It cannot be; thou doft but fay 'tis fo.

I think I may not trust thee, for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man:
I have a King's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am fick and capable of fears,

Oppreft with wrongs, and therefore full of fears:
A widow, husbandlefs, fubject to fears,
A woman, naturally born to fears.

And though thou now confefs thou didst but jeft,
With my vext spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What doft thou mean by fhaking of thy head?
Why doft thou look fo fadly on my fon?
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 fad figns confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
Sal. As true, as I believe you think them false
That give you caufe to prove my saying true.

Conft. Oh, if thou teach me to believe this forrow,
Teach thou this forrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so,

As doth the fury of two defp'rate men,
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die.
Lewis wed Blanch! O boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?
Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy fight. *

Arth. I do befeech you, mother, be content.
Conft. If thou that bidft me be content wert grim,
Ugly, and fland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleafing blots, and fightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, fwart, prodigious,
---- I cannot brook thy fight,

This news hath made thee a mott ugly man.
Sal. What other harm have I, good Lady, done,
But fpoke the harm that is by others done?
Conf. Which harm within it felf fo heinous is,
As it makes harmful all that fpeak of it.
Arch. A do beseech you, &c,

Pack'a

Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks;
I would not care, I then would be content;
For then I fhould 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 may'ft with lillies boast,
And with the half-blown rofe. But Fortune, oh!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee,
Adulterates hourly with thine uncle John,
And with her golden hand hath pluckt on France
To tread down fair refpect of fovereignty,
And made his Majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is a bawd to Fortune, and to John,
That ftrumpet Fortune, that ufurping John!
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forfworn?
Envenom him with words, or get thee gone,
And leave these woes alone which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.

Sal. Pardon me, Madam,

I may not go without you to the Kings,

Conft. Thou may'ft, thou fhalt, I will not go with thee. I will inftruct my forrow to be proud;

For grief is proud, and makes his owner ftout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let Kings affemble: for my grief's so great,
That no fupporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: Here I and forrow fit;
Here is my throne, bid Kings come bow to it.

[Sits down on the Floor.

SCENE II.

Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor, the Baftard, and Austria.

K. Philip. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this bleffed day Ever in France fhall be kept festival :

To folemnize this day, the glorious fun
Stays in his courfe, and plays the alchymift,
Turning with splendour of his precious eye
The meager cloddy earth to glitt'ring gold.
The yearly courfe that brings this day about,
Shall never fee it but a holy day.

Confi.

Conft. A wicked day, and not a holy-day,

What hath this day deferv'd? what hath it done,

That it in golden letters fhould be fet
Among the high-tides in the kalendar ?
Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
This day of fhame, oppreffion, perjury:
Or if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray that their burthens may not fall this day,
Left that their hopes prodigiously be croft:
Except this day, let feamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break, that are not this day made
This day all things begun come to ill end,
Yea, faith it felf to hollow falfhood change!

[Rifing.

K. Philip. By heaven, Lady, you shall have no cause
To curfe the fair proceedings of this day:
Have I not pawn'd to you my Majesty?

Conft. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Refembling Majefty, which touch'd and try'd
Proves valueless: you are forfworn, forfworn.
You came in arms to fpill my enemies blood,
But now in arms, you ftrengthen it with yours.
The grapling vigour and rough frown of war
Is cool'd 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: OLymoges, O Auftria! thou doft shame

That bloody spoil: thou flave, thou wretch, thou coward,
Thou little valiant, great in villainy :

Thou ever ftrong upon the stronger fide;
Thou fortune's champion, that doft never fight
But when her humourous Ladyfhip is by
To teach thee safety; thou art perjur'd too,
And footh'ft up greatness. What a fool art thou,
VOL. IV.

T

A ramping fool, to brag, to ftamp, and swear,
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-fkin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. O that a man would speak, those words to me!
Baft. And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. Thou dar'ft not say fo, villain, for thy life.
Baft. And hang a calve's-fkin on those recreant limbs.
Auft. Methinks that Richard's pride and Richard's fall
Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.

Baft. What words are thefe? how do my finews shake!
My father's foe clad in my father's spoil!
How doth Alecto whifper in my ears,
Delay not, Richard, kill the villain ftrait,
Difrobe bim of the matchless monument,
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 thy felf.
SCENE III. Enter Pandulph.

K. Philip. Here comes the holy Legate of the Pope.
Pand. Hail, you anointed Deputies of heav'n!

To thee, King John, my holy errand is ;

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

Why thou against the church our holy mother
So wilfully doft spurn, 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 tax the free breath of a facred King ?
Thou canst not, Cardinal, devise a name

So

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 it, that great fupremacy
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. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom Are led fo grofly by this medling pricft,

Dreading the curfe that mony may buy out;
And by the merit of vile gold, drofs, duft,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that fale fells pardon from himself:
Though you, and all the reft fo grofly led,
This jugling witchcraft with revenue cherish,
Yet I alone, alone, do me oppose

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pand. Then by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt ftand curs'd, and excommunicate;
And bieffed 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 secret course
Thy hateful life.

Conft. O, lawful let it be

That I have leave 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 pow'r to curfe him right.
Pand. There's law and warrant, Lady, for my curfe.
Conft. 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;

T 2

There.