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And make a monster of you.

Bast. Ha! majesty, how high thy glory towers, Aust.

Peace! no more.

When the rich blood of kings is set on fire.
Bast. O! tremble, for you hear the lion roar. O! now doth death line his dead chaps with steel;

K. John. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
In best appointment all our regiments.

And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
Bast. Speed, then, to take advantage of the field. In undetermin'd differences of kings.-
K. Phi. It shall be so ;-[To Lewis.] and at the Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
other hill

Cry, havock, kings ! back to the stained field,
Command the rest to stand.-God and our right! You equal potent, fire-ykindled spirits !

(Exeunt. Then let confusion of one part confirm SCENE II.-The Same.

The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!

K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? Alarums and Excursions ; then a Retreat. Enter a

K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England who's your king? French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.

Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.
F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates, K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in,

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
Who by the hand of France this day hath made And bear procession of our person here;
Much work for tears in many an English mother, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground: Cit. A greater power than we denies all this;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,

And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth,

Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates, And victory, with little loss, doth play

Kings of our fear; until our fear, resolv'd, Upon the dancing banners of the French,

Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd. Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,

Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout To enter conquerors, and to proclaim

you, kings, Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours. And stand securely on their battlements,

Enter an English Herald, with trumpets. As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
E.Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Your royal presences be rul'd by me:
Commander of this hot malicious day.

Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood. Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town.
There stuck no plume in any English crest,

By east and west let France and England mount
That is remov'd by any staff of France:

Their battering cannon, charg'd to the mouths,
Our colours do return in those same hands,

Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd dowr.
That did display them when we first march'd forth; The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come

I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,

Even till unfenced desolation Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes.

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. Open your gates, and give the victors way.

That done, dissever your united strengths, Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, And part your mingled colours once again ; From first to last, the onset and retire

Turn face to face, and bloody point to point; Of both your armies; whose equality

Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
By our best eyes cannot be censured:

Out of one side her happy minion,
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows; To whom in favour she shall give the day,
Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted And kiss him with a glorious victory.
power:

How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Both are alike; and both alike we like.

Smacks it not something of the policy?
One must prove greatest:, while they weigh so even, K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
We hold our town for neither, yet for both.

I like it well.-France, shall we knit our powers,
Enter, at one side, King John, with his power, Elinor, And lay this Angiers even with the ground,

Blanch, and the Bastard; at the other, King Philip, Then, after, fight who shall be king of it?
Lewis, Austria, and forces.

Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town, away?

Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, Say, shall the current of our right roam on?

As we will ours, against these saucy walls;
Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,

And when that we have dash'd them to the ground,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell Why, then defy each other, and, pell-mell,
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, Make work upon ourselves for heaven, or hell.
Unless thou let his silver waters keep

K. Phi. Let it be so.-Say, where will you assault.
A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. John. We from the west will send destruction
K.Phi. England, thou hast not sav'done drop of blood, Into this city's bosom.
In this hot trial, more than we of France ;

Aust. I from the north.
Rather, lost more: and by this hand I swear,

K. Phi.

Our thunder from the south, That sways the earth this climate overlooks,

Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,

Bast. O, prudent discipline! From north to south, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth. [Aside. Or add a royal number to the dead,

I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away! Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,

Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to stay, With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. And I shall show you peace, and fair-fac'd league;

DIBLIOTECA

DERECHO Win

you
this city without stroke, or wound;

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,

For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, That here come sacrifices for the field.

And all that we upon this side the sea, Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

(Except this city now by us besieg'd) K. John. Speak on, with favour: we are bent to hear. Find liable to our crown and dignity,

Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch, Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich Is niece to England : look upon the years

In titles, honours, and promotions, Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid. As she in beauty, education, blood, If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,

Holds hand with any princess of the world. Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?

K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face. If zealous love should go in search of virtue,

Lew. I do, my lord; and in her eye I find
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,

The shadow of myself form'd in her eye,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,

Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow. Is the young Dauphin every way complete :

I do protest, I've never lov'd myself, If not complete of, say, he is not she;

Till now infixed I behold myself And she again wants nothing, to name want,

Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. If want it be not, that she is not he:

[Whispers with Blanch. He is the half part of a blessed man,

Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye, Left to be finished by such a she ;

Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, And she a fair divided excellence,

And quarter'd in her heart, he doth espy Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.

Himself love's traitor: this is pity now, 0! two such silver currents, when they join, That hang’d, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be, Do glorify the banks that bound them in;

In such a love, so vile a lout as he. And two such shores to two such streams made one, Blanch. My uncle's will in this respect is mine: Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, If he see aught in you, that makes him like, To these two princes, if you marry them.

That any thing he sees, which moves his liking, This union shall do more than battery can

I can with ease translate it to my will;
To our fast-closed gates; for, at this match,

Or if you will, to speak more properly,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, I will enforce it easily to my love.
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,

Farther I will not flatter you, my lord,
And give you entrance; but, without this match, That all I see in you is worthy love,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,

Than this,—that nothing do I see in you, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks

Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your More free from motion : no, not death himself

judge, In mortal fury half so peremptory,

That I can find should merit any hate. As we to keep this city.

K. John. What say these young ones? What say Bast. Here's a stay,

you, my niece? That shakes the rotten carcase of old death

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas; K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin: can you love Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,

this lady? As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love, What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?

For I do love her most unfeignedly. He speaks plain cannon-fire, and smoke, and bounce ; K.John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, He gives the bastinado with his tongue :

Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, Our ears are cudgell d; not a word of his,

With her to thee; and this addition more, But buffets better than a fist of France.

Full thirty thousand marks of English coin. Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words, Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Since I first callid my brother's father dad.

Command thy son and daughter to join hands. Eli. Son, list to this conjunction; make this match; K. Phi. It likes us well.--Young princes, close Give with our niece a dowry large enough,

[They join hands. For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie

Aust. And your lips too; for, I am well-assur'd, Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown,

That I did so, when I was first assur'd. That yond' green boy shall have no sun to ripe

K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.

Let in that amity which you have made;
I see a yielding in the looks of France;

For at saint Mary's chapel presently
Mark, how they whisper: urge them while their souls The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd. -
Are capable of this ambition,

Is not the lady Constance in this troop?
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath

I know, she is not; for this match, made up, Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,

Her presence would have interrupted much. Cool and congeal again to what it was.

Where is she and her son ? tell me, who knows. Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. This friendly treaty of our threaten’d town?

K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we have K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward made, first

Will give her sadness very little cure.To speak unto this city: what say you?

Brother of England, how may we content K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, This widow'd lady? In her right we came, Can in this book of beauty read, I love,

Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way,

your hands.

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To our own vantage.

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity,
K. John.
We will heal up all;

Commodity, the bias of the world;
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne, The world, who of itself is poised well,
And earl of Richmond, and this rich fair town Made to run even, upon even ground,
We make him lord of.-Call the lady Constance : Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
Some speedy messenger bid her repair

This sway of motion, this commodity,
To our solemnity.-I trust we shall,

Makes it take head from all indifferency, If not fill up the measure of her will,

From all direction, purpose, course, intent: Yet in some measure satisfy her so,

And this same bias, this commodity, That we shall stop her exclamation.

This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,

Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France, To this unlook'd for, unprepared pomp.

Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aim,
[Exeunt all but the Bastard.-The Citizens retire From a resolv'd and honourable war,
from the walls.

To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
Bast. Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition ! And why rail I on this commodity ?
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,

But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Hath willingly departed with a part;

Not that I have no power to clutch my hand, And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, When his fair angels would salute my palm; Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,

But for my hand, as unattempted yet, As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear

Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, That broker that still breaks the pate of faith, And say, there is no sin, but to be rich; That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,

And being rich, my virtue then shall be, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men maids, To say, there is no vice but beggary. Who having no external thing to lose

Since kings break faith upon commodity, But the word maid,-cheats the poor maid of that; Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I.—The Same. The French King's Tent.

This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, Enter ConstANCE, Arthur, and SALISBURY.

But spoke the harm that is by others done? Const. Gone to be married ? gone to swear a peace? Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends! As it makes harmful all that speak of it. Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard :

Const. If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again :

grim, It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so.

Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb, I trust, I may not trust thee, for thy word

Full of unpleasing blots, unsightly stains, Is but the vain breath of a common man :

Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Believe me, I do not believe thee, man:

Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, I have a king's oath to the contrary,

I would not care, I then would be content; Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,

For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou For I am sick, and capable of fears;

Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears ; But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy, A widow, husbandless, subject to fears ;

Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: A woman, naturally born to fears ;

Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest, And with the half-blown rose. But fortune, O! With my vex'd spirits, I cannot take a truce, She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee: But they will quake and tremble all this day. Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ; What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?

To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. Why holds thine eye thai lamentable rheum,

France is a bawd to fortune, and king John ; Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?

That strumpet fortune, that usurping John ! Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words ?

Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ? Then speak again; not all thy former tale,

Envenom him with words, or get thee gone,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false, Am bound to under-bear.
That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Sal.

Pardon me, madam, Const. Ó! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, I may not go without you to the kings. Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die;

Const. Thou may'st, thou sbalt: I will not go with thee. And let belief and life encounter so,

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, As doth the fury of two desperate men,

For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop. Which in the very meeting fall, and die.

To me, and to the state of my great grief, Lewis marry Blanch! o, boy! then where art thou? Let kings assemble ; for my grief's so great, France friend with England! what becomes of me ?- That no supporter but the huge firm earth Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight:

Can hold it up : here I and sorrows sit;

Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. And from Pope Innocent the legate here,

[She sits on the ground. Do in his name religiously demand, Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, BLANCH, Why thou against the church, our holy mother,

Elinor, Bastard, Austria, and Attendants. So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce, K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day, Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop Ever in France shall be kept festival :

Of Canterbury, from that holy see? To solemnize this day, the glorious sun

This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist,

Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :

Can task the free breath of a sacred king ? The yearly course, that brings this day about, Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name Shall never see it but a holyday.

So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day! [Rising. To charge me to an answer, as the pope. What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done, Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England, That it in golden letters should be set,

Add thus much more,—that no Italian priest Among the high tides, in the calendar ?

Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;

But as we under heaven are supreme head, This day of shame, oppression, perjury :

So, under heaven, that great supremacy, Or if it must stand still, let wives with child

Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,

Without th' assistance of a mortal hand. Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: So tell the pope; all reverence set apart But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;

To him, and his usurp'd authority. No bargains break, that are not this day made;

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. This day all things begun come to ill end;

K. John. Though you, and all the kings of ChristenYea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

dom, K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, To curse the fair proceedings of this day.

Dreading the curse that money may buy out, Have I not pawnd to you my majesty ?

And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself; Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn; Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led, You came in arins to spill mine enemies' blood, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours :

Yet i, alone, alone do me oppose The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war, Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. Is cold in amity and faint in peace,

Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have, And our oppression hath made up this league.- Thou shalt stand curs'd, and excommunicate : Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings ! And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt A widow cries: be husband to me, heavens!

From his allegiance to an heretic; Let not the hours of this ungodly day

And meritorious shall that hand be callid, Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset,

Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings ! That takes away by any secret course
Hear me ! O, hear me!

Thy hateful life.
Aust.
Lady Constance, peace ! Const.

0! lawful let it be,
Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. That I have room with Rome to curse awhile.
0, Lymoges ! O, Austria! thou dost shame

Good father Cardinal, cry thou amen
That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward; To my keen curses ; for without my wrong
Thou little valiant, great in villainy !

There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!

Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. Thou fortune’s champion, that dost never fight

Const. And for mine too : when law can do no right, But when her humorous ladyship is by

Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong. To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,

Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, For he that holds his kingdom holds the law : A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp, and swear, Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, Upon my party! Thou cold blooded slave,

How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ? Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?

Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend

Let the hand of that arch-heretic,
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength? And raise the power of France upon his head,
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?

Unless he do submit himself to Rome.
Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame,

Eli. Look'st thou pale, France ? do not let go thy And hang a calf s-skin on those recreant limbs.

hand. Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to me! Const. Look to that, devil, lest that France repent, Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. And by disjoining hands hell lose a soul. Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. K. John. We like not this : thou dost forget thyself. Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Enter PANDULPH.

BecauseK. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. Bast. Your breeches best may carry them.

Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven. K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal ? To thee, king John, my holy errand is.

Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal? I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,

Lew. Bethink you, father; for the difference

go

Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,

And being not done, where doing tends to ill, Or the light loss of England for a friend :

The truth is then most done not doing it. Forego the easier.

The better act of purposes mistook Blanch.

That's the curse of Rome. Is to mistake again: though indirect, Const. O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee here, Yet indirection thereby grows direct, In likeness of a new uptrimmed bride.

And falsehood falsehood cures; as fire cools fire Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from herfaith, Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. But from her need.

It is religion that doth make vows kept, Const. 0! if thou grant my need,

But thou hast sworn against religion, Which only lives but by the death of faith,

By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou swear’st, That need must needs infer this principle,

And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth,
That faith would live again by death of need : Against an oath : the truth, thou art unsure
0! then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up; To swear, swears only not to be forsworn;
Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down. Else, what a mockery should it be to swear?

K. John. The king is mov'd, and answers not to this. But thou dost swear only to be forsworn;
Const, O! be remov'd from him, and answer well. And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear.
Aust. Do so, king Philip: hang no more in doubt. Therefore, thy later vows, against thy first,
Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. Is in thyself rebellion to thyself;
K. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what to say. And better conquest never canst thou make,
Pand. What canst thou say, but will perplex thee Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
more,

Against these giddy loose suggestions:
If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd ?

Upon which better part our prayers come in, K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person yours, If thou vouchsafe them; but, if not, then know, And tell me how you would bestow yourself. The peril of our curses lights on thee, This royal hand and mine are newly knit,

So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off, And the conjunction of our inward souls

But in despair die under their black weight. Married in league, coupled and link'd together

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion ! With all religious strength of sacred vows;

Bast.

Will't not be ? The latest breath that gave the sound of words, Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ? Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love,

Lew. Father, to arms Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves;

Blanch.

Upon thy wedding day? And even before this truce, but new before,

Against the blood that thou hast married ? No longer than we well could wash our hands, What! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ? To clap this royal bargain up of peace,

Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums, Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp? With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint O husband, hear me!-ah, alack! how new The fearful difference of incensed kings :

Is husband in my mouth !—even for that name, And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,

Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms [Kneeling. Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet?

Against mine uncle. Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, Const.

O! upon my knee, [Kneeling. Make such unconstant children of ourselves,

Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm; Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom
Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage bed Fore-thought by heaven.
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,

Blanch. Now shall I see thy love. What motive may And make a riot on the gentle brow

Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? Of true sincerity? O! holy sir,

Const. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, My reverend father, let it not be so:

His honour. O! thine honour, Lewis, thine honour. Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose

Lew. I muse, your majesty doth seem so cold, Some gentle order, and then we shall be bless'd When such profound respects do pull you on. To do your pleasure, and continue friends.

Pand. I will denounce a curse upon his head. Pand, All form is formless, order orderless,

K. Phi. Thou shalt not need.-England, I'll fall Save what is opposite to England's love.

from thee.
Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, Const. O, fair return of banish'd majesty!
Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, Eli. O, foul revolt of French inconstancy !
A mother's curse, on her revolting son.

K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour within France, thou may’st hold a serpent by the tongue,

this hour. A caged lion by the mortal paw,

Bast. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,

Time,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. Is it as he will ? well then, France shall rue.

K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood : fair day, adieu!

Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; Which is the side that I must go withal ? And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath,

I am with both : each army hath a hand, Thy tongue against thy tongue. 0! let thy vow And in their rage, I having hold of both, First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd; They whirl asunder, and dismember me. That is, to be the champion of our church.

Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win; What since thou swor’st is sworn against thyself, Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st lose; And may not be performed by thyself:

Father, I may not wish the fortune thine ; For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss,

Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: Is but amiss when it is truly done;

Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose;

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