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France. The French King’s Tent. | |
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Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY, | |
| Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! | |
| False blood to false blood join’d! gone to be friends! | |
| Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? | 5 |
| 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: | 10 |
| Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; | |
| I have a king’s oath to the contrary. | |
| Thou shalt be punish’d for thus frighting me, | |
| For I am sick and capable of fears; | |
| Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; | 15 |
| A widow, husbandless, subject to fears; | |
| A woman, naturally born to fears; | |
| And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, | |
| With my vex’d spirits I cannot take a truce, | |
| But they will quake and tremble all this day. | 20 |
| 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 thine? | |
| Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, | |
| Like a proud river peering o’er his bounds? | 25 |
| Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? | |
| Then speak again; not all thy former tale, | |
| But this one word, whether thy tale be true. | |
| Sal. As true as I believe you think them false | |
| That give you cause to prove my saying true. | 30 |
| Const. O! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, | |
| Teach 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. | 35 |
| Lewis marry Blanch! O boy! then where art thou? | |
| France friend with England what becomes of me? | |
| 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, | 40 |
| But spoke the harm that is by others done? | |
| Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is | |
| As it makes harmful all that speak of it. | |
| Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. | |
| Const. If thou, that bidd’st me be content, wert grim, | 45 |
| Ugly and slanderous 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; | 50 |
| 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 mayst with lilies boast | 55 |
| 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, | 60 |
| And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. | |
| 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 | 65 |
| And leave those woes alone which I alone | |
| Am bound to underbear. | |
| Sal. Pardon me, madam, | |
| I may not go without you to the kings. | |
| Const. Thou mayst, thou shalt: I will not go with thee. | 70 |
| I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; | |
| For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop. | |
| 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 | 75 |
| Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; | |
| Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. [Seats herself on the ground. | |
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Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, the BASTARD, DUKE OF AUSTRIA, and Attendants. | |
| K. Phi. ’Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day | |
| Ever in France shall be kept festival: | 80 |
| To solemnize this day the glorious sun | |
| Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, | |
| Turning with splendour of his precious eye | |
| The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: | |
| The yearly course that brings this day about | 85 |
| Shall never see it but a holiday. | |
| Const. [Rising.] 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 calendar? | 90 |
| 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: | 95 |
| 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 itself to hollow falsehood change! | |
| K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause | 100 |
| 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 tried, | |
| Proves valueless: you are forsworn, forsworn; | 105 |
| 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. | 110 |
| Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur’d 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! | 115 |
| Hear me! O, 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! | 120 |
| 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, | 125 |
| And sooth’st up greatness. What a fool art thou, | |
| A ramping fool, to brag, and 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 | 130 |
| 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. | 135 |
| Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs. | |
| Aust. Thou dar’st not say so, villain, for thy life. | |
| Bast. And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs. | |
| K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget thyself. | |
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Enter PANDULPH. | 140 |
| K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. | |
| Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! | |
| To thee, King John, my holy errand is. | |
| I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, | |
| And from Pope Innocent the legate here, | 145 |
| 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? | 150 |
| This, in our foresaid 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 | 155 |
| 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; | 160 |
| 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 | 165 |
| 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; | 170 |
| 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; | 175 |
| 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 curs’d and excommunicate: | |
| And blessed shall he be that doth revolt | 180 |
| From his allegiance to a 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. | 185 |
| Const. O! lawful let it be | |
| That I have room with Rome to curse awhile. | |
| Good father cardinal, cry thou amen | |
| To my keen curses; for without my wrong | |
| There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. | 190 |
| 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: | 195 |
| 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, | 200 |
| 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. | 205 |
| 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 sayst thou to the cardinal? | 210 |
| 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. | 215 |
| 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. | 220 |
| 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; | 225 |
| 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 calf’s-skin, most sweet lout. | 230 |
| 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 curs’d? | |
| K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person yours, | |
| And tell me how you would bestow yourself. | 235 |
| 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 | 240 |
| 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, | 245 |
| 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 purg’d of blood, | |
| So newly join’d in love, so strong in both, | 250 |
| 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-bed | 255 |
| 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 | 260 |
| 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, | 265 |
| 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, | 270 |
| 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 | 275 |
| 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 | 280 |
| 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, | 285 |
| 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 | 290 |
| 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! | 295 |
| But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; | |
| And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. | |
| Therefore thy later vows against thy first | |
| Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; | |
| And better conquest never canst thou make | 300 |
| Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts | |
| Against these 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 | 305 |
| 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? | 310 |
| 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, | 315 |
| 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 | 320 |
| 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. | 325 |
| 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, | 330 |
| 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! | 335 |
| 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? | 340 |
| 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; | 345 |
| 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. | 350 |
| 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, | 355 |
| The blood, and dearest-valu’d blood of France. | |
| 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! [Exeunt. | 360 |
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