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Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight,
But when her humourous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety !
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

foes ?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to

me!

Faul, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant

limbs, Aust, Thou dar’st not say so, villain, for thy life. Faul. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant

limbs, K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget thy

self.

A Trumpet sounds.

Enter CARDINAL PANDULPH, Attended,
K. Phil, Here comes the holy Legate of the Pope.

Pan. 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 per force,
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.

K. John. What earthly 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.

K. Phil. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.
K. Joln. Though you, and all the kings of Chris-

tendom,
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, seils 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.
Pan. Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand curs’d and excommunicate :
And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt
From his allegiance to a heretic;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.

Con. O, lawful let it be,
That I have leave 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.

Pan, 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.

Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.
Faul. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant

limbs.
Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these

wrongs, Because

Faul. Your breeches best may carry them.
K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the Cardinal?
Con. What should he say, but as the Cardinal ?
K. Phil. Good reverend father, make my person

yours,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit:
And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood,
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet?
My reverend father, let it not be so:
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose
Some gentle order; and then we shall be bless'd
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.

Pan. 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 may'st hold a serpent by the tongue,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.
K. Phil. I may disjoin my hand, but not my

faith. Pan. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith ; 0, let thy vow First made to Heaven, first be to Heaven perform'd; That is, to be the champion of our church ! If not, then know, The peril of our curses light on thee,

So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off,
But, in despair, die under their black weight.

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion!

Faul. Will't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine?

Lew. Father, to arms !

Blan. Upon my wedding-day?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What ! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men?
Oʻ husband, hear me ;-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.

Con. O, upon my knee,
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom
Forethought by Heaven.

Blan. Now shall I see thy love: What motive may
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife?
Con. That which upholdeth him, that thee up-

holds, 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.

Pan. I will denounce a curse upon his head.
K. Phil. Thou shalt not need :-England, I'll fall

from thee. Con. O fair return of banish'd majesty! K. John. France thou shalt rue this hour within

this hour. Cousin, go draw your puissance together.-

[Exit FAULCON BRIDGE. France, I am burn’d up with inflaming wrath ; A rage,

whose heat hath this condition,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood of France.

K. Phil. Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
K. John. No more than he that threats,—To arms
let's hie!

[A Charge.-Exeunt.

SCENE II.

France.

A Field of Battle.

Alarums.

Enter FAULCONBRIDGE.
Faul. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous

hot;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky,
And
pours down mischief.

[A Charge.

Enter AUSTRIA; FAULCON BRIDGE and AUSTRIA en

gage ; FauLCON BRIDGE drives Austria off the Stage, and presently re-enters with the Lion's Skin in his Hand.

Faul. Austria's head lie there, While Philip breathes.

[A Charge.

Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, ENGLISH GENTLEMEN,

and HUBERT. K. John. Hubert, keep this boy;

[Exeunt HUBERT and ARTHUR. Philip, make up; My mother is assailed in our tent, And ta’en, I fear.

Faul. My lord, I rescu'd her ; Her highness is in safety, fear you

not: But on, my liege ; for very little pains Will bring this labour to an happy end.

[A Charge.Exeunt.

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