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 'forsaid 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 heav'n are supreme 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 rev'rence set apart
To him and his usurp'd authority.

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

K. John.
Tho' you and all the Kings of Christendom
Are led so grosly by this medling Priest,
Dreading the curse, that mony may buy out;
And buy ^note the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,

Who in that sale sells pardon from himself:
Tho' 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 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-heretick;
And raise the pow'r 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.

Faulc.
And hang a calve's-skin on his recreant limbs.

Aust.
Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,
Because—

Faulc.
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's the curse of Rome.

Const.
Lewis, stand fast; the Devil tempts thee here
In likeness of ^{2 note}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.

Faulc.
Hang nothing but a calve's-skin, most sweet lout.

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

Pand.
What can'st thou say, but will perplex thee more,
If thou stand excommunicate and curst?

K. Philip.
Good rev'rend 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
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 of peace,
Heav'n knows, they were besmear'd and over-stain'd
With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint
The fearful diff'rence 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 heav'n?
Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm?
Un-swear 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 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 chafed lyon 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 thyself;
And may not be performed by thyself.
For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss,
^{3 note}

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 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.

Faulc.
Will't not be?
Will not a calve's-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; (ah! alack, how new
Is husband in my mouth?) ev'n 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
Forethought 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'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.

Faulc.
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 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:
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose:
Assured loss, before the match be play'd.

Lewis.
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 Faulconbridge.
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 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. [Exeunt.

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