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To him that did but yesterday suspire',
There was not fuch a gracious creature born".
But now will canker forrow eat my bud,
And chafe the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghoft;
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 heaven
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. Phil. You are as fond of grief, as your child.
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;

I

as of

but yesterday fufpire,] To fufpire in Shakespeare, I believe, only means to breathe. So, in K. Henry IV. P. II: "Did he fufpire, that light and weightless down "Perforce muft move.' STEEVENS.

2

a gracious creature born.] Gracious, in this inftance, as in fome others, fignifies graceful. So, in Albion's Triumph, a mafque, 1631:

66

on which (the freeze) were feftoons of feveral fruits, in their natural colours, on which, in gracious poftures, lay children fleeping."

Again, in the fame piece :

66

they stood about him, not in fet ranks, but in feveral gracious poftures."

Again, in the Malecontent, 1604:

"The moft exquifite, &c. that ever made an old lady gratious by torch-light." STEEVENS.

3 Grief fills the room up of my abfent child,]
"Perfruitur lachrymis et amat pro conjuge luctum."

Lucan, lib. ix.

A French poet, Maynard, has the fame thought:
"Mon deuil me plaît et me doit toujours plaire,
"Il me tient lieu de celle que je plains." MALONE.

Then,

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-drefs. 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 forrows' cure!

[Exit.

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

[Exit.

me joy:

Lewis. There's nothing in this world, can make

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,

Vexing the dull ear of a drowfy man;

And bitter fhame hath spoil'd the fweet world's tafte,
That it yields nought,, but fhame, and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a ftrong disease,
Even in the inftant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all fhew evil :
What have you loft by lofing of this day?
Lewis. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you had won it, certainly, you had.
No, no: when fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
'Tis ftrange, to think how much king John hath loft
In this which he accounts fo clearly won :
Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prifoner?
Lewis. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him.

had you fuch a lofs as I,

I could give better comfort

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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. JOHNSON.

There's nothing in this &c.] The young prince feels his defeat with more fenfibility than his father. Shame operates most strongly in the earlier years; and when can difgrace be less welcome than when a man is going to his bride? JOHNSON.

Pand

Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.
Now hear me speak, with a prophetic fpirit;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each duft, each straw, each little rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead .

Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, mark.
John hath feiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be,.
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The mifplac'd John fhould entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest :
A fcepter, fnatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd:
And he, that stands upon a flippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to ftay him up:
That John may ftand, then Arthur needs muft fall;
So be it, for it cannot be but fo.

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 lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. Pand. How green you are, and fresh in this old world!

6

John lays you plots; the times confpire with you:
For he, that fteeps his fafety in true blood,
Shall find but bloody fafety, and untrue.
This act, fo evilly born, fhall cool the hearts
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal;
That none fo fmall advantage shall step forth,
To check his reign, but they will cherish it :
No nátural exhalation in the sky,

* No scape of nature, no diftemper'd day,

6 true blood,] The blood of him that has the just claim.

JOHNSON. "No scape of nature,-] The author very finely calls a monftrous birth, an efcape of nature. As if it were produced while fhe was bufy elsewhere, or intent on fome other thing. But the Oxford editor will have it, that Shakespeare wrote:

WARBURTON.

No fhape of nature.
The old copy reads:-No scope, &c. STEEVENS.

No

No common wind, no cuftomed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause,
And call them meteors, prodigies, and figns,
Abortives, prefages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.

Lewis. May be, he will not touch young Arthur's life,

But hold himself safe in his prifonment.

Pand. O, fir, 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 fhall revolt from him, And kifs the lips of unacquainted change; And pick ftrong matter of revolt, and wrath, Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. Methinks, I fee this hurly all on foot; And, O, what better matter breeds for you, Than I have nam'd!-The baftard Faulconbridge Is now in England, ranfacking 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 fide; 8 Or, as a little fnow, 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 fouls are top-full of offence, For England go; I will whet on the king.

Lewis. Strong reafons make ftrong actions: Let

us go;

If you say, ay, the king will not fay, no. [Exeunt.

8 Or, as a little fnow,-] Bacon, in his Hiftory of Henry VII. fpeaking of Simnel's march, obferves, that "their Snow-ball did not gather as it went." JOHNSON.

9

ftrong actions:-] The oldeft copy reads :-ftrange actions: the folio 1632-frong. STEEVENS.

VOL. V.

G

ACT

ACT IV. SCENE L.

England.

Northampton. A room in the castle.

Enter Hubert, and executioners.

Hub. Heat me these irons hot; and, look thou stand

Within the arras when I ftrike my foot
Upon the bofom of the ground, rush forth;
And bind the boy, which you fhall find with me,
Faft to the chair: be heedful: hence, and watch.
Exec. I hope, your warrant will bear out the deed.
Hub. Uncleanly fcruples! Fear not you: look to't.-
[Exeunt executioners.

Young lad, come forth; I have to fay with you.

Enter Arthur.

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert.

Hub. Good morrow, little prince.

Arth. As little prince (having fo great a title To be more prince) as may be.-You are fad. Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Arth. Mercy on me!

Methinks, no body fhould be fad, but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as fad as night,

Only

Young gentlemen &c.] It fhould feem that this affectation had found its way into England, as it is ridiculed by Ben Jonfon in the character of Maiter Stephen in Every Man in his Humour. Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Queen of Corinth, Onos fays:

"Come let's be melancholy."

Again, in Lylly's Midas, 1592: "Melancholy! is melancholy a word for a barber's mouth? Thou should'ft fay, heavy, dull, and doltish

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