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Fault. Hang Nothing but a Calve’s-Skin, most sweet
Lout. K. Philip. I am perplext, and know not what to say. Pand. What can'st thou say, but will perplex thce
: more, If thou stand excommunicate and curft? K. Pbilip. Good rev'rend father, make my person
And tell me, how you would bestow your self. .
This royal hand and mine are newly knit,
And the conjunction of our inward souls
Marry'd in league, coupled and link'd 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 ev'n before this truce, but new before,
No longer than we well could wash our hands
To clap this royal bargain up
Heav'n knows, they were besmeard and over-stain'd
With Slaughter's pencil; where Revenge did paint
The fearful diffʻrence of incensed Kings.
And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood,
So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,
Unyoke this seisure, and this kind regreet?
Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heav'n,
Make such unconstant children of our selves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm?
Un-swear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed
Of smiling Peace to march a bloody hoft,
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 we shall be blest
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.
Pand, 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 chafed Lyon by the mortal paw,
A fasting Tyger safer by the cooth,
Than keep in peace that hand, which thou doft hold.
K. Philip. I may dis-join my hand, but not my faith.
Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith;
And, like a civil war, set'st 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.
What since thou swor'ft, is sworn against thy selfs
And may not be performed by thy self.
For That, which thou haft sworn to do amiss,
Is not amiss, when it is truly done:
And being not done, where doing tends to Ill,
The truth is then most done, not doing it.
The better Act of purposes mistook
Is to mistake again; tho indirect,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct,
And fallhood fallhood cures; as fire cools fire,
Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd.
It is Religion that doth make vows kept, ,
But thou haft sworn against religion :
By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou swear'ft:
And mak'st an oath the surety for thy
Against an oath the truth thou art unsure
To swear, swear only not to be forsworn;
Else what a mockery should it be to swear?
But thou doft swear, only to be forsworn,
And most forsworn, to keep what thou doft swear.
Therefore thy latter vows, against thy first,
Is in thy self Rebellion to thy self.
And better Conquest never canst thou make,
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
Against these giddy, loose suggestions :
Upon which better part; our pray’rs come in,
If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know,
The peril of our curses light on thee
So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them offs
But, in despair, die under their black weight.
Auft. Rebellion, flat rebellion.
Faul. Will't not be?
Will not a Calve's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?
Lewis. Father, to arms.
Blanch. Upon thy wedding-day?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What, shall our feast be kept with flaughter'd men?
Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums,
Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp?
O husband, hear me: (ay, alack, how new
Is husband in my mouth?) ev'n 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.
. O, upon my knee,
Made' hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom
Forethought by heav'n.
Blanch. Now shall I see thy love; what motive may Be stronger with thee than the name of wife?
Conft. That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds, His honour. Oh, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour !
Lewis. I muse, your Majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects do pull you on?
Pand. I will denounce a Curse upon his head?
K. Philip. Thou shalt not need. England, I'll fall
Conft. O fair Return of banish'd Majesty !
Eli. O foul Revolt of French Inconftancy!
K. John. France, chou shalt rue this hour within this
hour. Faulc. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton
Is it, as he will? well then, France shall rue.
Blanch. The Sun's o'ercast with blood : fair day, adieu!
Which is the fide that I must go withal ?
I am with Both, each army hath a hand,
And in their rage, I having hold of both,
They whirl asunder, and dismember me.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou may'st win:
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st lose:
Father, I may not wish the fortune thine:
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive:
Whoever wins, on that side thall I lose:
Assured loss, before the match be play’d.
Lewis. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.
Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my
life dies. K. John. Cousin, go draw our puissance together.
[Exit Faulc. 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. Philip. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou
shalt turn To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: Look to thy self, thou art in jeopardy. K. John. No more, than he that threats. To arms, let's hie.
SCENE changes to a Field of Battle.
Alarms, Excursions : Enter Faulconbridge, with Austria's,
Faul. Now by my life, this day grows wond'rous
hot ) Some fiery devil hovers in the sky, And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there.
Thus hath King Richard's son perform'd his vow,
And offer'd Austria's blood for sacrifice
Unto his father's ever-living soul.
Enter John, Arthur, and Hubert.
K. John. There, Hubert, keep this boy. Richard,
My mother is assailed in our Tent,
And ta’en, I fear.
Faulc. 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. [Exeunt.
Alarms, Excursions, Retreat. Re-enter King John, Elinor,
Arthur, Faulconbridge, Hubert, and Lords.
K. John. So shall it be; your Grace shall stay behind
So strongly guarded : Cousin, look not sad,
Thy Grandam loves thee, and thy Uncle will
As dear be to thee, as thy father was.
Arth. O, this will make my mother die with grief.
K. John. Coulin, away for England; hafte betore,
And, ere our Coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding Abbots; their imprison'd angels
Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of Peace (18)
Must by the hungry War be fed upon.
Use our Commission in its utmost force.
Faulc. Bell, Book, and Candle shall not drive me
When gold and silver beck me to come on.
I leave your Highness: Grandam, I will pray,
the fat Ribs of Peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon.) This Word now seems a
very idle Term here, and conveys no satisfactory Idea. An Antithesis,
and Opposition of Terms, so perpetual with our Author, requires;
Muft by the hungry War be fed upon.
War, demanding a large Expence, is very poetically said to be hungry,
and to prey on the Wealth and Fat of Peace. Mr. Warburton.