ACT III. A WOMAN'S FEARS. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sick, and capable* of fears; TOKENS OF GRIEF. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? What means that hand upon that breast of thine? Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds? Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak again; not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true. A MOTHER'S FONDNESS FOR A BEAUTIFUL CHILD. If thou, that bidst me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious§, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content; For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great; * Susceptible. + Unsightly. + Appearing. § Portentous. Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast, GRIEF. I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. COWARDICE AND PERJURY. O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch, thou Thou little valiant, great in villany! [coward: Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear, Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? And dost thou now fall over to my foes? Thou wear a lion's hide! doff* it for shame, And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. THE HORRORS OF A CONSPIRACY. I had a thing to say-But let it go: * Do off. + Showy ornaments. If this same were a churchyard where we stand, Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, APOSTROPHE TO DEATH. O amiable, lovely death! Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! Thou hate and terror to prosperity, And ring these fingers with thy household worms; A MOTHER'S RAVINGS. I am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine; My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; * Conception. L Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: A MOTHER'S GRIEF FOR THE LOSS OF A SON. Father cardinal, I have heard you say, Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. * Breathe. + Graceful. Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me; DESPONDENCY. 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. STRENGTH OF DEPARTING DISEASES. 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. DANGER TAKES HOLD OF ANY SUPPORT. He, that stands upon a slippery place, Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. ACT IV. ARTHUR'S PATHETIC SPEECHES TO HUBERT. Methinks, nobody should be sad but I: Have you the heart? When your head did but I knit my handkerchief about your brows, [ache, (The best I had, a princess wrought it me), |