Wednesday's Woe - Would'st Thou Take My Grief Away?

Wednesday's Woe

Would'st Thou Take My Grief Away?

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.

~William Shakespeare

***

Shakespeare: Grief fills the room up of my absent child

Constance fears that her son Prince Arthur, heir to the thone of England, will be murdered at the order of his uncle, King John. He does indeed die while trying to escape from his murderers.

CONSTANCE...

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;

To me and to the state of my great grief

Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great

That no supporter but the huge firm earth

Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;

Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

Seats herself on the ground

[In a later scene]

CONSTANCE

No, I defy all counsel, all redress,

But that which ends all counsel, true redress,

Death, death; O amiable lovely death!

CARDINAL PANDULPH

Lady, you utter madness, and not sorrow.

CONSTANCE

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....

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...

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!

--Shakespeare (1564-1616), King John, Act III

*******

And to Shakespeare's poignant words, I add my verse:

Grief fills the heart up of my absent child,

In my minds eye, appears and talks with me,

True to her nature, personality...

Upbeat, laughter, e'er encouraging smile,

E'er reminding me she IS here, alive,

Yet with spirit-whole, in rapt purity!

Then have I reason to be fond of grief...

'Tis my Father's gift, brings me sweet relief!

Fare you well you who bidst me not to grieve,

Disdainers, from my presence now, must leave!

Oh Lord! My child! My Merry Katherine!

My life! My joy! My baby girl! My world!

My sorrow's cure: your sweet smile, my baby girl!

picture: http://twitpic.com/wgqp9

Shakespeare: http://www.consolatio.com/2005/04/grief_fills_the.html