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up with.

1(1.2). Hubert, Hubert de Burgh was 8 (1.12). Bounden, obliged, beholden,

nephew to one of the earliest (Old Eng. bindan, to bind. Norman settlers in Ireland, and 9 (l. 19). Gawds, ornaments, worth. here it was that John most pro- less' jewellery (Latin gaudium, bably became acquainted with joy ; Old Eng. gaud; whence we him when governor of that coun- have gavdy, showy). try. Hubert was a trusted coun- 10 (. 20). Give me audience. Allow ciilor of Jobn's, and held many me to speak of such things now high offices under young King

or listen to me. Henry III., but at last he was 11 (l. 24). Possessed, entirely taken thrown as a prisoner by the king into the Tower, where he died in 12 (1. 25). Melancholy, a gloomy state 1243.

of mind, a depressed habit. From 2 (1. 3). We. Monarchs in speaking Greek, melan, black; and cholé,

of themselves use the plural number.

13 (1. 26). Baked thy blood, Wardened 3 (l. 3). Wall of flesh, the body.

and dried it. 4 (l. 4). Creditor, one to whom some- 14 (!. 33). Conceit, thought, fancy, thing is owing.

imagination. 6 (l. 5). Advantage, interest.

15 (1. 35). Brooded, used for brooding. 6 (l. 6). Voluntary, given by free will, Being as watchful as a hen over without force.

her brood. 7 (l. 11). What good respect, &c. How 16 (1. 38). My troth, my honour, my I respect thee.

17 (l. 40). Adjunct, consequence.


GRIEF OF CONSTANCE. ACT III. SCENE 4. Constance, mother to Prince Arthur, is overwhelmed with grief at

the capture of her son.
SCENE—The French King's tent.


Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not




Const. Thou art not holy, to belie me? so; I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ; My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's? wife; Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 5 I am not mad ;-I would, in sooth, I were ! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: Oh, if I could, what grief should I forget ! Preach some philosophy : to make me mad. If I were mad, I should forget my son : I am not mad ; too well, too well I feel The different plague of each calamity. K. Phi. Bind up those tresses.—Oh what

love I note In the fair multitude of these her hairs ! When but by chance a silver drop hath fallen, 15 Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends Do glue themselves in sociable grief, Like true, inseparable, faithful lovers, Sticking together in calamity.

Bind up your hairs. 20 Const. Yes, that I will ; and wherefore will

I do it? I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud, “Oh 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.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 ; 30








For since the birth of Cain, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker - sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek, 35
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 40
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.

Pand. You bold too heinous a respect of grief.
Const. He talks to me that never had a son.
K. Phi. You areas fond of grief as of yourchild.
Const. Grief fills the room up of


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. - 50 Fare you well : had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.I will not keep this form upon my head,

[Tearing it off When there is such disorder in my wit. - O Lord I my boy, my Arthur, my fair son ! 55 My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure !

[Exit. K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.


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1 (l. 2). Belio mo, saying that of me worm or caterpillar does the buds which is untrue.

of trees, % (1.4). Geffrey, the third son of 6 (l. 84). My bud, my boy, Prince

Henry II. was King John's elder Arthur. brother.

7 (1. 37). Meagro, loan, siokly-looking. 8 (l. 9). Philosophy, knowledge, wis. 8 (L. 43). That never, &o., refers to the dom.

fact of the Cardinal never having 4 (1. 32). Suspire, breathe.

had a son. Bi. 34). Oanker, corroding, causing 9 (l. 49). Vacant garments, the clothos

to rust, or eat away as canker. be wore.

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Arthur, having been sent to England, is imprisoned in Northampton

Castle. (Historically this is not true. Arthur was first sent to
Falaise, then to Rouen ; but Shakespeare's arrangement of the
play requires the scene to be laid in England.)
SCENE.—A room in Northampton Castle.

Enter Hubert, and two Attendants.
Hub. Heat me these irons hot ; and, look

thou stand Within the arras : 1 when I strike


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 1st Attend. I hope your warrant o will bear

out the deed. Hub. Uncleanly scruples !* Fear not you :

look to't. Exeunt Attendants. Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you.

Enter ARTHUR. Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. Hub.

Good morrow, little prince. 10









Arth. As little prince® (having so great a

To be more prince) as may be.—You are sad.

Hub. Indeed, I have been merrier.

Mercy 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,
Only for wantonness. By my christendom,o
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 o more harm to me :
He is afraid of me, and I of him.
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son?
No, indeed, is't not; and I would, in sooth,
I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.
Hub. [Aside] If I talk to him, with his in-

nocent prate He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch." Arth. Are you sick, Hubert ? you look pale

to-day : In sooth,12 I would you were a little sick, That I might sit all night and watch with you : I warrant I love you more than you Hub. [Aside] His words do take possession

of my bosom. Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a paper: 35

[Aside] How now, foolish rheum! Turning dispiteous 4 torture out of door! I must be brief, lest resolution drop




do me.



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