Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon73 young boy: I’ll tell thee what, my friend,
He is a very serpent in my way,
And whereso’er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
HUBERT And I’ll keep him so78,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
KING JOHN Death.
HUBERT My lord?
KING JOHN A grave.
HUBERT He shall not live.
KING JOHN Enough.
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 powers88 o’er to your majesty.
ELINOR My blessing go with thee.
KING JOHN For England, cousin90, go.
Hubert shall be your man91, attend on you
With all true duty.— On toward Calais, ho!
Exeunt [Queen Elinor at one door, the rest at another]
Act 3 Scene 3
running scene 5
Enter King Philip, Lewis, Cardinal Pandulph [and] Attendants
KING PHILIP So by a roaring tempest on the flood1,
A whole armado of convicted2 sail
Is scattered and disjoined from fellowship3.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Courage and comfort: all shall yet go well.
KING PHILIP What can go well when we have run5 so ill?
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta’en prisoner? Divers7 dear friends slain?
And bloody England8 into England gone,
O’erbearing interruption, spite9 of France?
LEWIS What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice disposed11,
Such temperate12 order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example13: who hath read or heard
Of any kindred action like14 to this?
KING PHILIP Well could I bear that England had this praise,
So we could find some pattern16 of our shame.
Enter Constance
Distracted, with her hair down
Look, who comes here! A grave17 unto a soul:
Holding th’eternal spirit against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:
I prithee, lady, go away with me.
CONSTANCE Lo, now: now see the issue of your peace21.
KING PHILIP Patience, good lady: comfort, gentle Constance.
CONSTANCE No, I defy all counsel, all redress23,
But24 that which ends all counsel, true redress:
Death, death, O amiable25, lovely death:
Thou odoriferous stench: sound26 rottenness:
Arise forth from the couch of lasting27 night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones,
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty30 brows,
And ring these fingers with thy household worms,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome32 dust,
And be a carrion33 monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil’st
And buss35 thee as thy wife: misery’s love,
O, come to me!
KING PHILIP O fair affliction37, peace!
CONSTANCE No, no, I will not, having breath to cry:
O, that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world,
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy41
Which cannot hear a lady’s feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation43.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
CONSTANCE Thou art not holy to belie45 me so:
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine:
My name is Constance: I was Geoffrey’s wife:
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not mad: I would to heaven I were,
For then, ’tis like50 I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget!
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal:
For, being not mad, but sensible of54 grief,
My reasonable part55 produces reason
How I may be delivered of56 these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself:
If I were mad, I should forget my son,
Or madly think a babe of clouts59 were he:
I am not mad: too well, too well I feel
The different plague61 of each calamity.
KING PHILIP Bind up those tresses62: O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop64 hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends65
Do glue themselves in sociable66 grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
CONSTANCE To England, if you will69.
KING PHILIP Bind up your hairs.
CONSTANCE Yes, that I will: and wherefore71 will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud
‘O, that these hands could so redeem73 my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty!’
But now I envy at75 their liberty,
And will again commit them to their bonds,
She binds up her hair
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
And, Father Cardinal, I have heard you say
That we shall see and know79 our friends in heaven:
If that be true, I shall see my boy again;
For since the birth of Cain81, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire82,
There was not such a gracious83 creature born:
But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud84
And chase the native85 beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit87,
And so he’ll die: and rising88 so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know90 him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
CARDINAL PANDULPH You hold too heinous a respect92 of grief.
CONSTANCE He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP You are as fond of94 grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE Grief fills the room95 up of my absent child:
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers98 me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief?
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
She unbinds her hair
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form103 upon my head,
When there is such disorder in my wit:
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son,
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world:
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!
Exit
KING PHILIP I fear some outrage108, and I’ll follow her.
Exit
LEWIS There’s nothing in this world can make me joy109:
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull111 ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoiled the sweet word’s112 taste
That113 it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair115 and health,
The fit116 is strongest: evils that take leave,
On their d
eparture most of all show evil:
What have you lost by losing of this day118?
LEWIS All days of glory, joy and happiness.
CARDINAL PANDULPH If you had120 won it, certainly you had.
No, no: when Fortune means121 to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threat’ning eye:
’Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost
In this which he accounts124 so clearly won:
Are not you grieved that Arthur is his prisoner?
LEWIS As heartily as he is glad he hath him.
CARDINAL PANDULPH Your mind is all as youthful as your blood.
Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit:
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub130,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England’s throne. And therefore mark132:
John hath seized Arthur, and it cannot be
That whiles warm life plays in that infant’s134 veins,
The misplaced John should entertain135 an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.
A sceptre snatched with an unruly hand
Must be as boisterously138 maintained as gained:
And he that stands upon a slipp’ry place
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay140 him up:
That141 John may stand, then Arthur needs must fall:
So be it, for it cannot be but so.
LEWIS But what shall I gain by young Arthur’s fall?
CARDINAL PANDULPH You, in the right of Lady Blanche your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
LEWIS And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
CARDINAL PANDULPH How green147 you are, and fresh in this old world!
John lays you plots148: the times conspire with you:
For he that steeps his safety in true149 blood
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue150.
This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people and freeze up their zeal152,
That none so small advantage153 shall step forth
To check his reign154, but they will cherish it:
No natural exhalation155 in the sky,
No scope of nature, no distempered156 day,
No common wind, no customèd157 event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause158
And call them meteors, prodigies159, and signs,
Abortives, presages160, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing161 vengeance upon John.
LEWIS Maybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment163.
CARDINAL PANDULPH O sir, when he shall hear of your approach164,
If that young Arthur be not gone already,
Even at that news he dies: and then the hearts
Of all his people shall revolt from him,
And kiss the lips of unacquainted168 change,
And pick strong matter of169 revolt and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers’ ends of John170.
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot171:
And O, what better matter breeds172 for you
Than I have named! The Bastard Falconbridge
Is now in England, ransacking the Church,
Offending charity: if but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call176
To train177 ten thousand English to their side,
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon179 becomes a mountain. O noble dauphin,
Go with me to the king: ’tis wonderful
What may be wrought181 out of their discontent,
Now that their souls are top-full of offence182.
For England go: I will whet on183 the king.
LEWIS Strong reasons make strange actions184: let us go:
If you say ay185, the king will not say no.
Exeunt
Act 4 Scene 1
running scene 6
Enter Hubert and Executioners
With a rope and irons
HUBERT Heat me these irons hot, and look1 thou stand
Within the arras2: when I strike my foot
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth
And bind the boy which you shall find with me
Fast to the chair: be heedful5: hence, and watch.
FIRST EXECUTIONER I hope your warrant will bear out6 the deed.
The Executioners withdraw behind the arras
HUBERT Uncleanly scruples7: Fear not you: look to’t.
Young lad, come forth; I have to say with8 you.
Enter Arthur
ARTHUR Good morrow, Hubert.
HUBERT Good morrow, little10 prince.
ARTHUR As little prince, having so great a title11
To be more prince, as may be. You are sad12.
HUBERT Indeed, I have been merrier.
ARTHUR ’Mercy14 on me!
Methinks nobody should be sad but I:
Yet, I remember, when I was in France,
Young gentlemen would be as sad17 as night
Only for wantonness: by my christendom18,
So19 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 doubt21
My uncle practises22 more harm to me:
He is afraid of me, and I of him:
Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?
No, indeed, is’t not: and I would25 to heaven
I were your son, so26 you would love me, Hubert.
Aside
HUBERT If I talk to him, with his innocent prate27
He will awake my mercy which lies dead:
Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch29.
ARTHUR Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale today:
In sooth31, I would you were a little sick,
That I might sit all night and watch32 with you.
I warrant33 I love you more than you do me.
Aside
HUBERT His words do take possession of my bosom.—
Showing a paper/Aside
Read here, young Arthur.— How now, foolish rheum35!
Turning dispiteous torture out of door36?
I must be brief, lest resolution37 drop
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.
Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ39?
ARTHUR Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect40:
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes?
HUBERT Young boy, I must.
ARTHUR And will you?
HUBERT And I will.
ARTHUR Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher46 about your brows,
The best I had, a princess wrought it47 me,
And I did never ask it you48 again:
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful50 minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy51 time,
Saying ‘What lack you?’ and ‘Where lies your grief52?’
Or ‘What good love53 may I perform for you?’
Many a poor man’s son would have lien54 still
And ne’er have spoke a loving word to you:
But you at your sick service56 had a prince:
Nay, you may think my love was crafty57 love,
And call it cunning. Do, an if58 you will.
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill59,
Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes?
These eyes that never did, nor never shall,
So much as frown on you.
HUBERT I have sworn to do it:
And with hot irons must I burn them out.
ARTHUR Ah, none but in this iron age65 would do it:
The iron of itself, thoug
h heat66 red-hot,
Approaching near these eyes, would drink my tears
And quench this68 fiery indignation,
Even in the matter69 of mine innocence:
Nay, after that, consume away in rust
But for containing71 fire to harm mine eye:
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered iron?
And if an angel should have73 come to me
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes,
I would not have believed him: no tongue but Hubert’s.
HUBERT Come forth.
Stamps; Executioners come forward
Do as I bid you do.
ARTHUR O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out78
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men.
HUBERT Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here.
ARTHUR Alas, what need you be so boist’rous-rough?
I will not struggle: I will stand stone-still:
For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound:
Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb:
I will not stir, nor winch86, nor speak a word,
Nor look upon the iron angerly87:
Thrust but these men away, and I’ll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.
HUBERT Go, stand within: let me alone with him.
FIRST EXECUTIONER I am best pleased to be from91 such a deed.
[Exeunt Executioners]
ARTHUR Alas, I then have chid92 away my friend!
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart:
Let him come back, that his compassion may
Give life to yours.
King John & Henry VIII Page 8