Constance’s speeches and analyses.
Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it?
Source
Oxford? | Editors. London: Oxford?, 2009?
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.
She binds up her hair.
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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of 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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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
Thought Counts
Oxford? | 2009?
Short: 11
Medium: 5
Long: 2
Total: 18
End-stopped: 14
Mid-line: 4
Periods: 11
Exclamations: 5
Questions: 2
Unfinished: 0
Constance needs:
the Cardinal or King John to…
Thoughts
Oxford? | 2009?
CONSTANCE
1. Yes, that I will. 2. And wherefore will I do it?
3. 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!’
4. But now I envy at their liberty
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
She binds up her hair.
5. And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven.
6. 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.
7. 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. 8. Therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
9. He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
10. 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.
11. Then, have I reason to be fond of grief?
12. Fare you well. 13. Had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
[She unbinds her hair]
14. I will not keep this form upon my head
When there is such disorder in my wit.
15. O Lord! 16. My boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
17. My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
18. My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!
Exit
Line Analysis
Oxford? | 2009?
CONSTANCE
Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it? 11w
I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud, 10R
‘O, that these hands could so redeem my son 10
As they have given these hairs their liberty!’ 10R | 10
But now I envy at their liberty 10R
And will again commit them to their bonds, 10R
Because my poor child is a prisoner. 10
She binds up her hair.
And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say 10R | 11
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven. 11w
If that be true, I shall see my boy again, 11
For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, 10R
To him that did but yesterday suspire, 10R
There was not such a gracious creature born. 10R
But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud 10R
And chase the native beauty from his cheek, 10R
And he will look as hollow as a ghost, 10R
As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit, 10R
And so he’ll die; and, rising so again, 10R
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, 11w
I shall not know him. Therefore never, never 11w
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. 10R
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son. 10R
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, 10R | 10
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, 10
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, 10R | 10
Remembers me of all his gracious parts, 10R
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. 10R | 10
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? 10R | 10
Fare you well. Had you such a loss as I, 10
I could give better comfort than you do. 10
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form upon my head 10R
When there is such disorder in my wit. 10R
O Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son! 10
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world! 10R
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure! 10R
Exit
Phrasing and Tempo
Oxford? | 2009?
CONSTANCE
Yes, that I will. <c, quickly> And wherefore will I do it? slowly | pause
I tore them from their bonds <c> and cried aloud, slowly?
‘O, that these hands<c> could so redeem my son carefully slowly?
As they have given these hairs their liberty!’ pause
But now I envy at their liberty
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child <c> is a prisoner. pause
She binds up her hair.
And,<c> father Cardinal,<c> I have heard you say
That we shall see <c> and know<c> our friends in heaven. pause
If that be true,<c> I shall see my boy again, slowly?
For since the birth of Cain,<c> the first male child, slowly
To him <c> that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature born. pause
But now <c> will canker-sorrow <c> eat my bud carefully
And chase the native beauty<c> from his cheek,
And he will look <c> as hollow as a ghost, carefully slowly?
As dim and meagre <c> as an ague’s fit, carefully
And so he’ll die;<c> and,<c> rising so again, slowly |
When I shall meet him <c> in the court of heaven, slowly?
I shall not know him. <c, quickly> Therefore never,<c> never slowly |
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. pause
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me <c> that never had a son. pause slowly?
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
Grief <c> fills the room up of my absent child, carefully
Lies in his bed, <c> walks up and down with me, slowly
Puts on his pretty looks,<c> repeats his words,
Remembers me <c> of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out <c> his vacant garments <c> with his form. pause carefully
Then, <c> have I reason <c> to be fond of grief? pause slowly?
Fare you well. <c, quickly> Had you such a loss as I, slowly
I could give better comfort than you do. pause
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form upon my head slowly
When there is such <c> disorder in my wit. pause carefully
O Lord! <c, quickly> My boy,<c>my Arthur,<c> my fair son! pause slowly
My life,<c>my joy,<c>my food,<c>my all the world! pause slowly
My widow-comfort, <c> and my sorrows’ cure! pause
Exit
Sounds
Oxford? | 2009?
CONSTANCE
Yes, that I oo-ill. And oo-ehrefore oo-ill I doo it?
I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud,
‘O, that theese hands could so redeem my son
As they have given these heh-uhrs their liberty!’
But now I envy at theh-uhr liberty
And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
She binds up her hair.
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 Ceh-een, the first meh-eele child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a greh-eecious creeture born.
But now will canker-sorrow eet my bud
And cheh-eese the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meegre as an ague’s fit,
And so hee‘ll dah-ee; and, rah-eesing so ageh-een,
When ah-ee shall meet him in the court of heaven,
I shall not know him. Therefore never, never
Must ah-ee behold mah-ee pretty Arthur more.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, oo-ahlks up and dah-oon with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his oo-uhrds,
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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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
Rhetoric
Oxford? | 2009?
CONSTANCE
Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it?
I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud, (imagery, metaphor)
‘O, that these hands could so redeem my son
As they have given these hairs their liberty!’ (formidable phraseology, antithesis, comparison, personification, hyperbole)
But now I envy at their liberty
And will again commit them to their bonds, (imagery, metaphor)
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
She binds up her hair.
And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say (irony)
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 (personification, imagery, metaphor)
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost, (simile, imagery)
As dim and meagre as an ague’s fit, (simile, imagery)
And so he’ll die; and, rising so again, (imagery)
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven, (imagery)
I shall not know him. Therefore never, never (repetition)
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of your child.
CONSTANCE
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, (personification, imagery)
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, (imagery, list of 6 or 7, this and that)
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, (imagery)
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. (imagery)
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief? (rhetorical question)
Fare you well. Had you such a loss as I, (antithesis)
I could give better comfort than you do.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form upon my head (metaphor, antithesis, comparison)
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my fair son! (list of 9)
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world!
My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!
Exit
Before and After
Oxford? | 2009?
SCENE IV. The same. KING PHILIP’S tent.
Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, CARDINAL PANDULPH, and Attendants
KING PHILIP
So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado of convicted sail
Is scatter’d and disjoin’d from fellowship.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.
KING PHILIP
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?
LEWIS
What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice disposed,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example: who hath read or heard
Of any kindred action like to this?
KING PHILIP
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 prithee, lady, go away with me.
CONSTANCE
Lo, now I now see the issue of your peace.
KING PHILIP
Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance!
CONSTANCE
No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death; O amiable lovely death!
Thou odouriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows
And ring these fingers with thy household worms
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest
And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love,
O, come to me!
KING PHILIP
O fair affliction, 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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
CONSTANCE
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: 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 canonized, 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.
KING PHILIP
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
CONSTANCE
To England, if you will.
KING PHILIP
Bind up your hairs.
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.
She binds up her hair.
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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of 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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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
Definitions
Oxford? | 2009?
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.
She binds up her hair.
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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of 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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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
Translation
Oxford? | 2009?
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.
She binds up her hair.
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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of 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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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
SCENE IV. The same. KING PHILIP’S tent.
Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, CARDINAL PANDULPH, and Attendants
KING PHILIP
So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armado of convicted sail
Is scatter’d and disjoin’d from fellowship.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.
KING PHILIP
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?
LEWIS
What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice disposed,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example: who hath read or heard
Of any kindred action like to this?
KING PHILIP
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 prithee, lady, go away with me.
CONSTANCE
Lo, now I now see the issue of your peace.
KING PHILIP
Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle Constance!
CONSTANCE
No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death; O amiable lovely death!
Thou odouriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows
And ring these fingers with thy household worms
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smilest
And buss thee as thy wife. Misery’s love,
O, come to me!
KING PHILIP
O fair affliction, 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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.
CONSTANCE
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: 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 canonized, 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.
KING PHILIP
Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note
In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glue themselves in sociable grief,
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
CONSTANCE
To England, if you will.
KING PHILIP
Bind up your hairs.
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.
She binds up her hair.
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.
CARDINAL PANDULPH
You hold too heinous a respect of grief.
CONSTANCE
He talks to me that never had a son.
KING PHILIP
You are as fond of grief as of 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.
[She unbinds her hair]
I will not keep this form 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