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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 heaven, first be to heaven perform’d; That is, to be the champion of our church! What since thou sworst, 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;4 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, Within the scorched 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, 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:
+ Is not amiss, when it is truly done;] i. e. that, which you have sworn to do amiss, is not amiss, (i. e. becomes right) when it is done truly (that is, as he explains it, not done at all;) and being not done, where it would be a sin to do it, the truth is most done when
you do it not: Other parts of this speech have puzzled the commentators, who have, in turn, puzzled their readers.
Upon which better part our prayers come in,
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion !
Will't not be? Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine?
Lew. Father, to arms!
Upon thy wedding day?
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!-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.
upon my knee, Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Fore-thought by heaven. 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: 0, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour !
Lew. 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.
be measures-] The measures, it has already been more than once observed, were a species of solemn dance in our author's time.
I muse,] i. e. I wonder. YOL. IV.
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! 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,
Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune lies.
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, Than nothing can allay, nothing but blood, 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!
Alarums, Excursions. Enter the Bastard, with
AUSTRIA's Head. Bast. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous
hot; Some airy devil hovers in the sky, And pours
down mischief. Austria's head lie there; While Philip breathes.
Enter King John, Arthur, and HUBERT.
My lord, I rescu'd her;
Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter King John,
ELINOR, Arthur, the Bastard, HUBERT, and
[To ELINOR. So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:
Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will
grief. K. John. Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for
England; haste before: And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; angels imprisoned Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed upon: Use our commission in his utmost force. Bast. Bell, book, and candle? shall not drive me
Eli. Farewell, iny gentle cousin.
[Exit Bastard. Eli. Come hither, little kinsinan; hark, a word.
She takes ARTHUR aside. K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty.
7 Bell, book, and candle-] In an account of the Romish surse given by Dr. Grey, it appears that three candles were extinguished, one by one, in different parts of the execration.