K. Philip.
'Tis 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 meager cloddy Earth to glittering Gold:
The yearly course that brings this Day about,
Shall never see it, but a Holy-day.

Const.
A wicked Day, and not a holy Day.
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 crost:
But, on this Day, let Seamen fear no Wrack,
No Bargains break that are not this Day made;
This Day all things begun, come to ill End,
Yea, Faith it self, to hollow Falshood change.

K. Philip.
By Heav'n 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 try'd,
Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn,
You came in Arms to spill my Enemies Blood,
But now in Arms, you strengthen it with yours.
The grapling Vigour, and rough frown of War
Is cold in Amity and painted Peace,
And our Oppression hath made up this League:
Arm, Arm, you Heav'ns, against these perjur'd Kings,
A Widow cries, be Husband to me, Heav'ns,
Let not the Hours of this ungodly Day

Wear out the Days in Peace; but e'er Sun-set,
Set armed Discord 'twixt these perjur'd Kings.
Hear me, oh, 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 perjur'd too,
And sooth'st up Greatness. What a Fool art thou,
A ramping Fool, to brag, to 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'st a Lion's Hide? Doff it for shame,
And hang a Calves-skin on those recreant Limbs.

Aust.
O that a Man should speak those words to me.

Bast.
And hang a Calves-skin on those recreant Limbs.

Aust.
Thou dar'st not say so, Villain, for thy Life.

Bast.
And hang a Calves-skin on those recreant Limbs.

K. John.
We like not this, thou dost forget thy self. Enter Pandulph.

K. Philip.
Here comes the holy Legate of the Pope.

Pand.
Hail, you anointed Deputies of Heav'n;
To thee, King John, my holy Errand is:
I Pandulph of fair Milain 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 earthy Name to Interrogatories
Can taste 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 Heav'n, are supream Head,
So under him that great Supremacy
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold
Without th' Assistance of a mortal Hand:
So tell the Pope, all Reverence set apart
To him and his usurp'd Authority.

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

K. John.
Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom
Are led so grosly by this medling Priest,
Dreading the Curse that Mony 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 grosly led,
This jugling Witch-craft 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 Curst, and Excommunicate,
And blessed shall he be that doth revolt
From his Allegiance to an Heretick,
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 it self 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-heretick,
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 Calves-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?

Lewis.
Bethink you Father, for the difference
Is purchase of a heavy Curse from Rome,
Or the light loss of England for a Friend:
Forgo the easier.

Blanch.
That is 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.
Oh, 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 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 Calves-skin, most sweet Lout.

K. Philip.
I am perplext, and know not what to say.

Pand.
What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more,
If thou stand Excommunicate, and Curst?

K. Philip.
Good reverend Father, make my Person yours,
And tell me how you would bestow your self?
This Royal Hand and mine are newly knit,

And the Conjunction of our inward Souls
Marry'd 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 in Peace,
Heav'n knows they were besmear'd and over stain'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 seisure, and this kind regreet?
Play fast and loose with Faith? So jest with Heav'n,
Make such unconstant Children of our selves,
As now again to snatch our Palm from Plam?
Un-swear Faith sworn, and on the Marriage-bed
Of smiling Peace to march a bloody Hoast,
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 blest
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 may'st hold a Serpent by the Tongue,
A cased Lion by the mortal Paw,
A fasting Tyger safer by the Tooth,
Than keep in Peace that Hand which thou dost hold.

K. Philip.
I may dis-join my Hand, but not my Faith.

Pand.
So mak'st 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 Heav'n, first be to Heav'n perform'd,
That is, to be the Champion of our Church.

What since thou swor'st, is sworn against thy self,
And may not be performed by thy 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,
And Falshood, Falshood cures, as Fire cools Fire
Within the scorching 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, 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 thy self Rebellion to thy self:
And better Conquest never canst thou make,
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler Parts
Against these giddy loose Suggestions:
Upon which better Part, our Pray'rs 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 Calves-skin stop that Mouth of thine?

Lewis.
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: Ay, 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 Heav'n.

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. Oh thine Honour, Lewis, thine Honour.

Lewis.
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. Philip.
Thou shalt not need. England, I will 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 whurle asunder, and dismember me.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win:
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st lose:
Father, I may not wish the Fortune thine:
Grandam, I will not wish thy Wishes thrive:
Who ever wins, on that side shall I lose:
Assured loss, 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.
Cousin, go draw our Puissance together.
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 valu'd Blood of France.

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

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

Next section