Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,"
Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content;
For then I should 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'st with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose: but fortune, O!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thy uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on
France

To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is a bawd to fortune, and king John;
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John:-
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.

Sal.

Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.
Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go
with thee:

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud:
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.b
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up here I and sorrows sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
[She throws herself on the ground.
Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS,
BLANCH, ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA, and
Attendants.

K. Phi. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day,

a Prodigious. Preternatural.

b Stoop. What is called an "emendation" by Hanmer still holds its place. Malone rejects it; Mr. Dyce adopts i,

"For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout." The meaning of the passage appears to us briefly thus; Constance refuses to go with Salisbury to the kings-she will instruct her sorrows to be proud; for grief is proud in spirit, even while it bows down the body of its owner. The commentators substitute and defend the word "stout" because they received stoop in the sense of submission. Constance continues the fine image throughout her speech: "To me, and to the state of my great grief, Let kings assemble;

here grief is "proud."

"Here I and sorrows sit; "

Ever in France shall be kept festival:
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist;
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course that brings this day about
Shall never see it but a holyday.

Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday!-
[Rising.
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:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd:
But on this day, let seamen fear no wrack;
No bargains break, that are not this day made:
This day, all things begun come to ill end;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

a

K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no

cause

To curse the fair proceedings of this day.
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty?

Const. You have beguil'd me with a counter-
feit,

Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd, and tried,

Proves valueless: 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. Const. 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 coward;

Thou little valiant, great in villainy!

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!

Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight

But when her humorous ladyship is by

To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,

a But on-except on.

And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,

A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear,
Upon my party! 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 !

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life.

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget thyself.

Enter PANDULPH.

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope.

Pand. 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 perforce,
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. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme
in this.

K. John. Though you, and all the kings of
Christendom,

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, sells 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.

Pand. 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 an heretic; And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hateful life.

Const. 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, since law itself is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse?
Pand. 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.

Eli. Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand.

Const. Look to that, devil! lest that France repent,

And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul.

Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.

Aust. Well, ruffian, 1 must pocket up these wrongs,

Because

Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal ?

Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal ?

a Room with Rome. Rome was formerly pronounced room, and Shakspere indulges in a play upon words, even when the utterer is strongly moved.

Const. O, if thou grant my need, Which only lives but by the death of faith, That need must 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.

Const. O, be remov'd from him, and answer well.

Aust. Do so, king Philip; hang no more in doubt.

Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout.

K. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what to say.

Pand. What canst thou say, but will perplex

thee more,

If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd?

K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my per

son yours,

And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit :
And the conjunction of our inward souls
Married 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 even before this truce, but new before,-
No longer than we well could wash our hands,
To clap this royal bargain up of peace,-
Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and over-
stain'd

With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint
The fearful difference 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 seizure, and this kind regreet?
Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven,
Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm;
Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage bed

Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,
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 then we shall be bless'd
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 chased lion by the mortal paw,

a

A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,

Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.

K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my

faith.

That is, to be the champion of our church!
What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself,
And may not be performed by thyself:
For that which thou hast 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; though indirect,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct,
And falsehood falsehood cures; as fire cools fire,
Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd.
It is religion that doth make vows kept;
But thou hast sworn against religion
By what thou swear'st against the thing thou
swear'st;

And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth
Against an oath: The truth thou art unsure

a A chased lion. We have ventured here upon a slight change. The original reads, "a cased lion," which is supposed to mean a lion in a cage. The image is, strictly taken, weakened, if not destroyed, by this epithet; for the paw of a confined lion is often held with impunity. And yet cased may mean irritated by confinement. Some would read "chafed." The very pardonable insertion of an h presents us a noble picture of a hunted lion at bay. The emendation, though proposed by one of the first editors, has not been adopted. We think we have to choose, rejecting cased, between chased and chafed. Mr. Dyce prefers chafed, and gives a very satisfactory reason for his preference in quoting Henry VIII. Act 1. Sc. 11.— "So looks the chafed lion

Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him." But even here the very context proves that we might read chased; the confusion arising from the use of the long, so like an f.

Therefore, thy later vows, against thy first,
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself:

And better conquest never can'st thou make,
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
Against these giddy loose suggestions:
Upon which better part our prayers 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 off,
But, in despair, die under their black weight.
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion!
Bast.
Will 't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine?
Lew. Father, to arms!

Blanch.

Upon thy wedding-day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd

men ?

"The truth thou art unsure

"To swear, swears only not to be forsworn." Several modern editions read swear. The meaning seems to be this: the truth-that is, the troth, for which you have made an oath the surety, against thy former oath to heaven-this troth, which it was unsure to swear-which you violate your surety in swearing-has only been swornswears only-not to be forsworn; but it is sworn against a former oath, which is more binding, because it was an oath to religion-to the principle upon which al! oaths are made. b Measures-solemn dances.

Pand. I will denounce a curse upon his head. K. Phi. Thou shalt not need:-England, I will fall from thee.

Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty!
Eli. O foul revolt of French inconstancy!
K. John. France, thou shalt rue this hour
within this hour.

Bast. Old time the clock-setter, that bald sexton time,

Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. Blanch. The sun's o'ercast with blood: Fair

day adieu!

Which is the side 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;
Grandame, I will not wish thy wishes thrive:
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ;
Assured loss, before the match be play'd.
Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune
lies.

;

Will bring this labour to a happy end. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same.

Enter KING

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, the Bastard, HUBERT, and Lords.

K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay behind, [TO ELINOR. So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad: [To ARTHUR. Thy grandame 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. Cousin, [to the Bastard.] away for
England; haste before:

And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots; imprison'd angels
Set thou at liberty; the fat ribs of peace
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force.

Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive
me back,1

When gold and silver becks me to come on.
I leave your highness :-Grandame, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy,)

For your fair safety; so I kiss your
Eli. Farewell, gentle cousin.
K. John.

hand.

Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard.

But thou shalt have: and creep time ne'er so

slow,

Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to say,-But let it go:
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton and too full of gawds,
To give me audience :—If the midnight bell
Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth,
Sound on into the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, melancholy,

a

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick, (Which, else, runs tickling up and down the veins,

Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle meriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;)
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts:
But ah, I will not :-Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think, thou lov'st me well.
Hub. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By heaven, I would do it.

K. John. Do not I know thou would'st? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my friend, He is a very serpent in my way;

And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread

a Sound on. So the original. But on and one were often spelt alike; and therefore the passage must be determined by other principles than that of fidelity to the text. Which is the more poetical,

"Sound on into the drowsy race of night,"

or "sound one?" Shakspere, it appears to us, has made the idea of time precise enough by the "midnight bell;" and the addition of "ohe" is either a contradiction or a pleonasm, "The midnight to which form of words he was not given. bell" sounding "on, into" (or unto, for the words were used convertibly) the drowsy march, race, of night, seems to us far more poetical than precisely determining the hour, which was already determined by the word "midnight." But was Was it not rather the "midnight bell" the bell of a clock? the bell which called the monks to their "morning lauds," and which, according to the regulations of Dunstan, was ordinarily to be rung before every office? In Dunstan's "Concord of Rules," quoted by Fosbrooke, the hours for the first services of the day are thus stated,

Mattins and Lauds, midnight. Prime, 6 A.M.

It is added, "if the office of Lauds be finished by day-break, as is fit, let them begin Prime without ringing; if not, let them wait for day-light, and, ringing the bell, assemble for Prime." It must, however, be noticed, that when Bernardo describes the appearance of the Ghost, in Hamlet, he marks the time by "the bell then beating one." In this instance the word is spelt one (not on) both in the early quartos and in the folio of 1623.

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