Enter Conftance. Look, who comes here? a grave unto a soul, Conf. Lo, now, now fee the iffue of your peace. Conft. No, I defy all counfel, and redrefs, And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows; K. Philip. O fair affliction, peace. Conft. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry; Which cannot hear a Lady's feeble voice, Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow. 7 Modern invocation. ] It is hard to fay what Shakespeare means by modern: is it not oppofed to ancient. In All's well, that ends well, fpeaking of a girl in contempt, he uses this word, her modern grace. It apparently means fomething flight and inconfiderable. I am not mad; this hair I tear is mine: K. Philip. Bind up thofe treffes; O, what love I note In the fair multitude of those her hairs; Where but by chance a filver drop hath fall'n, Conft. To England, if you will. K. Philip. Bind up your hairs. Conft. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds, and cry'd aloud, O, that thefe hands could fo redeem my fon, And will again commit them to their bonds; It was neceflary that Confrance fhould be interrupted, becaufe a paflion fo violent cannot be born long. I with the fol lowing fpeeches had been equally happy; but they only serve to fhew, how difficult it is to maintain the pathetic long. That That we fhall fee and know our friends in heav'n For fince the birth of Cain, the first male-child, There was not fuch a gracious creature born. Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. K. Philip. You are as fond of grief, as of your Conft. 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; had you fuch a lofs 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 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! K. Philip. I fear fome outrage, and I'll follow her. bad you fuch a lofs as I, I could give better comfort -] This is a fentiment which great forrow always dictates. Who [Exit. [Exit. ever cannot help himself cafts his eyes on others for affiftance, and often mistakes their inability for coldness. SCENE SCENE VII. Lewis. 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 fpoilt the fweet world's tafte, Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner? There's nothing in this, &c.] The young Prince feels his defeat with more fenfibility than his father. Shame operates moft firongly in the earlier years; and when can difgrace be less welcome than when a man is going to his bride? Muft Must be as boist'rously maintain'd, as gain'd. Lewis. But what fhall 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 lofe it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old world! John lays you plots; the times confpire with you; This act, fo evilly born, fhall cool the hearts No 'scape of nature, no diftemper'd day, Lewis. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life; But hold himself fafe in his imprisonment. Pand. O Sir, when he fhall 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 fhall revolt from him, 2 True blood.] The blood of him that has the just claim. 3 No 'fcape of nature,-] The author very finely calls a monrous birth, an escape of nature. "As if it were produced while he was bufy elsewhere, or intent on fome other thing. But the Oxford Editor will have it, that Shakespeare wrote, No fhape of nature. WARBURTON. |