Part 7 (1/2)

”A hardy wildehead, tough and venturous,”

and he talks and acts the character to the life In ”The Troubleso John,” he is proud of his true father, the lion-hearted Richard, and careless of the stain of his illegitimate birth; he cries:

”The world 's in inet

I, ame He act some wonders now I know land's wealth and all the world beside”

Who does not feel the leaping courage and hardihood of the bastard in these lines? Shakespeare seizes the spirit of the character and renders it, but his emendations are all by way of emphasis: he does not add a new quality; his bastard is the bastard of ”The Troublesoentle, pathetic character of Arthur is all Shakespeare's In the old play Arthur is presented as a prees the claihts, and now begs his vixenish mother to

”Wisely winke at all Least further harain, he consoles her with the sariefe May change with them and all to our reliefe”

This Arthur is certainly nothing like Shakespeare's Arthur Shakespeare, who had just lost his only son Ha John” Shakespeare had visited Stratford for the first time after ten years absence and had then perhaps learned to know and love young Ha man into a child, and draws all the pathos possible fro; Arthur's first words are of ”his powerless hand,” and his advice to his mother reaches the very fount of tears:

”Good rave; I am not worth this coil that's ht is not of hirief”

He is a woman-child in unselfish sympathy

The whole of the exquisitely pathetic scene between Hubert and Arthur belongs, as one uessed, to Shakespeare, that is, the whole pathos of it belongs to him

In the old play Arthur thanks Hubert for his care, calls him ”curteous keeper,” and, in fact, behaves as the conventional prince He has no words of such affecting appeal as Shakespeare puts into Arthur's mouth:

”I would to heaven I were your son, so you would lovefor love is the characteristic of Shakespeare's Arthur; he goes on:

”Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day

In sooth, I would you were a little sick, That I ht and watch with you: I warrant, I love you irl could not be more tender, ne,” when Hubert tells Arthur that he has bad news for his of ”more hate than death,” Arthur faces the unknoith a e; he asks:

”What is it, man? if needes be don, Act it, and end it, that the paine were gon”

It , so hardy-reckless are the words When this Arthur pleads for his eyesight, he does it in this way:

”I speake not only for eyes priviledge, The chiefe exterior that I would enjoy: But for thy perill, farre beyond my paine, Thy sweete soules losse ain at the end he says:

”Delay not, Hubert, ht”

And when Hubert relents because his ”conscience bids him desist,” Arthur says:

”Hubert, if ever Arthur be in state Looke for aift”

In all this there is neither realization of character nor even sincere emotion But Shakespeare's Arthur is a , and moves us to pity at every word: