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But now in arms, you ftrengthen it with yours.
The grapling vigour, and rough frown of war,
Is cold 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 dost shame

That bloody fpoil: thou flave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villany!

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 slave,
Haft thou not spoke like thunder on my fide?·
Been fworn my foldier, bidding me depend
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-skin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. O, that a man would speak those words to me!
Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. Thou darit not fay fo, villain, for thy life.
Faule. And hang a calve's-skin on thofe recreant limbs.
Auft. Methinks, that Richard's pride and Richard's fall
Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.

Faule. What words are thefe ? how do my finews

fhake!

My father's foe clad in my father's spoil!

How doth Alecto whisper in my ears,

46

Delay not, Richard, kill the villain ftrait; "Difrobe him of the matchless monument,

"Thy

"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 thyself. Enter Pandulph.

K. Philip. Here comes the holy Legate of the Pope.
Pand. Hail, you anointed Deputies of heaven!
To thee. King John, my holy errand is;

I Panduth of fair Milain Cardinal,
And from Pope Innocent the Legate here,
Do in his name religiously demand

Why thou againft the Church, our holy Mother,
So wilfully deft 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 task the free breath of a facred King ?
Thou canf not, Cardinal, devise 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 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 him, that great Supremacy,
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, Tho' you, and all the Kings of Chriftendom 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

Who in that fale fells pardon from himself?
Tho' you, and all the reft, fo grofly led,
This jugling witch-craft with revenue cherish;
Yet I alone, alone, do me oppofe

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pand. Then by the lawful power that I have,.
Thou shalt ftard curft, 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 room 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 power to curfe him right.

Pand. There's law, and warrant, lady, for my curfe: Canft. 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 itfelf is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse?
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curfe,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretick;
And raise the pow'r of France upon his head,
Unless he do fubmit himself 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, liften to the Cardinal.

Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on his recreant limbs. Auft. Well, ruffian, I muft pocket up thefe wrongs, Because

Faulc. Your breeches beft may carry them.

K. John. Philip, what fay'ft 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;
Forgo the easier.

Blanch. That's the curfe of Rome.

Conft. Lewis, ftand faft; the Devil tempts thee here (11)

In likeness of a new and trimmed bride:

Blanch. The lady Conftance speaks not from her faith: But from her need.

Conft. Oh, if thou grant my need,

Which only lives but by the death of faith,.
That need muft 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.
Conft. O, be remov'd from him, and answer well.
Auft. Do fo, King Philip; hang no more in doubt.
Faulc. Hang nothing but a calve's-skin, moft sweet
lout.

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 curft ?÷

K. Philip. Good rev'rend 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 fouls:

-the Devil tempts thee bere

(11) In Likeness of a new untrimmed Bride.] Tho' all: theCopies concur in this Reading, yet as untrimmed cannot bear any Signification to square with the Senfe required, I cannot help thinking it a corrupted Reading. I have ventur'd to throw out the Negative, and read ;

In Likeness of a new and trimmed Bride.

i. e. of a new Bride, and One, deck'd and adorn'd as well by Art as Nature,

Marry'd

Marry'd in league, coupled and link'd together
With all religious ftrength of facred vows;
The latest breath, that gave the found of words,
Was deep-fworn 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,

Heav'n knows, they were befmear'd and over ftain'
With flaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint-
The fearful diff'rence of incenfed Kings.
And fhall 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 ourselves,
As now again to fnatch our palm from palm?
Un fwear faith fworn, and on the marriage bed
Of fmiling peace to march a bloody holt,
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, impofe
Some gentle order, and we shall 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 curse,
A mother's curfe on her revolting fon.
France, thou may'ft hold a ferpent by the tongue,
A chafed lyon 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 our Church.

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