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.
Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.
CONST. Thou mayst, thou shalt, I will not go with thee:
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud:
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop ".
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.
[She throws herself on the ground.
Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA,
K. PHI. T is 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 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 holiday.
CONST. A wicked day, and not a holyday!
What hath this day deserv'd? 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 burthens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day let seamen fear no wrack;
■ Stoop. An "emendation" by Hanmer,
"For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout,"
is forced and absurd. The meaning of the passage appears to us briefly thus: Constance refuses to go with Salisbury to the kings—she will instruct her sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud in spirit, even while it bows down the body of its owner.
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, 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 perjur'd kings! A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the daya in peace; but, ere sunset, Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings! Here me, O, hear me !
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 villainy!
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, 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 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.
a Day. The original has days.
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 usurp'd 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 PAND. Then by the lawful power that I have, Thou shalt stand curs'd, and excommunicate: And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic;
a Earthly. In the original, earthy.
That I have room with Romea 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.
BAST. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. AUST. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because-
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.
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.
a Room with Rome. Rome was formerly pronounced room-and Shakspere indulges in a play upon words, even when the utterer is strongly moved.
Mr. Dyce holds that untrimmed means virgin; which he supports by an example of trimm'd from Fletcher.
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. PAND. What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more, If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd?
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 link'd 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 besmear'd and overstain'd With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint 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-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 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.
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