But now will canker sorrow eat my bud, And chase the native beauty from his cheek, 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 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: such a loss as I, I could give better comfort 9 than you do. — I will not keep this form upon my head, had you [Tearing off her head-dress. When there is such disorder in my wit. [Exit. K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. 9 [Exit. Lew. There's nothing in this world, can make me I could give better comfort -] This is a sentiment which great sorrow always dictates. Whoever cannot help himself casts his eyes on others for assistance, and often mistakes their inability for coldJOHNSON. ness. 1 There's nothing in this, &c.] The young prince feels his defeat with more sensibility than his father. Shame operates most strongly in the earlier years; and when can disgrace be less welcome than when a man is going to his bride? JOHNSON. Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, † Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark. That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, Lew. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? +"sweet word's taste,”. Malone: who says that the sweet word is life. Pand. You, in the right of lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claim that Arthur did. Lew. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green are you, and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots; the times conspire with you: Lew. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life, But hold himself safe in his prisonment. Pand. 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 revolt from him, Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, Go with me to the king: 'Tis wonderful,' For England go: I will whet on the king. Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions: + Let us go: If you say, ay, the king will not say, no. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.—Northampton.2 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, 1 Attend. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: look to't.— [Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. Enter ARTHUR. Good morrow, little prince. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub. +"strange actions:"-MALONE. 2 Northampton.] The fact is, that Arthur was first confined at Falaise, and afterwards at Roüen, in Normandy, where he was put to death. Our author has deviated, in this particular, from the history, and brought king John's nephew to England; but there is no circumstance, either in the original play, or in this of Shakspeare, to point out the particular castle in which he is supposed to be confined. The castle of Northampton has been mentioned, in some modern editions, as the place, merely because, in the first Act, King John seems to have been in that town. In the old copy there is no where any notice of place. 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. Arth. Mercy on me! Methinks, nobody should be sad but I: Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? No, indeed, is't not; And I would to heaven, [Aside. Arth. Are you sick, Hubert? you look pale to-day: In sooth, I would you were a little sick; Hub. His words do take possession of my bosom.Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper.] How now, foolish rheum ! Turning dispiteous torture out of door! Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears.- [Aside. Arth. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? Hub. Young boy, I must. Arth. Hub. And will you? And I will. Arth. Have you the heart? When your head did but |