(4) Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; If this fame were a church-yard where we stand, And thou poffeffed with a thousand

Or if that furly fpirit Melancholy

wrongs;

Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot laughter keep mens' eyes,
And ftrain their cheeks to idle merriment ;
(A paffion hateful to my purposes)
Or if thou could'ft fee me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, ufing conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful found of words;
Then, in defpight of broad-ey'd watchful day,
I would into thy bofom 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,
Tho' that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heav'n, I'd do't.

eye

K. John. Do not I know, thou would'ft?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend;
He is a very ferpent in my way,

And, wherefoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Doft thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper..

Hub. And I'll keep him fo,

That he fhall not offend your Majefty.

K. John. Death.

Hub. My Lord?

K. John. A grave.

(4) Sound ON unto the drowfie race of night;] We should read,

Sound ONE

WARBURTON.

I fhould fuppofe found on (which is the reading of the folio) to be right. The meaning feems to be this; if the midnight bell, by repeated frokes, was to baften orvay the race of beings that are busy at that bour, or quicken night itself in its progrefs, the morning bell (that is the bell that strikes one) could never properly be made the agent, for the bell has ceafed to be in the fervice of night when it proclaims the arrival of day. Sound on has a peculiar propriety, because by the repetition of the ftrokes at twelve, it gives a much more forcible warning than when it only ftrikes one. Mr. STEEVENS.

Hub.

Doth want example; who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this ?

K. Philip. Well could I bear that England had this praife,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Enter Conftance.

Look, who comes here? a grave unto a foul,
Holding th' eternal fpirit 'gainst her will
In the vile prison of afflicted breath;

I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.

Conft. Lo, now, now fee the iffue of your peace.
K. Philip. Patience, good Lady; comfort, gentle
Confiance.

Conft. No, I defy all counfel, and redress,
But that, which ends all counfel, true redress,
Death, death; oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous ftench, found rottennefs,
Arife forth from thy couch of lafting night,
Thou hate and terror to profperity,
And I will kifs thy deteftable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;
And ring thefe fingers with thy houfhold worms:
And ftop this gap of breath with fulfome duft,
And be a carrion monfter, like thyself:
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou fmil'ft,
And kifs thee as thy wife; mifery's love,
O come to me!

K. Philip. O fair affliction, peace.

Conft. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry;
O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth,
Then with a paffion I would fhake the world,
And rouze from fleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a Lady's feeble voice,
And fcorns a (7) modern invocation.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow.
Conft. Thou art not holy to belie me fo;

I tear is mine:

I am not mad; this hair I tea

(7) Modern invocation.] It is hard to fay what Shakespeare means by modern: it is not oppofed to ancient. In All's well that ends well, fpeaking of a girl in contempt, he uses this word ber modern grace. It apparently means fomething flight and inconfiderable.

The Revifal thinks it evident that for modern invocation fhould be read mother's invocation. I think modern is ufed as it is here in other paffages of Shakespeare,

My

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 fo he'll die: and, rifing fo again,

When I fhall meet him in the court of heav'n
I fhall not know him; therefore never, never,
Muft I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
Conft. He talks to me that never had a fon..

K. Philip. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. Conf. Grief fills the room up of my abfent 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 reafon to be fond of grief. Fare you well; (9) had you fuch a lofs as I, I could give better comfort than you do. I will not keep this form upon my head,

nes [Tearing off ber bead cloaths. When there is fuch diforder in my wit: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair fon! My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!

My widow-comfort, and my forrow's cure!

[Exit.

K. Philip. I fear fome outrage, and I'll follow her.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.

Lewis. (1) There's nothing in this world can make

me joy;

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.

A bitter fhame hath spoilt the sweet world's tafte,
That it yields nought but fhame and bitterness.

11

(9)- bad you fuch a lofs as 1, I could give better comfort ~] This is a fentiment which great forrow always dictates. Whoever cannot help himself cafts his eyes on others for affistance, and often mistakes their inability for coldnefs.

(1) There's nothing in this, &c.] The young Prince feels his de feat with more fenfibility than his father. Shame operates molt ftrongly in the earlier years; and when can difgrace be lefs welcome than when a man is going to his bride?

Pand