you hated terror of prosperity,
and I will kiss your revolting bones,
and put my eyeballs into your skull,
and wear your household worms as rings,
and stop my gasping breath with nauseous dust,
and be a rotting monster like yourself.
Come, grin at me, and I will think you are smiling,
and kiss you as your wife. Lover of misery,
oh, come to me!
KING PHILIP.
O fair affliction, peace!
Oh lovely torment, 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 anatomy
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation.
No, no, I will not be quiet, as long as I have breath to cry.
I wish that I could speak like thunder!
Then I would shake the world with a passion,
and wake that cruel skeleton from its sleep
which cannot hear the feeble voice of a lady,
which scorns modern spells.
PANDULPH.
Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow.
Lady, this is not sorrow, this is madness.
CONSTANCE.
Thou art 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-I 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.
It's very holy of you to portray me as such.
I am not mad: this hair I tear is my own;
my name is Constance; I was the wife of Geoffrey;
young Arthur is my son, and he has been lost.
I am not mad–I wish to heaven I was!
For then I would be able to forget who I am,
oh, if I could, what grief I would be forgetting!
Tell me how I can turn myself mad,
and you will be canonised, Cardinal;
for, not being mad but able to feel grief,
my mind offers me the solution
to help me escape from my sorrows,
and tells me to kill or hang myself.
If I were mad I would forget about my son,
or madly think that he was worthless.
I am not mad; I can feel the curse of each
terrible event all too well.
KING PHILIP.
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by a chance a silver drop hath fall'n,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
Tie up your hair. Oh, what love I can see
in that lovely crop of her hair!
When a silver tear has fallen there by chance
ten thousand wiry friends glue themselves to it,
sharing in its grief,
like true, inseparable, faithful lovers,
sticking together through disaster.
CONSTANCE.
To England, if you will.
Let's go to England, if you agree.
KING PHILIP.
Bind up your hairs.
Tie up your hair.
CONSTANCE.
Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud
'O 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;
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,
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
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Yes, I shall; and why will I do it?
I tore them from their constraints, and cried aloud
“I wish these hands could free my son as easily
as they have freed these hairs!"
But now I am jealous of their freedom,
and will tie them up again,
because my poor child is a prisoner.
And, Father Cardinal, I have heard you say
that we will see and recognise our friends in heaven;
if that is true, I will see my boy again;
for since Cain, the first male child, was born,
up until the last boy born yesterday,
there was never such a lovely creature born.
But now the disease of sorrow eats at my bud
and drives the natural beauty out of his face,
and he will look as thin as a ghost,
as grey and skinny as one with a fever;
and so he will die; and, rising up again,
when I meet him in heaven
I will not recognise him. So I will never, never
ever see my pretty Arthur again.
PANDULPH.
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
It's sinful to have such respect for grief.
CONSTANCE.
He talks to me that never had a son.
The one who talks to me has never had a son.
KING PHILIP.
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
You like your grief as much as your child.
CONSTANCE.
Grief fills the room up of my 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.
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 her
hair]
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure!
Grief fills up the room of my absent child,
lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
imitates his looks, speaks like him,
reminds me of all his good qualities,
fills his empty clothes with his shape;
so I have good reason to like grief.
Farewell; if you had suffered my loss,
I would be able to comfort you better than you comfort me.
I won't keep my hair in order,
when my mind is so disordered.
Oh Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my lovely son!
My life, my joy, my food, my whole world!
The comfort of my widowhood, cure of all my sorrows!
Exit
KING PHILIP.
I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her.
I'm afraid she'll do herself some damage, and I will follow her.
Exit
LEWIS.
There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste,
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
There's nothing in this world which can make me happy.
Life is as dull as a story you've heard already
irritating the unhearing ear of a sleepy man;
bitter shame has spoilt the sweet taste of the world,
so that I can taste only shame and bitterness.
PANDULPH.
Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils that take leave
On their departure most of all show evil;
What have you lost by losing of this day?
Before a strong disease can be cured,
even at the moment that health is returning,
it is at its worst; evils that can be seen
as they leave are the most evil;
what have you lost by your defeat today?
LEWIS.
All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Any chance of glory, joy and happiness.
PANDULPH.
If you had won it, certainly you had.
No, no; when Fortune means 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 accounts so clearly won.
Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner?
If you had one, you certainly would have.
No, no; when Fortune intends to favour men most,
she looks at them frighteningly.
It's strange to think how much King John has lost
in this action which he thinks he has obviously won.
Aren't you upset that Arthur is his prisoner?
LEWIS.
As heartily as he is glad he hath him.
As much as he is glad to have captured him.
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 rub,
Out of the path which shall directly lead
Thy foot to England's throne. And therefore mark:
John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins,
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest.
A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand
Must be boisterously maintain'd as gain'd,
And he that stands upon a slipp'ry place
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up;
That John may stand then, Arthur needs must fall;
So be it, for it cannot be but so.
Your mind is as immature as your body.
Now listen to me prophesy;
just the breath of what I say
will blow each bit of dust, each straw, each little obstacle,
out of the path which leads directly for you
on to the throne of England. And so note this:
John has captured Arthur; while that child
has any warm blood in his veins it cannot be
that thieving John can ever enjoy an hour,
a minute, no, not one quiet breath of rest.
When a sceptre has been snatched by violence
it must be kept with the same energy with which it was gained,
and someone who is standing in a slippery place
does not reject any evil which will keep him upright.
So that John can stand, Arthur has to fall;
this will happen, it's the only thing that can happen.
LEWIS.
But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall?
But what will I gain by young Arthur's fall?
PANDULPH.
You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did.
You can claim everything that Arthur did
through your rights as husband of Lady Blanche.
LEWIS.
And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did.
And lose it, along with my life, as Arthur did.
PANDULPH.
How green you are and fresh in this old world!
John lays you plots; the times conspire with you;
For he that steeps his safety in true blood
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue.
This act, so evilly borne, shall cool the hearts
Of all his people and freeze up their zeal,
That none so small advantage shall step forth
To check his reign but they will cherish it;
No natural exhalation in the sky,
No scope of nature, no distemper'd day,
No common wind, no customed event,
But they will pluck away his natural cause
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs,
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John.
How innocent you are to the ways of this old world!
John plots against you; the times are on your side;
for someone who sheds noble blood for his own safety
will find that safety is bloody and unsafe.
When he does this evil act it will cool the hearts
of all his people and take away their passion,
so that when any small opportunity arises
to stop his rule they will welcome it;
there will be no natural cloud in the sky,
no natural event, no stormy day,
no ordinary wind, no normal happening,
without them ignoring the natural cause
and calling them meteors, unnatural signs,
abortions, predictions, voices from heaven,
plainly proclaiming that John must be punished.
LEWIS.
May be he will not touch young Arthur's life,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment.
Maybe he will not kill young Arthur,
but keep himself safe by imprisoning him.
PANDULPH.
O, Sir, when he shall hear of your approach,
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 unacquainted change,
And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John.
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot;
And, O, what better matter breeds for you
Than I have nam'd! The bastard Faulconbridge
Is now in England ransacking the Church,
Offending charity; if but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side;
Or as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin,
Go with me to the King. 'Tis wonderful
What may be wrought out of their discontent,
Now that their souls are topful of offence.
For England go; I will whet on the King.
Oh sir, when he hears that you are coming,
if young Arthur has not already being killed,
he will be killed at the news; and then the hearts
of all his people will revolt against him,
and welcome unknown change,
and find good cause for revolution and anger
in John's bloody hands.
I can picture all this chaos;
and how can things go better for you
than what I have described! The bastard Faulconbridge
is stealing money from the church in England,
losing goodwill; if there were just a dozen Frenchmen
there in arms, that would be a summons that
would bring ten thousand Englishmen to their side;
it would be like a little snow which stirred up
soon becomes an avalanche. O noble Dauphin,
come with me to the king. It's amazing
what can be created from unhappiness,
now that their souls are brimful of wrongdoing.
Go to England; I will encourage the King.
LEWIS.
Strong reasons makes strange actions. Let us go;
If you say ay, the King will not say no.
We must do strange things when we have good reasons to. Let's go;
if you say yes, the King will not say no.
Exeunt
England. A castle
Enter HUBERT and EXECUTIONERS
HUBERT.
Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand
Within the arras. 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 heedful; hence, and watch.
Heat these irons hot for me; and you go and hide
behind the curtain. When I stamp my foot
upon the floor, rush out
and tie up the boy you find with me
tight to the chair. Keep alert; off you go, and watch out.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) Page 10
