William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (206 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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Lo, now, now see the issue of your peace!
KING PHILIP
Patience, good lady; comfort, gentle Constance.
CONSTANCE
No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress:
Death, Death, O amiable, lovely Death! 25
Thou odoriferous stench, sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones,
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, 30
And ring these fingers with thy household worms,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself.
Come grin on me, and I will think thou smil’st,
And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love, 35
O, come to me!
But that which ends all counsel, true redress:
Death, Death, O amiable, lovely Death! 25
Thou odoriferous stench, sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones,
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, 30
And ring these fingers with thy household worms,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself.
Come grin on me, and I will think thou smil’st,
And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love, 35
O, come to me!
KING PHILIP O fair affliction, peace I
CONSTANCE
No, no, I will not, having breath to cry.
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.
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.
PANDOLF
Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
CONSTANCE
Thou art not holy to belie me so.
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geoffrey’s wife;
Young Arthur is my son; and he is lost.
I am not mad; I would to God I were,
For then ’tis like I should forget myself.
O,if I could, what grief should I forget ! 50
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canonized, Cardinal.
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be delivered of these woes, 55
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. 60
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance; I was Geoffrey’s wife;
Young Arthur is my son; and he is lost.
I am not mad; I would to God I were,
For then ’tis like I should forget myself.
O,if I could, what grief should I forget ! 50
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canonized, Cardinal.
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be delivered of these woes, 55
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. 60
KING PHILIP
Bind up those tresses. O,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 glue themselves in sociable grief, 65
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
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 glue themselves in sociable grief, 65
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
CONSTANCE
To England, if you will.
KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs.
CONSTANCE
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. 75
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. 75
She binds up her hair
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, 80
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.
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, 80
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.
PANDOLF
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
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. 100
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. 100
⌈
She unbinds her hair
⌉
I will not keep this form upon my head
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, 104
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow’s cure! Exit
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, 104
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow’s cure! Exit
KING PHILIP
I fear some outrage, and I’ll follow her.
Exit
⌈
attended
⌉
Exit
⌈
attended
⌉
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
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;
And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet world’s taste,
That it yields naught but shame and bitterness. 111
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet world’s taste,
That it yields naught but shame and bitterness. 111
PANDOLF
Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil. 115
What have you lost by losing of this day?
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil. 115
What have you lost by losing of this day?
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
PANDOLF
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 lost
In this which he accounts so clearly won.
Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?
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 lost
In this which he accounts so clearly won.
Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
As heartily as he is glad he hath him.
PANDOLF
Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. 125
Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit,
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England’s throne. And therefore mark.
John hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be
That whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins
The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.
A sceptre snatched with an unruly hand
Must be as boisterously maintained as gained;
And he that stands upon a slipp’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.
Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit,
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England’s throne. And therefore mark.
John hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be
That whiles warm life plays in that infant’s veins
The misplaced John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.
A sceptre snatched with an unruly hand
Must be as boisterously maintained as gained;
And he that stands upon a slipp’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.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s fall?
PANDOLF
You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
PANDOLF
How green you are, and fresh in this old world 145
John 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 vilely born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal,
That none so small advantage shall step forth
To check his reign but they will cherish it;
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No scope of nature, no distempered day,
No common wind, no customèd event, 155
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
John 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 vilely born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal,
That none so small advantage shall step forth
To check his reign but they will cherish it;
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No scope of nature, no distempered day,
No common wind, no customèd event, 155
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
Maybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
PANDOLF
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,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change,
And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John.
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot,
And O, what better matter breeds for you 170
Than I have named! The Bastard Falconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the Church,
Offending charity. If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side, 175
Or as a little snow tumbled about
Anon becomes a mountain. O 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. 180
For England, go! I will whet on the King.
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,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change,
And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John.
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot,
And O, what better matter breeds for you 170
Than I have named! The Bastard Falconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the Church,
Offending charity. If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side, 175
Or as a little snow tumbled about
Anon becomes a mountain. O 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. 180
For England, go! I will whet on the King.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
Strong reasons make strange actions. Let us go.
If you say ay, the King will not say no. Exeunt
4.1If you say ay, the King will not say no. Exeunt
Enter Hubert, and Executioners with a rope and irons
HUBERT
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! 5
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! 5
EXECUTIONER
I hope your warrant will bear out the deed.
HUBERT
Uncleanly scruples: fear not you. Look to’t!
Young lad, come forth, I have to say with you.
⌈
The Executioners withdraw behind the arras
⌉
Enter Arthur Duke of Brittaine
ARTHUR
Good morrow, Hubert.
Good morrow, little Prince.
ARTHUR
As little prince, having so great a title 10
To be more prince, as may be. You are sad.
To be more prince, as may be. You are sad.
HUBERT
Indeed I have been merrier.
ARTHURMercy 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 15
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me. 20
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?
No, indeed is’t not, and I would to God
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Yet I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night 15
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,
So I were out of prison and kept sheep,
I should be as merry as the day is long;
And so I would be here, but that I doubt
My uncle practises more harm to me. 20
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?
No, indeed is’t not, and I would to God
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
HUBERT (
aside
)
aside
)
If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 25
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead;
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead;
Therefore I will be sudden, and dispatch.
ARTHUR
Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today.
In sooth, I would you were a little sick,
That I might sit all night and watch with you. 30
I warrant I love you more than you do me.
In sooth, I would you were a little sick,
That I might sit all night and watch with you. 30
I warrant I love you more than you do me.
HUBERT(
aside
)
aside
)
His words do take possession of my bosom.
He shows Arthur a paper
Read here, young Arthur. (Aside) How now: foolish
rheum,
Turning dispiteous torture out of door?
I must be brief, lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.
(To Arthur) Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?
rheum,
Turning dispiteous torture out of door?
I must be brief, lest resolution drop
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.
(To Arthur) Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ?
ARTHUR
Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect.
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
HUBERT
Young boy, I must.
ARTHUR And will you?
HUBERTAnd I will. 40
ARTHUR
Have you the heart? When your head did but ache
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 cheered up the heavy time,
Saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief?’
Or ‘What good love may I perform for you?’
Many a poor man’s son would have lain still
And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you,
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, an if you will.
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, 55
Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes,
These eyes that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?
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 cheered up the heavy time,
Saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief?’
Or ‘What good love may I perform for you?’
Many a poor man’s son would have lain still
And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you,
But you at your sick service had a prince.
Nay, you may think my love was crafty love,
And call it cunning. Do, an if you will.
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill, 55
Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes,
These eyes that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you?
HUBERTI have sworn to do it,
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
ARTHUR
Ah, none but in this iron age would do it. 60
The iron of itself, though heat red hot,
Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears,
And quench his fiery indignation
Even in the matter of mine innocence;
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
An if an angel should have come to me
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed him; no tongue but
Hubert’s.
The iron of itself, though heat red hot,
Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears,
And quench his fiery indignation
Even in the matter of mine innocence;
Nay, after that, consume away in rust,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye.
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
An if an angel should have come to me
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed him; no tongue but
Hubert’s.
Hubert stamps his foot
HUBERT
Come forth!
Do as I bid you do.
The Executioners come forth
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