Are capable of this ambition:
Lest zeal, now melted, by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: What say you?
K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy
princely son,
Can in this book of beauty read, I love,
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:
For Anjou, and Fair Touraine, Maine, Poic-
And all that we upon this side the sea [tiers,
(Except this city now by us besieg'd)
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phil. What say'st thou, boy? look in the
lady's face.
Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow:
I do protest, I never lov'd myself,
Till now infixed I beheld myself,
Drawn in the flattering table* of her eye.
[Whispers with BLANCH.
Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her
[brow!
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her And quarter'd in her heart!-he doth espy Himself love's traitor: This is pity now, That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be,
Ia such a love, so vile a lout as he.
Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect is
If he see aught in you, that makes him like,
That any thing he sees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or, if you will, (to speak more properly,)
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this, that nothing do I see in you,
(Though churlish thoughts themselves should
be your judge.)
That I can find should merit any hate.
K. John. What say these young ones? What
say you, my niece?
Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say. K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?
Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; For I do love her most unfeignedly.
K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, With her to thee; and this addition more, Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands, K. Phi. It likes us well;-Young princes, close your hands.
Aust. And your lips too; for, I am well assur'd,
That I did so, when I was first assur'd,t
K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made;
For at Saint Mary's chapel, presently,
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd.-
Is not the lady Constance in this troop?—
I know, she is not; for this match, made up,
Her presence would have interrupted much?
Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows.
Lew. She is sad and passionate* at your
highness' tent.
K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we have made,
Will give her sadness very little cure.➡ Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came : Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way,
K. John. We will heal up all For we'll create young Arthur duke of BreAnd earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town We make him lord of.-Call the lady Constance; Some speedy messenger bid her repair To our solemnity:-1 trust we shall, If not fill up the measure of her will, Yet in some measure satisfy her so, That we shall stop her exclamation. Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, To this unlook'd for unprepared pomp.
[Exeunt all but the BASTARD.-The CITIZENS retire from the walls. Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:
And France, (whose armour conscience buck-
led on ;
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier,) roundedt in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly
devil;
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith;
That daily break-vow; he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men,
Who having no external thing to lose [that,
But the word maid,-cheats the poor maid of
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling com-
modity,
Commodity, the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peised|| well,
Made to run even, upon even ground:
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.-
And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch¶ my hand,
When his fair angels** would salute my palm:
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,
And say,-there is no sin, but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To say, there is no vice, but beggary:
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord! for I will worship thee!
[Exit.
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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 well 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 ath 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, husband ess, subject to ears;
A woman. naturally born to fears;
est,
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
Teac 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 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 As it makes harmful all that speak of it. is, Arth I do beseech, you, madam, be content. Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content. wert grim,
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd 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 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.
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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,
may not go without you to the kings. Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go
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:
Stays in his course, and plays the alchemist;
To solomnize this day, the glorious sun
The meagre cloudy earth to glittering gold:
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
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
l'hat it in golden letters should be set, done;
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 cross'd:
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;
Nor 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
To curse the fair proceedings of this day:
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty?
Const. You have beguilid me with a coun-
terfeit,
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'a
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!
fear me, O, hear me!
Aust. Lady Constance, peace.
Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me
But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too, du 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 re-
creant limbs.
Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for
thy life.
Bast. And hang a calf's skin on those re-
creant limbs.
K. John. We like not this: thou dost for-
get thyself.
K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the
[ven!
Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of hea-
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 interroga-
tories
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 [foes.
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;
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,
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
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.
[wrongs,
Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these
Because-
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 car-
dinal?
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,
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
Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down.
K. John. The king is mov'd, and answers
Pand. What canst thou say, but will per-
plex 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 toge-
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."
But, in despair, die under their black weight.
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion!
Bast. Will't not be?
Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves,; | So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off,
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 over-
stain'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
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, sett'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, [fire,
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;
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
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;
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
men?
[drums,-
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish
Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp?
O husband, hear me !-ab, alack, how new
Is husband in my mouth!-even for that name,
Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pro-
Upon 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
Forethought 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
[honour! His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine Lew. I muset your majesty doth seem so
When such profound respects do pull you on.
Pand. I will denounce à curse upon his head.
K. Phi. Thou shalt not need :-England, I'll
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
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, 1 needs must pray that thou may'st
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,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood, and dearest-valued blood of France.
K. Phi. Thy rage thall burn thee up, and
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.
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes;)
Or if that thou couldst 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 wouldst?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my
He is a very serpent in my way; [friend,
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
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.
K. John. Enough.
I could be merry now: Hubert, I love thee;
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 towards Calais, ho!
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.-The same.-The French King's
Tent.
K. John. Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard.
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a Enter King PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and
[She takes ARTHUR aside.
K. John. Come hither, Hubert, O, my gen-
tle 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
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K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the A whole armadot of convicted sail! 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.
Enter CONSTANCE.
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul,
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath :-
I pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.
Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your
peace!
K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gen tle Constance !
|