'd! - The bastard Faulconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the Church,
Offending Charity. If but twelve French
Were there in arms, they would be as a Call
To train ten thousand English to their lide;
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. Noble Dauphin;
Go with me to the King: 'tis wonderful
What may be wrought out of their discontent.
Now that their Souls are top-full of offence,
For England go; I will whet on the King.

Lewis. Strong reason makes strong actions : let us go; If you say ay, the King will not say no. [Exeunt.

А СТ IV.
SCENE changes to ENGLAND.

A Prison.

Enter Hubert and Executioner.

H

HUBERT
EAT me these irons hot, and, look, thou stand

Within the Arras; when I ftrike 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.

Exe. 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.

Enter

Enter Arthur
Arth. Good morrow, Hubert,
Hub. Good morrow, little Prince.

Arth. As little Prince (having so great a Title
To be more Prince) as may be. You are fad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Arth. Mercy on me!
Methinks, no body should be sad but l;
Yet I remember when I was in France,
Young Gentlemen would be as sad as night,
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom,
So were I out of prison, and kept sheep,
I should be 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 Geffrey's fon?
Indeed, it is not; and I would to heav'n,
I were your son, fo you would love me, Hubert.

Hub. If I talk to him, with his innocent Prate
He will awake my mercy, which lyes deads
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch. [Afde.

Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to day; In sooth, I wou'd, you were a little fick; That I might fit all night aod watch with you. Alas, I love you more than you do me.

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur - [Shewing a paper, How now, foolish rheum,

[Aside. Turping dil-piteous torture out of door! I must be brief, left refolution drop Out at mine eyes in tender womanith teams. . Can you not read it? is it not fair writ?

Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect.
Must you with irons burn out both minc eyes?

Hub. Young boy, I muft.
Arth. And will you?
Hub, And I will.

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Arth. Have you the heart? when your head did but

ake,
I knit my handkerchief 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 chear'd up the heavy time,
Saying, what lack you? and where lyes your grief?
Or what good love may I perform for you?
Many a poor man's son would havę lain still,
And ne'er have spoke a loying word to you i
But you at your fick service had a Prince.
Nay, you may think, my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, an if you will:
Įf heav'n be pleas’d that you must use me ill,
Why then, you myft - Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes, that never did, nor never fhall,
So much as frown on you.

Hub. I've sworn to do it;
And with hot irons must I burn them out.

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would do it.
The iron of ic self, tha’ heat red-hot,
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears,
And quench its fiery indignation,
Even in the matter of mine innocence :
Nay, after that, consume away in rųft,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn hard, than hammer'd iran?
Oh! if an Angel should have come to me,
And told me, Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believ'd him; no tongue, but Hubert's.
Hub. Comę forth; do, as I bid

[Stamps, and the men enter. Arth. O save me, Hubert, Tave me! my eyes are out, Ev'n with the fierce looks of these bloody men.

Hub. Give me the iron, I say, and bind bim here..

Arth. Alas, what need you be so boilt'rous-rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. For heav'n sake, Hubert, let me not be bound.

you do.

Nay,

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