But on, my Liege; for very little pains
Will bring this labour to an happy end.

[Exeunt.

Alarms, Excurfions, Retreat. Re-enter King John, Elinor, Arthur, Faulconbridge, Hubert, and Lords.

K. John. So fhall it be; your Grace shall stay behind
So ftrongly guarded: Coufin, look not fad, [To Arthur.
Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will
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,

And, ere our coming, fee thou fhake the bags
Of hoarding Abbots; their imprison'd angels
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace (13)
Muft by the hungry war be fed upon.

Use our commiffion in its utmost force.

[To Faulc.

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 safety; so I kifs your hand.
Eli. Farewel, my gentle coufin.

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:

(13)

the fat Ribs of Peace

Muft by the hungry now be fed upon.] This Word now feems a very idle Term here, and conveys no fatisfactory Idea. An Antithefis, and Oppofition of Terms, fo perpetual with our Author, requires;

Must 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.

Mr. Warburton.

And,

And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say-
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.
Hub. I am much bounden to your Majesty

K. John. Good friend; thou haft no caufe to fay le
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 say- -but, let it

go:

The fun is in the heav'n, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleafures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me audience. If the midnight bell (14)
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound one unto the drowfie race of night;
If this fame were a church-yard where we ftand,
And thou poffeffed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that furly fpirit Melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy thick,
Which elfe 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 could'ft 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;

(14)

If the mid-night Bell

Did with his iron Tongue, and brazen Mouth,

Sound on into the drowzy race of Night;] I do not think, that found on gives here that Idea of Solemnity and Horror, which, 'tis plain, our Poet intended to imprefs by this fine Defcription; and which my Emendation conveys. i. e. If it were the ftill part of the Night, or One of the Clock in the Morning, when the Sound of the Bell ftrikes upon the Ear with moft Awe and Terror. And it is very ufual with our ShakeSpeare in other Paffages to exprefs the Horror of a Midnight Bell.

Then,

Then, in defpight of broad-ey'd watchful day,
I would into thy bofom pour my thoughts:
-yet I love thee well;

But ah, I will not

And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'it 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.

eye

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

And, wherefoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,

He lyes before me.

Thou art his keeper.

Doft thou understand me?

Hub. And I'll keep him fo,

That he shall 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. Hubert, 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 those pow'rs o'er to your Majefty.
Eli. My bleffing go with thee!

K. John. For England, coufin, ga.

Hubert fhall be your man, t'attend on you

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

SCENE changes to the French Court.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpho, and Attendants.

O,

K. Philip. So, by a roaring tempeft on the flood, whole Armado of collected fail

A

Is fcatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well. K. Philip. What can go well, when we have run fo ill? Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers loft?

Arthur

Arthur ta'en Pris'ner? diverse dear friends Alain ♪
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 in fo fierce a caufe,
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 some pattern of our shame.

Enter Conftance.

Look, who comes here? a grave unto a foul,
Holding th' eternal spirit 'gainst her will
In the vile prifon 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 counsel, and redress,
But that, which ends all counfel, true redress,
Death, death; oh amiable, lovely death!
Thou odoriferous ftench, found rottennefs,
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 houshold worms;
And ftop this gap of breath with fulsom dust,
And be a carrion monster, like thy felf;
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'ft,
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 passion I would shake the world, And rouze from fleep that fell anatomy, Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,

And fcorns a modern invocation.

Pand

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not forrow.
Conft. Thou art not holy to belie me fo;
I am not mad; this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Confiance, 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 fhould forget myself.
Oh, if I could, what grief fhould I forget!
Preach some philofophy to make me mad,
And thou fhalt 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 those 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.

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 these hands could fo redeem my fon,
As they have giv'n 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 prifoner,

And, father Cardinal, I have heard you fay,
That we shall see and know our friends in heav'n;
If that be, I shall see my boy again.

For fince the birth of Cain, the first male-child,
To him that did but yesterday fufpire,

There was not fuch a gracious creature born.

But