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

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 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 perplex'd, 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 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
* Unsullied.

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 purged of blood,
So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regret ?*
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.

France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue,
A chafed 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 makest 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 perform'd;
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 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

* Exchange of salutation.

2

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;

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 men?
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums,—
Clamours of hell,-be measures* to our pomp?
O 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 pronounce,
Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms

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, His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour! 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 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 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;
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.

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.

[Exit BASTARD.

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!

SCENE II.-The same.

Plains near Angiers.

[Exeunt.

Alarums, Excursions. -Enter the BASTARD, with AUSTRIA'S

head.

Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky,

And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there:
While Philip breathes.

Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT.

K. John. Hubert, keep this boy :-Philip, make up: My mother is assailed in our tent,

And ta'en, I fear.

Bast. My lord, I rescued her;

Her highness is in safety, fear you not:
But on, my liege: for very little pains
Will bring this labour to a happy end.

SCENE III.-The same.

[Exeunt.

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat.—Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the Bastard, HUBERT, and Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind,

So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:
Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will

As dear be to thee as thy father was.

[TO ELINOR.

[To ARTHUR.

Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.

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

before:

* Force.

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots; angels* imprison'd
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. Omy 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 ashamed 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:

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,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 baked thy blood, and made it heavy, thick
(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
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.

*The coin.

† Showy ornaments.

+ Conception.