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K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
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;
-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,
And I will keep him so,
K. John. Death.
He shall not live. K. John.
Enough. I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee; Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee: Remember.? er. Madam, fare
well: I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
For England, cousin:
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 sail? Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go
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.
of convicted suil-) Overpowered, baffled, destroyed.
K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost ?
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
praise, So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
of breath with fulsome dust,
3 No, I defy, fc.] To defy anciently signified to refuse,
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
O fair affliction, peace.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
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: I am not mad;-) would to heaven, I were! For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: O, if I could, what grief should I forget! Preach some philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal; For, being not mad, but sensible 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 should forget my son; Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: I am not mad; too well, too well I feel The different plague of each calamity. K. Phi. Bind up those tresses: O, what love I
* Misery's love, &c.] Thou, death, who art courted by Misery to come to his relief, O come to me.
moưern invocation.] i. e. trite, common. o Bind up those tresses:] It was necessary that Constance should be interrupted, because a passion so violent cannot be borne
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Const. To England, if you will. .
Bind up your hairs.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
long. I wish the following speeches had been equally happy; but they only serve to show how difficult it is to maintain the pathetick long. Johnson.
but yesterday suspire,] i. e. breathe. 8a gracious creature born.] Gracious, i, e. graceful.