The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holyday.
Con. [Rising.] A wicked day, and not a holy
What hath this day deserv'd what hath it done,
That it in golden letters should be set,
Among the high tides, in the kalendar?
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
This day, all things begun come to ill end;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change |
K. Phil. By Heaven, lady, you shall have no
To curse the fair proceedings of this day:
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty
Con. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit,
Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd, and
Proves oles: 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 perjur’d 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 perjur’d Kings!
Hear me, O, hear me !
Aust. Lady Constance, peace. -
Con. 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
Thou little valiant, great in villainy!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!