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ACT MI

SCENE I.-Before Angiers. The French King's Tent.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY. Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!

False blood to false blood joined! gone to be friends!

Shall Lewis have Blanch; and Blanch those

provinces ?

It is not so; thou hast mis-spoke, mis-heard:
Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again.
It cannot be thou dost but say 't is 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 punished for thus frighting me :
For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears :

And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vexed 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?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again : not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true as, I believe, you think them false, That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die : And let belief and life encounter so As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which in the very meeting fall and die.—

Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? France friend with England! what becomes of me?

Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight:
This-news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done?

Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. Const. If thou that bidd'st me be content wert

grim,

Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patched with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
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 joined to make thee great:
Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose. But fortune, O!
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thy uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath plucked on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to 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.

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Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist;
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 deserved, what hath it done,
That it in golden letters should be set
Among the high tides 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 crossed:
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 pawned to you my majesty?

Const. You have beguiled me with a counterfeit, Resembling majesty; which, being touched and tried,

Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn :
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours:
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war
Is cold in amity and painted peace,

And our oppression hath made up this league.
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured 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 arméd discord 'twixt these perjured kings!
Hear me, O hear me!

Aust.

Lady Constance, peace.
Const. War, war! no peace: peace is to me a war.
O 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 perjured too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp, and swear,
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 these 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, cardinal, 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 usurped authority.

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.

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

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 foes.
Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have,

Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate:
And blesséd shall he be that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretic ;
And meritorious shall that hand be called,
Canoniséd and worshipped as a saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.
Const. O, lawful let it be
That I have room with Rome to curse awhile!
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. Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.

Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,

BecauseBast.

Your breeches best may carry them.
K. John. Philip, what sayst 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 untrimméd 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 moved, and answers not to this.

Const. O be removed 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 perplexed, and know not what to

say.

Pand. What canst thou say but will perplex

thee more,

If thou stand excommunicate and cursed?

K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person

yours,

And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit;
And the conjunction of our inward souls
Married in league, coupled and linked together
With all religious strength of sacred vows:
The latest breath that gave the sound of words,
Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love,
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 besmeared and over-
stained

With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint
The fearful difference of incenséd kings.
And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood,
So newly joined 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 bed
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,
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 blessed
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 mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A caséd lion by the mortal paw, 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, sett'st oath to oath,

Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow, First made to heaven, first be to heaven performed!

That is, to be the champion of our church.
What since thou swor'st, is sworn against thyself,
And may not be performed by thyself:
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 fire
Within the scorchéd veins of one new burned.
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;

And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth
Against an oath. The truth thou art unsure
To swear, swears 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

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

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Lew. I muse 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 shall not need :-England, I'll fall from thee.

Const. O fair return of banished 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 mayst win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst 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 :
Assuréd loss before the match be played!
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 burned up with inflaming wrath; A rage whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest valued 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 let's hie!
[Exeunt.

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behind,

K. John. So shall it be your grace shall stay
[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.
[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 cherishéd.
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 ashamed
Το
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:

But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so slow,
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
To give me audience. If the midnight bell

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