As dear be to thee, as thy father was.
Arth. O this will make my mother die with grief.
K. John. Coufin away for England, hafte before,
[To Faulconbridge
And, ere our coming, fee thou fhake the bags
Of hoarding Abbots, their imprifon'd angels
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace 2
Muft by the hungry war be fed upon.

Ufe our commiffion in its utmost force. w

Faulc, Bell, book, and candle fhall not drive me back,

When gold and filver beck me to come on.

I leave your highnefs; grandam, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy)

For your fair fafety; fo I kifs your hand.
Eli. Farewel, my gentle cousin..

K. John. Coz, farewel

Eli. Come hither, little kinfman;

"

[Exit Faulc. hark, a word.'

[Taking him to one fide of the stage.

K. John. [to Hubert on the other fide.
Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a foul counts thee, her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love:
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to fay
But I will fit it with fome better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I'm almost asham'd
To fay what good refpect I have of thee.

6

the fat ribs of peace

Muft by the bungry now be fed upon.] The word wozu feems su idle term here. The antithefis, and oppofition of terms, fo perpe tual with our author, fhews we should read,

Muft by the hungry war be fed upon."

War, demanding a large expence, is very poetically faid to be hungry, and to prey on the wealth and fat of peace.

Hub.

Hub. I am much bounden to your Majefty."
K. John. Good friend, thou haft no caufe to fay fo

yet, But thou fhalt have-and creep time ne'er fo flow, Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good. • I had a thing to fay-but, let it go: The fun is in the heav'n, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds, • To give me audience. If the midnight bell • Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth 7 Sound one unto the drowfie race of night; "If this fame were a church-yard where we stand, And thou poffeffed with a thousand wrongs; Or if that furly fpirit Melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick, • Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, Making that ideot laughter keep mens' eyes, And ftrain their cheeks to idle merriment; (A paffion hateful to my purposes)

• Or if that thou couldst 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'ft 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.

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

7 Sound ON unto the drowfie race of night;] We fhould read,

Sound ONE

VOL. III.

Ff

And,

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

4

Hub. And I'll keep him fo,

That he fhall not offend your Majesty.

K. John. Death.

Hub. My lord?

K. John. A grave.

Hub. He fhall not live.

K. John. Enough.

I could be merry now. Habert, 'I love thee;
Well, I'll not fay what I intend for thee:
Remember:Madam, fare you well.

[Returning to the Queen.

I'll fend thofe pow'rs o'er to your Majefty.
Eli. My bleffing go with thee!

K. John. For England, coufin, go.

Hubert thall be your man, t'attend on you

With all true duty; on, toward Calais, ho! [Exeunt.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpho, and 'Attendants. K. Philip. So, by a roaring tempeft on the flood,

A whole Armado of collected fail Is fcatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

8 A whole Armado, &c,] This fimilitude, as little as it makes for the purpose in hand, was, I do not question, a very taking one when the play was first reprefented; which was a winter or two at moft, after the Spanish invafion in 1588. It was in reference likewife to that glorious period that Shakespear concludes his play is that triumphant manner.

Thus England never did, nor never shall Lye at the proud foot of a conqueror, &c. But the whole play abounds with touches relative to the then posture of affairs.

Pand.

Pand. Courage and comfort, all fhall yet go well. K. Philip. What can go well, when we have run fo ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers loft?

Arthur ta'en Pris'ner? diverfe dear friends flain?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'er-bearing interruption, fpite of France?
Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd:
So hot a speed with fuch advice difpos'd,
Such temp'rate order 9 in fo fierce a course,
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 praise,

So we could find fome pattern of our shame.

Enter Conftance.

Look, who comes here? a grave unto a foul,
Holding th' eternal fpirit 'gainft 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
Conftance.

Conft. No, I defie all counfel, and redress,
But that, which ends all counfel, true redrefs,
Death, death; oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous ftench, found rotténness,
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 stop this gap of breath with fulfome duft,
And be a carrion monfter, like thyself;

9

in fo fierce a CAUSE,] We fhould read COURSE, i. e. march. The Oxford Editor condefcends to this emendation.

Come, grin on me, and I will think thou-fmilft,
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 shake the world, And rouze from fleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, 131 And fcorns a modern invocation.

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow. Conf. Thou art not holy to belie me fo; I am not mad; this hair I tear is mine; My name is Conftance, I was Geffrey's wife: Young Arthur is my fon, 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 fhould I forget! Preach fome philofophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal. For, being not mad, but fenfible 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 fhould forget my fon, Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he; I am not mad; too well, too well I feel The diff'rent plague of each calamity.

K. Philip. Bind up thofe treffes; O, what love I

note

In the fair multitude of thofe her hairs;

Where but by chance a filver drop hath fall'n,
Ev'n to that drop ten thousand wiery friends
Do glew themselves in fociable grief;
Like true, infeparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity. a ul er sva
Conft. To England, if you will.

K. Philip.