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. 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. I will not keep this form upon my head, [_She unbinds 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 all the world! My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure! [_Exit._] KING PHILIP. I fear some outrage, and I’ll follow her. [_Exit._] LOUIS. 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. 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? LOUIS. All days 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? LOUIS. As heartily as he is glad he hath him.