What fince thou fwor'ft, is fworn against thy felf,
And may not be performed by thy felf;

For that which thou haft fworn to do amifs,
Is not amifs when it is truly done:

And being not done, where doing tends to ill,
The Truth is then moft done, not doing it:
The better Act of Purposes miftook,
Is to mistake again, though indirect,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct,

And Falfhood, Falfhood cures, as Fire cools Fire
Within the fcorching Veins of one new burn'd.
It is Religion that doth make Vows kept,
But thou haft fworn against Religion:

By what thou fwear'ft, against the thing thou fwear'ft:
And mak'st an Oath the furety for thy Truth:
Against an Oath the Truth, thou art unfure
To fwear, fwears, only not to be forfworn;
Elfe what a Mockery fhould it be to swear?
But thou doft fwear, only to be forfworn,
And most forfworn, to keep what thou doft fwear;
Therefore thy latter Vows, against thy fuft,
Is in thy felf Rebellion to thy felf:

And better Conqueft never canft thou make,
Than arm thy conftant and thy nobler Parts
Against thefe giddy loofe Suggeftions:
Upon which better Part, our Pray'rs come in
If thou vouchfafe them. But if not, then know
The Peril of our Curfes light on thee

So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off,
But in defpair, die under their black weight.
Auft. Rebellion, flat Rebellion.

Baft. Will't not be?

Will not a Calves-skin ftop that Mouth of thine?
Lewis. Father, to Arms.

Blanch. Upon thy Wedding-day?

Against the Blood that thou haft married?

What, fhall our Feaft be kept with flaughter'd Men?
Shall braying Trumpets, and loud churlish Drums,
Clamours of Hell, be measures to our Pomp?
O Husband, hear me: Ay, alack, how new
Is Husband in my Mouth? Even for that Name
VOL. III.

D

Which

Which 'till this time my Tongue did ne'er pronounce;
Upon my Knee I beg, go not to Arms
Against mine Uncle.

Conft. O, upon my Knee, made hard with kneeling,
I do pray to thee, thou virtuous Dauphin,

Alter not the Doom fore-thought by Heav'n.

Blanch. Now fhall I fee thy Love, what Motive may Be ftronger with thee than the Name of Wife?

Conft. That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds, His Honour. Oh thine Honour, Lewis, thine Honour. Lewis. I muse your Majefty doth feem fo cold, When fuch profound Refpects do pull you on? Pand. I will denounce a Curfe upon his Head.

[thee.

K. Philip. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from Conft. O fair return of banish'd Majefty.

Eli. O foul revolt of French Inconftancy.

K. John. France, thou shalt rue this Hour within this Hour. Baft. Old Time the Clock-Setter, that bald Sexton, Time, Is it as he will? Well then, France fhall rue.

Blanch. The Sun's o'ercaft with Blood: Fair Day adieu.
Which is the fide that I must go withal?
I am with both, each Army hath a Hand,
And in their Rage, I having hold of both,
They whirle afunder, and difmember me.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win:
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st lofe:
Father, I may not with the Fortune thine:
Grandam, I will not with thy Wishes thrive:
Who ever wins, on that fide fhall I lofe:
Affured lofs, before the match be plaid.

Lewis. Lady, with me, with me thy Fortune lyes.
Blanch. There where my Fortune lives, there my Life dies.
K. John. Coufin, go draw our Puiffance together.

France, I am burn'd up with inflaming Wrath,

A Rage, whofe heat hath this condition;

That nothing can allay, nothing but Blood,

The Blood and deareft valu'd Blood of France.

K. Philip. Thy Rage fhall burn thee up, and thou fhall turn To Alhes, e'er our Blood fhall quench that Fire: Look to thy felf, thou art in jeopardy.

K. John. No more than he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

[Exeunt.

Alarms, Excursions: Enter Baftard with Auftria's Head. Baft. Now by my Life, this Day grows wondrous hot, Some aiery Devil hovers in the Sky,

And pours down mifchief.

Auftria's Head lye there,
Enter King John, Arthur, and Hubert.

While Philip breathes.

K. John. Hubert, keep this Boy. My Mother is affailed in our Tent, And ta'en, I fear.

Philip, make up;

Baft. My Lord, I refcued her:
Her Highness is in fafety, fear you not.
But on, my Liege, for very little Pains
Will bring this labour to an happy end.

[Exeunt.

Alarms, Excurfions, Retreat. Enter King John, Elinor, Arthur, Baftard, Hubert, and Lords.

K. John. So fhall it be; your Grace fhall ftay behind So ftrongly guarded: Coufin, look not fad,

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. Coufin, away for England, hafte before,
And e'er our coming fee thou shake the Bags
Of hoarding Abbots, imprisoned Angels

Set at liberty: The fat ribs of Peace

Muft by the hungry now be fed upon:

Ufe our Commiffion in its utmost force.

Baft. 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 fafety; fo I kifs your Hand.

Eli. Farewel, gentle Coufin.

K. John. Coz, farewel.

Eli. Come hither little Kinfman, hark, a word.

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:

D

And,

And, my good Friend, thy voluntary Oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy Hand, I had a thing to fay,
But I will fit it with fome better tune.
By Heav'n, Hubert, I am almoft asham'd
To fay what good respect I have of thee.

Hub. I am much bounden to your Majefty.

K. John. Good Friend, thou haft no caufe to fay fo yet, But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er fo flow, Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to say, but let it go:

The Sun is in the Heav'n, and the proud Day,
Attended with the Pleasure of the World,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,
To give me Audience: If the midnight Bell
Did, with his iron Tongue and brazen Mouth,
Sound on into the drowfie Race of Night;
If this fame were a Church-yard where we ftand,
And thou poffeffed with a thousand Wrongs;
Or if that furly Spirit, Melancholy,

Had bak'd thy Blood, and made it heavy, thick,
Which elfe runs trickling up and down the Veins,
Making that idiot Laughter keep Mens Eyes,
And ftrain their Cheeks to idle Merriment,
A Paffion hateful to my Purpofes;

Or if that thou couldst fee me without Eyes,
Hear me without thine Ears, and make reply
Without a Tongue, ufing Conceit alone,
Without Eyes, Ears, and harmful found of words;
Then, in defpight of brooded watchful Day,
I would into thy Bofom pour my Thoughts:
But, ah, I will not, yet I love thee well,
And by my troth I think thou lov❜ft me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my Death were adjunct to my A&,
By Heav'n I would do it.

K. John. Do not I know thou wouldft?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine Eye
On yon young Boy: I'll tell thee what, my Friend,
He is a very Serpent in my way,

And wherefoe'er this Foot of mine doth tread,

He

He lyes before me; doft thou understand me?

Thou art his Keeper.

Hub. And I'll keep him fo,

That he shall not offend your Majefty,

K. John. Death.

Hub. My Lord?

K. John. A Grave,

Hub. He fhall not live.

K. John. Enough.

I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee,
Well, I'll not fay what I intend for thee
Remember Madam, fare you well.
I'll fend thofe Powers o'er to your Majefty,
Eli. My Bleffing go with thee.

K. John. For England, Coufin, go.
Hubert shall be your Man, to attend on you
With ali true Duty; on toward Callice, hoa.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpho, and Attendants.

K. Philip. So by a roaring Tempeft on the Flood, A whole Armado of convicted Sail

Is fcatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well.
K. Philip. What can go well, when we have run fo ill?
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers loft?

Arthur's ta'en Prifoner? Divers dear Friends flain?
And bloody England into England gone,

O'er-bearing Interruption, fpight of France.

Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd:
So hot a Speed, with fuch Advice difpes'd,
Such temperate Order in fo fierce a Caufe,
Doth want Example; who hath read, or heard
Of any kindred-Action like to this?

K. Philip. Well could I bear that England had this Praife, So we could find fome Pattern of our Shame.

Enter Conftance.

Look, who comes here? A Grave unto a Soul,

Holding th'eternal Spirit against her Will,