| KING JOHN: | |
| PRINCE HENRY | son to the king. |
| ARTHUR | Duke of Bretagne, nephew to the king. |
| The Earl of
PEMBROKE |
(PEMBROKE:) |
| The Earl of ESSEX | (ESSEX:) |
| The Earl of
SALISBURY |
(SALISBURY:) |
| The Lord BIGOT | (BIGOT:) |
| HUBERT DE BURGH | (HUBERT:) |
| ROBERT
FAULCONBRIDGE |
Son to Sir Robert Faulconbridge. (ROBERT:) |
| PHILIP the BASTARD | his half-brother. (BASTARD:) |
| JAMES GURNEY | servant to Lady Faulconbridge. (GURNEY:) |
| PETER Of Pomfret | a prophet. (PETER:) |
| PHILIP | King of France. (KING PHILIP:) |
| LEWIS | the Dauphin. |
| LYMOGES | Duke of AUSTRIA. (AUSTRIA:) |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | the Pope's legate. |
| MELUN | a French Lord. |
| CHATILLON | ambassador from France to King John. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | mother to King John. |
| CONSTANCE | mother to Arthur. |
| BLANCH of Spain | niece to King John. (BLANCH:) |
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE: | |
| Lords, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds,
Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and other Attendants. (First Citizen:) (French Herald:) (English Herald:) (First Executioner:) (Messenger:) |
| [Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE,
ESSEX,
SALISBURY, and others, with CHATILLON] |
|
| KING JOHN | Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? |
| CHATILLON | Thus, after greeting, speaks the King
of France
In my behavior to the majesty, The borrow'd majesty, of England here. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | A strange beginning: 'borrow'd majesty!' |
| KING JOHN | Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. |
| CHATILLON | Philip of France, in right and true behalf
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim To this fair island and the territories, To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which sways usurpingly these several titles, And put these same into young Arthur's hand, Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. |
| KING JOHN | What follows if we disallow of this? |
| CHATILLON | The proud control of fierce and bloody
war,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. |
| KING JOHN | Here have we war for war and blood for
blood,
Controlment for controlment: so answer France. |
| CHATILLON | Then take my king's defiance from my mouth,
The farthest limit of my embassy. |
| KING JOHN | Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace:
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; For ere thou canst report I will be there, The thunder of my cannon shall be heard: So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath And sullen presage of your own decay. An honourable conduct let him have: Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. |
| [Exeunt CHATILLON and PEMBROKE] | |
| QUEEN ELINOR | What now, my son! have I not ever said
How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world, Upon the right and party of her son? This might have been prevented and made whole With very easy arguments of love, Which now the manage of two kingdoms must With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. |
| KING JOHN | Our strong possession and our right for us. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Your strong possession much more than
your right,
Or else it must go wrong with you and me: So much my conscience whispers in your ear, Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear. |
| [Enter a Sheriff] | |
| ESSEX | My liege, here is the strangest controversy
Come from country to be judged by you, That e'er I heard: shall I produce the men? |
| KING JOHN | Let them approach.
Our abbeys and our priories shall pay This expedition's charge. |
| [Enter ROBERT and the BASTARD] | |
| What men are you? | |
| BASTARD | Your faithful subject I, a gentleman
Born in Northamptonshire and eldest son, As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A soldier, by the honour-giving hand Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. |
| KING JOHN | What art thou? |
| ROBERT | The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. |
| KING JOHN | Is that the elder, and art thou the heir?
You came not of one mother then, it seems. |
| BASTARD | Most certain of one mother, mighty king;
That is well known; and, as I think, one father: But for the certain knowledge of that truth I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother: Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame
thy mother
And wound her honour with this diffidence. |
| BASTARD | I, madam? no, I have no reason for it;
That is my brother's plea and none of mine; The which if he can prove, a' pops me out At least from fair five hundred pound a year: Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land! |
| KING JOHN | A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger
born,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? |
| BASTARD | I know not why, except to get the land.
But once he slander'd me with bastardy: But whether I be as true begot or no, That still I lay upon my mother's head, But that I am as well begot, my liege,-- Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!-- Compare our faces and be judge yourself. If old sir Robert did beget us both And were our father and this son like him, O old sir Robert, father, on my knee I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! |
| KING JOHN | Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! |
| QUEEN ELINOR | He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face;
The accent of his tongue affecteth him. Do you not read some tokens of my son In the large composition of this man? |
| KING JOHN | Mine eye hath well examined his parts
And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, What doth move you to claim your brother's land? |
| BASTARD | Because he hath a half-face, like my father.
With half that face would he have all my land: A half-faced groat five hundred pound a year! |
| ROBERT | My gracious liege, when that my father
lived,
Your brother did employ my father much,-- |
| BASTARD | Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land:
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother. |
| ROBERT | And once dispatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there with the emperor To treat of high affairs touching that time. The advantage of his absence took the king And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's; Where how he did prevail I shame to speak, But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores Between my father and my mother lay, As I have heard my father speak himself, When this same lusty gentleman was got. Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me, and took it on his death That this my mother's son was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, My father's land, as was my father's will. |
| KING JOHN | Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, And if she did play false, the fault was hers; Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, Had of your father claim'd this son for his? In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept This calf bred from his cow from all the world; In sooth he might; then, if he were my brother's, My brother might not claim him; nor your father, Being none of his, refuse him: this concludes; My mother's son did get your father's heir; Your father's heir must have your father's land. |
| ROBERT | Shall then my father's will be of no force
To dispossess that child which is not his? |
| BASTARD | Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, Lord of thy presence and no land beside? |
| BASTARD | Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert's his, like him; And if my legs were two such riding-rods, My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose Lest men should say 'Look, where three-farthings goes!' And, to his shape, were heir to all this land, Would I might never stir from off this place, I would give it every foot to have this face; I would not be sir Nob in any case. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy
fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? I am a soldier and now bound to France. |
| BASTARD | Brother, take you my land, I'll take my
chance.
Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear. Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Nay, I would have you go before me thither. |
| BASTARD | Our country manners give our betters way. |
| KING JOHN | What is thy name? |
| BASTARD | Philip, my liege, so is my name begun,
Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son. |
| KING JOHN | From henceforth bear his name whose form
thou bear'st:
Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great, Arise sir Richard and Plantagenet. |
| BASTARD | Brother by the mother's side, give me
your hand:
My father gave me honour, yours gave land. Now blessed by the hour, by night or day, When I was got, sir Robert was away! |
| QUEEN ELINOR | The very spirit of Plantagenet!
I am thy grandam, Richard; call me so. |
| BASTARD | Madam, by chance but not by truth; what
though?
Something about, a little from the right, In at the window, or else o'er the hatch: Who dares not stir by day must walk by night, And have is have, however men do catch: Near or far off, well won is still well shot, And I am I, howe'er I was begot. |
| KING JOHN | Go, Faulconbridge: now hast thou thy desire;
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed For France, for France, for it is more than need. |
| BASTARD | Brother, adieu: good fortune come to thee!
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty. |
| [Exeunt all but BASTARD] | |
| A foot of honour better than I was;
But many a many foot of land the worse. Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. 'Good den, sir Richard!'--'God-a-mercy, fellow!'-- And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names; 'Tis too respective and too sociable For your conversion. Now your traveller, He and his toothpick at my worship's mess, And when my knightly stomach is sufficed, Why then I suck my teeth and catechise My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,' Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin, 'I shall beseech you'--that is question now; And then comes answer like an Absey book: 'O sir,' says answer, 'at your best command; At your employment; at your service, sir;' 'No, sir,' says question, 'I, sweet sir, at yours:' And so, ere answer knows what question would, Saving in dialogue of compliment, And talking of the Alps and Apennines, The Pyrenean and the river Po, It draws toward supper in conclusion so. But this is worshipful society And fits the mounting spirit like myself, For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation; And so am I, whether I smack or no; And not alone in habit and device, Exterior form, outward accoutrement, But from the inward motion to deliver Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth: Which, though I will not practise to deceive, Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? What woman-post is this? hath she no husband That will take pains to blow a horn before her? |
|
| [Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and GURNEY] | |
| O me! it is my mother. How now, good lady!
What brings you here to court so hastily? |
|
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE | Where is that slave, thy brother? where
is he,
That holds in chase mine honour up and down? |
| BASTARD | My brother Robert? old sir Robert's son?
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? Is it sir Robert's son that you seek so? |
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE | Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend
boy,
Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at sir Robert? He is sir Robert's son, and so art thou. |
| BASTARD | James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? |
| GURNEY | Good leave, good Philip. |
| BASTARD | Philip! sparrow: James,
There's toys abroad: anon I'll tell thee more. |
| [Exit GURNEY] | |
| Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son:
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me Upon Good-Friday and ne'er broke his fast: Sir Robert could do well: marry, to confess, Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: We know his handiwork: therefore, good mother, To whom am I beholding for these limbs? Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. |
|
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE | Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? |
| BASTARD | Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like.
What! I am dubb'd! I have it on my shoulder. But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son; I have disclaim'd sir Robert and my land; Legitimation, name and all is gone: Then, good my mother, let me know my father; Some proper man, I hope: who was it, mother? |
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE | Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? |
| BASTARD | As faithfully as I deny the devil. |
| LADY FAULCONBRIDGE | King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father:
By long and vehement suit I was seduced To make room for him in my husband's bed: Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! Thou art the issue of my dear offence, Which was so strongly urged past my defence. |
| BASTARD | Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father. Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly: Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight, Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. He that perforce robs lions of their hearts May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, With all my heart I thank thee for my father! Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; And they shall say, when Richard me begot, If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin: Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. |
| [Exeunt] |
| [Enter AUSTRIA and forces, drums, etc.
on one side:
on the other KING PHILIP and his power; LEWIS, ARTHUR, CONSTANCE and attendants] |
|
| LEWIS | Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart And fought the holy wars in Palestine, By this brave duke came early to his grave: And for amends to his posterity, At our importance hither is he come, To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf, And to rebuke the usurpation Of thy unnatural uncle, English John: Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. |
| ARTHUR | God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's
death
The rather that you give his offspring life, Shadowing their right under your wings of war: I give you welcome with a powerless hand, But with a heart full of unstained love: Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke. |
| LEWIS | A noble boy! Who would not do thee right? |
| AUSTRIA | Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love, That to my home I will no more return, Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, Together with that pale, that white-faced shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides And coops from other lands her islanders, Even till that England, hedged in with the main, That water-walled bulwark, still secure And confident from foreign purposes, Even till that utmost corner of the west Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy, Will I not think of home, but follow arms. |
| CONSTANCE | O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's
thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength To make a more requital to your love! |
| AUSTRIA | The peace of heaven is theirs that lift
their swords
In such a just and charitable war. |
| KING PHILIP | Well then, to work: our cannon shall be
bent
Against the brows of this resisting town. Call for our chiefest men of discipline, To cull the plots of best advantages: We'll lay before this town our royal bones, Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood, But we will make it subject to this boy. |
| CONSTANCE | Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvised you stain your swords with blood: My Lord Chatillon may from England bring, That right in peace which here we urge in war, And then we shall repent each drop of blood That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. |
| [Enter CHATILLON] | |
| KING PHILIP | A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arrived! What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak. |
| CHATILLON | Then turn your forces from this paltry
siege
And stir them up against a mightier task. England, impatient of your just demands, Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds, Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time To land his legions all as soon as I; His marches are expedient to this town, His forces strong, his soldiers confident. With him along is come the mother-queen, An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain; With them a bastard of the king's deceased, And all the unsettled humours of the land, Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens, Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, To make hazard of new fortunes here: In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er Did nearer float upon the swelling tide, To do offence and scath in Christendom. |
| [Drum beats] | |
| The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand, To parley or to fight; therefore prepare. |
|
| KING PHILIP | How much unlook'd for is this expedition! |
| AUSTRIA | By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endavour for defence; For courage mounteth with occasion: Let them be welcome then: we are prepared. |
| [Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, BLANCH,
the BASTARD,
Lords, and forces] |
|
| KING JOHN | Peace be to France, if France in peace
permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own; If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct Their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven. |
| KING PHILIP | Peace be to England, if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace. England we love; and for that England's sake With burden of our armour here we sweat. This toil of ours should be a work of thine; But thou from loving England art so far, That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king Cut off the sequence of posterity, Out-faced infant state and done a rape Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face; These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his: This little abstract doth contain that large Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume. That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son; England was Geffrey's right And this is Geffrey's: in the name of God How comes it then that thou art call'd a king, When living blood doth in these temples beat, Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest? |
| KING JOHN | From whom hast thou this great commission,
France,
To draw my answer from thy articles? |
| KING PHILIP | From that supernal judge, that stirs good
thoughts
In any breast of strong authority, To look into the blots and stains of right: That judge hath made me guardian to this boy: Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong And by whose help I mean to chastise it. |
| KING JOHN | Alack, thou dost usurp authority. |
| KING PHILIP | Excuse; it is to beat usurping down. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? |
| CONSTANCE | Let me make answer; thy usurping son. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and cheque the world! |
| CONSTANCE | My bed was ever to thy son as true
As thine was to thy husband; and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey Than thou and John in manners; being as like As rain to water, or devil to his dam. My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think His father never was so true begot: It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. |
| CONSTANCE | There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. |
| AUSTRIA | Peace! |
| BASTARD | Hear the crier. |
| AUSTRIA | What the devil art thou? |
| BASTARD | One that will play the devil, sir, with
you,
An a' may catch your hide and you alone: You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right; Sirrah, look to't; i' faith, I will, i' faith. |
| BLANCH | O, well did he become that lion's robe
That did disrobe the lion of that robe! |
| BASTARD | It lies as sightly on the back of him
As great Alcides' shows upon an ass: But, ass, I'll take that burthen from your back, Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. |
| AUSTRIA | What craker is this same that deafs our
ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath? |
| KING PHILIP | Lewis, determine what we shall do straight. |
| LEWIS | Women and fools, break off your conference.
King John, this is the very sum of all; England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, In right of Arthur do I claim of thee: Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? |
| KING JOHN | My life as soon: I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand; And out of my dear love I'll give thee more Than e'er the coward hand of France can win: Submit thee, boy. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Come to thy grandam, child. |
| CONSTANCE | Do, child, go to it grandam, child:
Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig: There's a good grandam. |
| ARTHUR | Good my mother, peace!
I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that's made for me. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. |
| CONSTANCE | Now shame upon you, whether she does or
no!
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be bribed To do him justice and revenge on you. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! |
| CONSTANCE | Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth!
Call not me slanderer; thou and thine usurp The dominations, royalties and rights Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eld'st son's son, Infortunate in nothing but in thee: Thy sins are visited in this poor child; The canon of the law is laid on him, Being but the second generation Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. |
| KING JOHN | Bedlam, have done. |
| CONSTANCE | I have but this to say,
That he is not only plagued for her sin, But God hath made her sin and her the plague On this removed issue, plague for her And with her plague; her sin his injury, Her injury the beadle to her sin, All punish'd in the person of this child, And all for her; a plague upon her! |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will that bars the title of thy son. |
| CONSTANCE | Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked
will:
A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will! |
| KING PHILIP | Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate:
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim To these ill-tuned repetitions. Some trumpet summon hither to the walls These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. |
| [Trumpet sounds. Enter certain Citizens upon the walls] | |
| First Citizen | Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? |
| KING PHILIP | 'Tis France, for England. |
| KING JOHN | England, for itself.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects-- |
| KING PHILIP | You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle-- |
| KING JOHN | For our advantage; therefore hear us first.
These flags of France, that are advanced here Before the eye and prospect of your town, Have hither march'd to your endamagement: The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls: All preparation for a bloody siege All merciless proceeding by these French Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates; And but for our approach those sleeping stones, That as a waist doth girdle you about, By the compulsion of their ordinance By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made For bloody power to rush upon your peace. But on the sight of us your lawful king, Who painfully with much expedient march Have brought a countercheque before your gates, To save unscratch'd your city's threatened cheeks, Behold, the French amazed vouchsafe a parle; And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire, To make a shaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, To make a faithless error in your ears: Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, And let us in, your king, whose labour'd spirits, Forwearied in this action of swift speed, Crave harbourage within your city walls. |
| KING PHILIP | When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection Is most divinely vow'd upon the right Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, Son to the elder brother of this man, And king o'er him and all that he enjoys: For this down-trodden equity, we tread In warlike march these greens before your town, Being no further enemy to you Than the constraint of hospitable zeal In the relief of this oppressed child Religiously provokes. Be pleased then To pay that duty which you truly owe To that owes it, namely this young prince: And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; And with a blessed and unvex'd retire, With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruised, We will bear home that lusty blood again Which here we came to spout against your town, And leave your children, wives and you in peace. But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer, 'Tis not the roundure of your old-faced walls Can hide you from our messengers of war, Though all these English and their discipline Were harbour'd in their rude circumference. Then tell us, shall your city call us lord, In that behalf which we have challenged it? Or shall we give the signal to our rage And stalk in blood to our possession? |
| First Citizen | In brief, we are the king of England's
subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town. |
| KING JOHN | Acknowledge then the king, and let me in. |
| First Citizen | That can we not; but he that proves the
king,
To him will we prove loyal: till that time Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world. |
| KING JOHN | Doth not the crown of England prove the
king?
And if not that, I bring you witnesses, Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,-- |
| BASTARD | Bastards, and else. |
| KING JOHN | To verify our title with their lives. |
| KING PHILIP | As many and as well-born bloods as those,-- |
| BASTARD | Some bastards too. |
| KING PHILIP | Stand in his face to contradict his claim. |
| First Citizen | Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both. |
| KING JOHN | Then God forgive the sin of all those
souls
That to their everlasting residence, Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet, In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! |
| KING PHILIP | Amen, amen! Mount, chevaliers! to arms! |
| BASTARD | Saint George, that swinged the dragon,
and e'er since
Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, Teach us some fence! |
| [To AUSTRIA] | |
| Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, with your lioness I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, And make a monster of you. |
|
| AUSTRIA | Peace! no more. |
| BASTARD | O tremble, for you hear the lion roar. |
| KING JOHN | Up higher to the plain; where we'll set
forth
In best appointment all our regiments. |
| BASTARD | Speed then, to take advantage of the field. |
| KING PHILIP | It shall be so; and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand. God and our right! |
| [Exeunt] | |
| [Here after excursions, enter the Herald
of France,
with trumpets, to the gates] |
|
| French Herald | You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in, Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; And victory, with little loss, doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd, To enter conquerors and to proclaim Arthur of Bretagne England's king and yours. |
| [Enter English Herald, with trumpet] | |
| English Herald | Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your
bells:
King John, your king and England's doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day: Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; There stuck no plume in any English crest That is removed by a staff of France; Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march'd forth; And, like a troop of jolly huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes: Open your gates and gives the victors way. |
| First Citizen | Heralds, from off our towers we might
behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire Of both your armies; whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured: Blood hath bought blood and blows have answered blows; Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power: Both are alike; and both alike we like. One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even, We hold our town for neither, yet for both. |
| [Re-enter KING JOHN and KING PHILIP, with
their
powers, severally] |
|
| KING JOHN | France, hast thou yet more blood to cast
away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on? Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, Unless thou let his silver water keep A peaceful progress to the ocean. |
| KING PHILIP | England, thou hast not saved one drop
of blood,
In this hot trial, more than we of France; Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead, Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings. |
| BASTARD | Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire! O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, In undetermined differences of kings. Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? Cry, 'havoc!' kings; back to the stained field, You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits! Then let confusion of one part confirm The other's peace: till then, blows, blood and death! |
| KING JOHN | Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? |
| KING PHILIP | Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king? |
| First Citizen | The king of England; when we know the king. |
| KING PHILIP | Know him in us, that here hold up his right. |
| KING JOHN | In us, that are our own great deputy
And bear possession of our person here, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. |
| First Citizen | A greater power then we denies all this;
And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolved, Be by some certain king purged and deposed. |
| BASTARD | By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout
you, kings,
And stand securely on their battlements, As in a theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences be ruled by me: Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town: By east and west let France and England mount Their battering cannon charged to the mouths, Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city: I'ld play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. That done, dissever your united strengths, And part your mingled colours once again; Turn face to face and bloody point to point; Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory. How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? Smacks it not something of the policy? |
| KING JOHN | Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers And lay this Angiers even to the ground; Then after fight who shall be king of it? |
| BASTARD | An if thou hast the mettle of a king,
Being wronged as we are by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls; And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why then defy each other and pell-mell Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell. |
| KING PHILIP | Let it be so. Say, where will you assault? |
| KING JOHN | We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's bosom. |
| AUSTRIA | I from the north. |
| KING PHILIP | Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. |
| BASTARD | O prudent discipline! From north to south:
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth: I'll stir them to it. Come, away, away! |
| First Citizen | Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile
to stay,
And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, That here come sacrifices for the field: Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. |
| KING JOHN | Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear. |
| First Citizen | That daughter there of Spain, the Lady
Blanch,
Is niece to England: look upon the years Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid: If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, Is the young Dauphin every way complete: If not complete of, say he is not she; And she again wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not that she is not he: He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. O, two such silver currents, when they join, Do glorify the banks that bound them in; And two such shores to two such streams made one, Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings, To these two princes, if you marry them. This union shall do more than battery can To our fast-closed gates; for at this match, With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, And give you entrance: but without this match, The sea enraged is not half so deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More free from motion, no, not Death himself In moral fury half so peremptory, As we to keep this city. |
| BASTARD | Here's a stay
That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas, Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? He speaks plain cannon fire, and smoke and bounce; He gives the bastinado with his tongue: Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his But buffets better than a fist of France: Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words Since I first call'd my brother's father dad. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Son, list to this conjunction, make this
match;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough: For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsured assurance to the crown, That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. I see a yielding in the looks of France; Mark, how they whisper: urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was. |
| First Citizen | Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? |
| KING PHILIP | Speak England first, that hath been forward
first
To speak unto this city: what say you? |
| KING JOHN | If that the Dauphin there, thy princely
son,
Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,' Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen: For Anjou and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, And all that we upon this side the sea, Except this city now by us besieged, Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich In titles, honours and promotions, As she in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world. |
| KING PHILIP | What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face. |
| LEWIS | I do, my lord; and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of myself form'd in her eye: Which being but the shadow of your son, Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow: I do protest I never loved myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. |
| [Whispers with BLANCH] | |
| BASTARD | Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow! And quarter'd in her heart! he doth espy Himself love's traitor: this is pity now, That hang'd and drawn and quartered, there should be In such a love so vile a lout as he. |
| BLANCH | My uncle's will in this respect is mine:
If he see aught in you that makes him like, That any thing he sees, which moves his liking, I can with ease translate it to my will; Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it easily to my love. Further I will not flatter you, my lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this; that nothing do I see in you, Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge, That I can find should merit any hate. |
| KING JOHN | What say these young ones? What say you my niece? |
| BLANCH | That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. |
| KING JOHN | Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady? |
| LEWIS | Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly. |
| KING 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 pleased withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands. |
| KING PHILIP | It likes us well; young princes, close your hands. |
| AUSTRIA | And your lips too; for I am well assured
That I did so when I was first assured. |
| KING PHILIP | Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made; For at Saint Mary's chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemnized. Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? I know she is not, for this match made up Her presence would have interrupted much: Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows. |
| LEWIS | She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. |
| KING PHILIP | 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. |
| KING 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 Constance; 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] | |
| BASTARD | Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
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-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity, 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 determined aid, From a resolved 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, When his fair angels would salute my palm; But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary. Since kings break faith upon commodity, Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee. |
| [Exit] |
| [Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY] | |
| CONSTANCE | 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? It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard: Be well advised, 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, But this one word, whether thy tale be true. |
| SALISBURY | As true as I believe you think them false
That give you cause to prove my saying true. |
| CONSTANCE | 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. 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. |
| SALISBURY | What other harm have I, good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that is by others done? |
| CONSTANCE | Which harm within itself so heinous is
As it makes harmful all that speak of it. |
| ARTHUR | I do beseech you, madam, be content. |
| CONSTANCE | If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert
grim,
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, 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, And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O, She is corrupted, changed 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, 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 And leave those woes alone which I alone Am bound to under-bear. |
| SALISBURY | Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings. |
| CONSTANCE | Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go
with thee:
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 Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. |
| [Seats herself on the ground] | |
| [Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILLIP, LEWIS,
BLANCH,
QUEEN ELINOR, the BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and Attendants] |
|
| KING PHILIP | 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed
day
Ever in France shall be kept festival: To solemnize this day the glorious sun Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, Turning with splendor of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearly course that brings this day about Shall never see it but a holiday. |
| CONSTANCE | A wicked day, and not a holy day! |
| [Rising] | |
| What hath this day deserved? what hath
it done,
That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the calendar? 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 burthens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd: But on this day let seamen fear no wreck; 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! |
|
| KING PHILIP | By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
To curse the fair proceedings of this day: Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty? |
| CONSTANCE | You have beguiled me with a counterfeit
Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, Proves valueless: you are forsworn, forsworn; 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. Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured 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 perjured kings! Hear me, O, hear me! |
| AUSTRIA | Lady Constance, peace! |
| CONSTANCE | 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! 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 perjured too, And soothest 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 Upon thy stars, thy fortune and thy strength, And dost thou now fall over to my fores? Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. |
| AUSTRIA | O, that a man should speak those words to me! |
| BASTARD | And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. |
| AUSTRIA | Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life. |
| BASTARD | And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. |
| KING JOHN | We like not this; thou dost forget thyself. |
| [Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH] | |
| KING PHILIP | Here comes the holy legate of the pope. |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | 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, 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? This, in our foresaid holy father's name, Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. |
| KING JOHN | What earthy name to interrogatories
Can task the free breath of a sacred king? Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name 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; 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 To him and his usurp'd authority. |
| KING PHILIP | Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. |
| KING 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; 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, Yet I alone, alone do me oppose Against the pope and count his friends my foes. |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate. And blessed shall he be that doth revolt From his allegiance to an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized and worshipped as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life. |
| CONSTANCE | 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. |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. |
| CONSTANCE | 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, since law itself is perfect wrong, How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | 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, Unless he do submit himself to Rome. |
| QUEEN ELINOR | Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand. |
| CONSTANCE | Look to that, devil; lest that France
repent,
And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. |
| AUSTRIA | King Philip, listen to the cardinal. |
| BASTARD | And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. |
| AUSTRIA | Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because-- |
| BASTARD | Your breeches best may carry them. |
| KING JOHN | Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal? |
| CONSTANCE | What should he say, but as the cardinal? |
| LEWIS | 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. |
| CONSTANCE | 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. |
| CONSTANCE | 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! |
| KING JOHN | The king is moved, and answers not to this. |
| CONSTANCE | O, be removed from him, and answer well! |
| AUSTRIA | Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. |
| BASTARD | Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. |
| KING PHILIP | I am perplex'd, and know not what to say. |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | What canst thou say but will perplex thee
more,
If thou stand excommunicate and cursed? |
| KING PHILIP | Good reverend father, make my person 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 linked 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 over-stain'd With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint The fearful difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands, so lately purged 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? 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 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 Some gentle order; and then we shall be blest To do your pleasure and continue friends. |
| CARDINAL PANDULPH | 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 mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, A chafed lion by |