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Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
This day of fhame, oppreffion, perjury:
Or if it must stand ftill, let wives with child
Pray that their burthens may not fall this day,
Left that their hopes prodigiously be croft:
Except this day, let feamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break, that are not this day made;
This day all things begun come to ill end,
Yea, faith it felf to hollow falfhood change!

K. Philip. By heaven, Lady, you shall have no caufe
To curfe the fair proceedings of this day:
Have I not pawn'd to you my Majefty?

Conft. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Refembling Majefty, which touch'd and try'd
Proves valueless: you are forfworn, forfworn.
You came in arms to spill my enemies blood,
But now in arms, you ftrengthen it with yours.
The grapling vigour and rough frown of war
Is cool'd in amity and painted peace,
And our oppreffion hath made up this league.
Arm, arm, ye heav'ns, against these perjur'd Kings!
A widow cries, be husband to me, heav'n!

Let not the hours of this ungodly day

Wear out the day in peace; but ere fun-fet,
Set armed difcord 'twixt these perjur'd Kings.
Hear me, oh hear me!

Auft. Lady Conftance, peace.

Conft. War, war, no peace; peace is to me a war! O Lymoges, O Auftria! thou doft fhame

That bloody (poil: thou flave, thou wretch, thou cowardy
Thou little valiant, great in villainy :

Thou ever ftrong upon the ftronger fide;
Thou fortune's champion, that doft never fight
But when her humourous Ladyship is by
To teach thee fafety; thou art perjur'd too,
And footh'ft up greatnefs. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool, to brag, to ftamp, and fwear,
Upon my party; thou cold-blooded flave,
Haft thou not spoke like thunder on my fide,
Been fworn my foldier, bidding me depend
VOL. IV.

T

Upon thy ftars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And doft thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a Lion's hide! doff it for fhame,
And hang a calve's-fkin on thofe recreant limbs.
Auft. O that a man would speak those words to me!
Baft. And hang a calve's-fkin on those recreant limbs,
Auft. Thou dar'ft not fay fo, villain, for thy life.
Baft. And hang a calve's-fkin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. Methinks that Richard's pride and Richard's fall
Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.

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Baft. What words are these? how do my finews shake!
My father's foe clad in my father's spoil !
How doth Alecto whisper in my ears,
Delay not, Richard, kill the villain ftrait,
Difrobe bim of the matchless monument,
Thy father's triumph o'er the favages!
Now by his foul I fwear, my father's foul,
Twice will I not review the morning's rife,
'Till I have torn that trophy from thy back,
And split thy heart, for wearing it fo long.

K. John. We like not this, thou doft forget thy felf.
SCENE III. Enter Pandulph.

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 doft fpurn, and force perforce
Keep Stephen Langton, chofen Archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy See?
This in our forefaid holy father's name
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories
Can tax the free breath of a facred King?
Thou canst not, Cardinal, devife a name
So flight, unworthy, and ridiculous,
To charge me to an answer, as the Pope.
Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England

Add

Add thus much more, that no Italian priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions :
But as we under heav'n are fupreme head,
So, under it, that great fupremacy
Where we do reign we will alone uphold,
Without th' affiftance of a mortal hand.
So tell the Pope, all rev'rence fet apart
To him and his ufurp'd authority.

K. Philip. Brother of England, you blafpheme in this. K. John. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom Are led fo grofly by this medling priest,

Dreading the curfe that mony may buy out;
And by the merit of vile gold, drofs, duft,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that fale fells pardon from himself :
Though you, and all the reft fo grofly led,
This jugling witchcraft with revenue cherish,
Yet I alone, alone, do me oppofe

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Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pand. Then by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt ftand curs'd, and excommunicate;
And bleffed fhall he be that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretick,
And meritorious fhall that hand be call'd,
Canonized and worshipp'd as a Saint,
That takes away by any fecret course

Thy hateful life.

Conft. O, lawful let it be

That I have leave with Rome to curfe a while.

Good father Cardinal, cry thou Amen

To my keen curfes; for without my wrong

There is no tongue hath pow'r to curfe him right.

Pand. There's law and warrant, Lady, for my curse.
Conft. 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 fince law it felf is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curfe?
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curfe,

Let

Let go the hand of that Arch-heretick,

And raise the pow'r of France upon his head,

Unless he do fubmit himfelf to Rome.

Eli. Look'ft thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand. Conft. Look to that, devil! left that France repent, And by disjoining hands hell lofe a foul.

Auft. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.

Baft. And hang a calve's-fkin on his recreant limbs. Auft. Well, ruffian, I muft pocket up these wrongs, Becaufe

Baft. Your breeches beft may carry them.

K. Jobn. Philip, what fay't thou to the Cardinal?
Conft. What should he fay, but as the Cardinal?
Lewis. Bethink you, father; for the difference
Is purchase of a heavy curfe from Rome,

Or the light lofs of England for a friend;
Forego the eafier.

Blanch. That's the curfe of Rome.

Conft. Lewis, ftand faft, the devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new and trimmed bride. *

K. Philip. I am perplext, and know not what to say. Pand. What can't thou fay, but will perplex thee more, If thou ftand excommunicate and curs'd

K. Philip. Good rev'rend father, make my perfon yours, And tell me how you would bestow your felf: This royal hand and mine are newly knit, And the conjunction of our inward fouls Marry'd in league, coupled and link'd together With all religious ftrength of facred vows :

#------- a new and trimmed bride.

Blanch. The Lady Conftance fpeaks not from her faith: But from her need.

Conf. 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 anfwers not to this.
Conft. O, be remov'd from him; and answer well.
Auft. Do fo, King Philip, hang no more in doubt.
Bat. Hang nothing but a calve's-skin, moft fweet lout.
K. Philip. I am perplext, &c.

The

The lateft breath that gave the found of words,
Was deep-fworn faith, peace, amity, true love
Between our kingdoms and our royal felves..
And ev'n 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 befmear'd and over-ftain'd
With flaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint
The fearful diff'rence of incenfed Kings.
And shall these hands, fo lately purg'd of blood,
So newly join'd in love, fo ftrong in both,
Unyoke this feifure, and this kind regreet?
Play faft and loose with faith? fo jeft with heav'n,
Make fuch unconftant children of our felves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm?
Unfwear faith fworn, and on the marriage-bed
Of fmiling peace to march a bloody hoft,
And make a riot on the gentle brow
Of true fincerity? O holy Sir,

My reverend father, let it not be fo;
Out of your grace, devife, ordain, impose
Some gentle order, and we fhall be bleft
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.
Pand. All form is formless, order orderless,
Save what is oppofite to England's love.
Therefore to arms! be champion of our church!
Or let the church our mother breathe her curfe,
A mother's curfe on her revolting fon.

France, thou may'ft hold a ferpent by the tongue,
A chafed Lion by the mortal paw,

A fafting Tyger fafer by the tooth,

Than keep in peace that hand which thou doft hold.
K. Philip. I may dif-join my hand, but not my faith.
Pand. So mak'ft thou faith an enemy to faith;

And like a civil war fet'ft 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 cur church.
What fince thou fwor'ft, is fworn against thy self,
And may not be performed by thy felf,

For

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