K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.

K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine,
Maine,

Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee; and this addition more:
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.-
Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
K. Phi. It likes us well;-Young princes, close
your hands.

Aust. And your lips too! for I am well assur'd,
That I did so, when I was first assur'd.

K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your
gates,

Let in that amity which you have made;
For at St. Mary's chapel, presently,
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd.-
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop 7-
I know, she is not; for this match, made up,
Her presence would have interrupted much-
Where is she and her son 7 tell me, who knows.
Lew. She is sad and passionate at your high-

ness' tent.

K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league that
we have made,

Will give her sadness very little cure.-
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady ? In her right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turn'd another

way,

To our own vantage.
K. John.

We will heal up all;
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,
And earl of Richmond: and this rich fair town
We make him lord of.-Call the Lady Con-
stance;

Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity :-I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook'd for unprepared pomp.
[Exeunt all but the Bastard-The Citizens
retire from the Walls.
Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad

sition !

provinces

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 ;
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;

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.
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?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again: not all thy former tale,
compo-But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:
And France, (whose armour conscience buckled

on ;

Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier,) rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil;
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith;
That daily break-vow: he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men,
maids,-

Who having no external thing to lose

But the word maid,-cheats the poor maid of that;

That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commo-
dity;-

Commodity the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even, upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.-
And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,

Sal. As true, as, believe, you think them

false,

That give you cause to prove my saying true.
Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sor

row,

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.-
Lewis marry Blanch! O, boy, then where art
thou?

France friend with England! what becomes of
me 7-

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,
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,

Ugly, and sland'rous 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;
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 may'st with lilies boast,

Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out; And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn; Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself: But now in arms you strengthen it with yours; Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led, The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish: Is cold in amity and painted peace,, And our oppression hath made up this league: Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings!

Const. And for mine too; when law can do | And make a riot on the gentle brow

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 power of France upon his head,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome.

Eli Look'st thou pale, France 7 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

Of true sincerity 7 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 may'st hold a serpent by the tongue,
A cased 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 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
First made to heaven, first be to heaven per-
form'd;

Bast. Your breeches best may carry them.
K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the car-That is, to be the champion of our church!
dinal?

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.

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,

Blanch. The Lady Constance speaks not from Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd.

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 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.

K. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what to

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,
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
stain'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, 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 7
Will not a calf-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,-

nounce,

Clamours of hell,-be measures to our pomp?
O husband, hear ine!-ah, alack! how new
Is husband in my mouth!-even for that name,
over-Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pro-
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.

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 seizure, and this kind regreet?
Play fast and loose with faith 7 so jest with
heaven,

Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm;
Urswear faith sworn; and on the marriage bed
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,"

Blanch. Now shall I see thy love; What mo

tive may

Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? Const. That which upholdeth him that thes upholds,

And pours down mischief. Austria's head, lie But ah, I will not:-Yet I love thee well;

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter King
John, Elinor, Arthur, the Bastard, Hubert, and
Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay
behind,
[To Elinor.
So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:
[To Arthur.
Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will
As dear be to thee as thy father was.
Arth. O, this will make my mother die with
grief.

K. John. Cousin [To the Bastard,] away for
England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, sce thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots: imprisoned angels
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force.

A whole armado of convicted sail

Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.
Pand. Courage and comfort! all shall yet go

well.

K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run
BO ill?

Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain
And bloody England into England gone,
O'erbearing interruption, spite of France ?
Lew. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause,
Doth want example; Who hath read, or heard,
Of any kindred action like to this 7

K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had
this praise,

So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Enter Constance.

Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul;
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath:
1 pr'ythee, lady, go away with me.

Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your
peace!

K. Phi. Patience, good lady! comfort, gentle
Constance!

Const. No, I defy all counsel, all redress,
But that which ends all counsel, true redress,
Death, death:-O amiable lovely death!
Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness!
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones;
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows;
And ring these fingers with thy household

worms;

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust,
And be a carrion monster like thyself:
Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st,
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love,
O, come to me!

K. Phi.

O fair affliction, peace.

Const. No, no, I will not, having breath to
cry:-

O, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth!
Then with a passion would I shake the world
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy,
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice,
Which scorns a modern invocation.
Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and

sorrow.

not

Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so;
I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine;
My name is Constance: I was Geffrey's wife;
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost:
I am not niad :-I would to heaven, I were!
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself:
O, if I could, what grief should I forget!-
Preach some philosophy to make me mad,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal;
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief,
My reasonable part produces reason
How I may be deliver'd of these woes,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself:
If I were mad, I should forget my son;
Or madly think, a babe of clonts were he;
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel
The different plague of each calamity.

I tore them from their bonds; and cried aloud,
O that these hands could so redeem my son,
As they have given these hairs their liberty !
But now I envy at their liberty,

And will again commit them to their bonds,
Because my poor child is a prisoner.
And, father cardinal, I have heard you say,
? That we shall see and know our friends in
heaven;

If that be true, I shall see my boy again;
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child,
To him that did but yesterday suspire,
There was not such a gracious creature born.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud,
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost;
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit;
And so he'll die; and, rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him: therefore never, never
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more.
Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief
Const. He talks to me, that never had a son.
K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your
child.

Const. Grief fills the room up of my absent
child,

Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me;
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief.
Fare you well: had you such a loss as I,
I could give better comfort than you do.
I will not keep this form upon my head,

[Tearing off her head-dress.
When there is such disorder in my wit.
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son!
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world
My widow-comfort, and iny sorrow's cure!

her.

Exit

K. Phi. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow
[Exit.
Lew. There's nothing in this world can make
me joy;

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's

taste,

That it yields nought, but shame and bitterness.
Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease,
Even in the instant of repair and health,
The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave,
On their departure most of all show evil:"
What have you lost by losing of this day?
Lew. All days of glory, joy, and happiness.
Pand. If you nad won it, certainly, you had.
No, no: when fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
'Tis strange, to think how much King John hath
lost

In this which he accounts so clearly won:
Are not you griev'd, that Arthur is his prisoner?
Lew. As heartily, as he is glad he hath him.
Pand. Your mind is all as youthful as your
blood.

Now hear me speak, with a prophetic spirit;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak
Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little
rub,

k. Phi. Bind up those tresses; O, what love I Out of the path which shall directly lead

note

In the fair multitude of those her hairs!
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends
Do glew themselves in sociable grief;
Like true, inseparable, faithful loves,
Sticking together in calamity.
Const. To England, if you will.
K. Phi.
Bind up your hairs.
Const. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I
do it?

Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore,
mark.

John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be,
That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's

veins,

The misplac'd John should entertain an hour,
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest:
A sceptre, snatch'd with an unruly hand,
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd:
And he, that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up: