ACT III.

SCENE I.-The same.-The French King's Tent.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.

Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!

[friends! False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces ?

It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be wel advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again:
It cannot be; thou dost but say, 'tis so:
I trust, I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man :
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick, and capable of fears; [fears;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of
A widow, husbaudless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears; [jest,
And though thou now confess, thou didst but
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
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?

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:
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,
And with the half blown rose: but fortune, O!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on
France

To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd of theirs.

France is a bawd to fortune, and king John; That strumpet fortune, that usurping John:Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave those woes alone, which I alone, Am bound to under-bear.

Sal. Pardon me, madam,.

I may not go without you to the kings.

Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with thee:

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
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 sorrow sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
[She throws herself on the ground.

Enter King JOHN, King PHILIP, LEWIS,
BLANCH, ELINOR, BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and
Attendants.

K. Phi. "Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day,

Ever in France shall be kept festival:
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist;
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holyday.

Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday!-

[Rising. What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it That it in golden letters should be set, [done; Among the high tides,t in the kalendar? Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week; This day of shame, oppression, perjury: Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ; No bargains break, that are not this day made: This day, all things begun come to ill end; Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change! K. Phi. By heaven, lady you shall have no

cause

To curse the fair proceedings of this day:
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty?

Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit,

Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd,
Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn;
and tried,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours:
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,
And our oppression hath made up this league:
Is cold in amity and painted peace,
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd
kings!

A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens!
Let not the hours of this ungodly day

Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings! Hear me, O, hear me!

O

Aust. Lady Constance, peace.

Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me

a war.

Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch,

thou coward;

Thou little valiant, great in villany!
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,

[swear, A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and 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. Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to me!

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life.

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget thyself.

Enter PANDUlph.

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope.

Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! To thee, king John, my holy errand is. I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, And from pope Innocent the legate here, Do, in his name, religiously demand, Why thou against the church, our holy mother, So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce, Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop Of Canterbury, from that holy see? This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, ! Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories,

Can task the free breath of a sacred king?
Thou canst not, cardinaì, devise a name
So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous,
To charge me to an answer, as the pope.
Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of
England,

Add thus much more,-That no Italian priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions;

But as we under heaven are supreme head,
So, under him, that great supremacy,
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand:
So tell the pope; all reverence set apart,
To him, and his usurp'd authority.

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme

in this.

K. John. Though you, and all the kings of

Christendom,

[foes.

Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out;
And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself:
Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led,
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish;
Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose
Against the pope, and count his friends my
Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou snalt stand curs'd, and excommunicate:
And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretic;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.

Const. O, lawful let it be,

* Do off.

That I have room with Rome to curse a while!
Good father cardinal, cry thou, Amen,
To my keen curses; for, without my wrong,
There is no tongue hath power to curse him
right.

Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my

curse.

Const. And for mine too; when law can do no right,

Let it be lawful, that law bar no wrong:
Law cannot give my child his kingdom here;
For he, that holds his kingdom, holds the law:
Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse?
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic;
And raise the power of France upon his head,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome.

Eli. Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand.

Const. Look to that, devil! lest that France repent,

And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. Bust. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.

Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these Because [wrongs, Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal?

Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal?

Lew. Bethink you, father; for the difference Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, Or the light loss of England for a friend: Forego the easier.

Blanch. That's the curse of Rome.

Const. O Lewis, stand fast; the devil tempts thee here,

In likeness of a new untrimmed bride.
Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from
her faith,
But from her need.

Const. O, if thou grant my need,
Which only lives but by the death of faith,
That need must needs infer this principle,-
That faith would live again by death of need;
O, then, tread down my need, and faith mounts

up;

Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down. K. John. The king is mov'd, and answers not to this.

Const. O, be remov'd from him, and answer well.

Aust. Do so, king Philip; hang no more in doubt.

Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout.

K. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what to say.

Pund. What can'st thou say, but will perplex thee more,

If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd?
K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my per-

With all religious strength of sacred vows; The latest breath that gave the sound of words, Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love,

"When unadorn'd adorn'd the most." Thomson's Autumn, 206.

Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves; And even before this truce, but new before, No longer than we well could wash our hands, To clap this royal bargain up of peace,Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd [paint With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did The fearful difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood,

So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet?*
Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with
heaven,

Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm;
Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, [bed
And make a riot on the gentle brow
Of true sincerity? O holy Sir,
My reverend father, let it not be so:
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose
Some gentle order; and then we shall be
bless'd

To do your pleasure, and continue friends.

Pand. All form is formless, order orderless, Save what is opposite to England's love. Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church! Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse,

A mother's curse, on her revolting son.
France, thou may'st hold a serpent by the
A cased lion by the mortal paw, [tongue,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou
dost hold.

K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.

Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to

faith;

And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath,
Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow
First made to heaven, first be to heaven per-
form'd;

That is, to be the champion of our church!
What since thou swor'st, is sworn against thy-
And may not be performed by thyself: [self,
For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss,
Is not amiss when it is truly done;
And being not done, where doing tends to ill,
The truth is then most done not doing it:
The better act of purposes mistook
Is, to mistake again; though indirect,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct,
And falsehood falsehood cures; as fire cools
Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd.
It is religion, that doth make vows kept;
But thou hast sworn against religion;
By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou
swear'st;

[fire,

And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth
Against an oath: The truth thou art unsure
To swear, swear only not to be forsworn;
Else, what a mockery should it be to swear?
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn;
And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost

swear.

Therefore, thy latter vows, against thy first,
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself:

And better conquest never canst thou make,
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
Against those giddy loose suggestions:
Upon which better part our prayers come in,
If thou vouchsafe them: but, if not, then know,
The peril of our curses light on thee;

* Exchange of salutation.

So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off, But, in despair, die under their black weight. Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion!

Bast. Will't not be?

Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? Lew. Father, to arms!

Blanch. Upon thy wedding day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd [drums,

men?

Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish Clamours of hell,-be measures to our pomp?

husband, hear me !—ah, alack, how new Is husband in my mouth!-even for that name, Which till this time my tongue did ne'er proUpon my knee I beg, go not to arms [nounce, Against mine uncle.

Const. O, upon my knee,

Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Fore-thought by heaven.

Blanch. Now shall I see thy love; What motive may

Be stronger with thee than the name of wife! Const. That which upholdeth him that thee

upholds,

[honour! His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine Lew. I muse,t your majesty doth seem so

cold,

When such profound respects do pull you on. Pand. I will denounce a curse upon his head. K. Phi. Thou shalt not need:-England, I'll fall from thee.

Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty ! Eli. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.

Bast. Old time the clock-setter, that bald sexton time,

Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood: Fair

day, adieu!

Which is the side that I must go withal?
I am with both: each army hath a hand;
And, in their rage, I having hold of both,
They whirl asunder, and dismember me.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st
lose;

Father, I may not wish the fortune thine;
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive:
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose;
Assured loss, before the match be play'd.
Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune

lies.

Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.

K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance; together.[Exit BASTARD. France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath; A rage, whose heat hath this condition, Than nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood, of France. K. Phi. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and

thou shalt turn

To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire:
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
K. John. No more than he that threats.-To
arms lets hie!

[Exeunt. Angiers. Alarums, Excursions.-Enter the BASTARD, with AUSTRIA's head.

SCENE II.-The same.-Plains near

Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows won. drous hot;

* Music for dancing. + Wonder,

+ Force.

SCENE III.-The same. Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter King JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the BASTARD, HUBERT, and Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind, [To ELINOR. So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad: [To ARTHUR. Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will As dear be to thee as thy father was. Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.

K. John. Cousin, [To the BASTARD] away for
England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots; angels imprisoned
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon:
Use our commission in his utmost force.
Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive
me back,

When gold and silver becks me to come on.
I leave your highness:-Grandam, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy,)

For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.
Eli. Farewell, my gentle cousin.

K. John. Coz, farewell. [Exit BASTARD.
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a
word. [She takes ARTHUR aside.
K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle
Hubert,

We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a soul, counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love:
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say,-
But I will fit it with some better time.
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty.
K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to
say so yet:

[slow,
But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,t
To give me audience:-If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we
stand,

And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; (Which, else, runs tickling up and down the

veins,

Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, + Showy ornoorte,

* Gold coin.

And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;)
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit* alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of
words;

Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me under-
take,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I'd do't.

K. John. Do not I know, thou would'st? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine

eye

On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my
And, whersoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He is a very serpent in my way; [friend,
He lies before me: Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.

Hub. And I will keep him so,
That he shall not offend your majesty.
K. John. Death.
Hub. My lord?
K. John. A grave.

Hub. He shall not live.
I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
K. John. Enough.
Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember.Madam, fare you well:
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty.
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
K. John. For England, cousin:
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty.-On toward Calais, ho!
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same.-The French King's
Tent.
Enter King PHILIP, LEWIS, Pandulph, and
Attendants.

K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the A whole armadot of convicted sails [flood, Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go well.

K. Phi. 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? Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortiSo hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, [fied: Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: Who hath read, or heard, Of any kindred action like to this?

K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,

So we could find some pattern of our shame.