Alarums, Excursions. Enter the Bastard, with AUSTRIA'S Head.

Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot;

Some airy devil hovers in the sky,

And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, While Philip breathes.

Enter King JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT.

K. John. Hubert, keep this boy:-Philip, make up:

My mother is assailed in our tent,

And ta'en, I fear.

Bast.
My lord, I rescu'd her;
Her highness is in safety, fear you not:
But on, my liege; for very little pains
Will bring this labour to an happy end.

SCENE III.

The same.

[Exeunt

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter King JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the Bastard, HUBERT, and Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay

behind,

[TO ELINOR.

[To ARTHUR.

So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:

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. Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for
England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots; angels imprisoned
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon:

Use our commission in his utmost force.

Bast. Bell, book, and candle' shall not drive me back,

When gold and silver becks me to come on.
I leave your highness:-Grandam, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy,)

For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.

Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.
K. John.

Coz, farewell.

[Exit Bastard.

Eli. Come hither, little kinsinan; hark, a word.

[She takes ARTHUR aside. K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle

Hubert,

We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love:
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,—
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty.

' Bell, book, and candle-] In an account of the Romish curse given by Dr. Grey, it appears that three candles were extinguished, one by one, in different parts of the execration.

K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say

so yet:

8

But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, 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,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick;
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;)

Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I'd do't.

K. John.

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

9

-full of gawds,] Gawds are any showy ornaments.

using conceit alone,] Conceit here, as in many other places, signifies conception, thought.

And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: Dost thou understand me?

Thou art his keeper.

Hub.

And I will keep him so,

That he shall not offend your majesty.

K. John. Death.

I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember.Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!

K. John.

For England, cousin: Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With all true duty.—On toward Calais, ho!

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The same. The French King's Tent.

Enter King PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and Attendants.

K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, A whole armado of convicted sail2

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.

1 Remember.] This is one of the scenes to which may be promised a lasting commendation. Art could add little to its perfection; no change in dramatick taste can injure it; and time itself can subtract nothing from its beauties.

2- of convicted sail-] Overpowered, baffled, destroyed.

K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run

so ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?

Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friends slain?
And bloody England into England gone,
O'erbearing interruption, spite of France?

Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,

Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this?

K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,

So we could find some pattern of our shame.

Enter CONSTANCE.

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:-
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.

Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your peace!

K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance!

3

Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:-O amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy détestable bones;
And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows;

And ring these fingers with thy household worms;
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,

No, I defy, &c.] To defy anciently signified to refuse.