[ACT III. Sc. I.-Theobald.]
CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.
Const. Gone to be married? gone to swear a peace?
False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be
Shall Louis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces ? It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard: Be well advis'd; tell o'er thy tale again: It cannot be; thou do'st but say 'tis so. I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word Is but the vain breath of a common man: Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; I have a King's oath to the contrary. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest, With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, But they will quake and tremble all this day. What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head? Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 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 sad signs confirmers of thy words? Then speak again; not all thy former tale, But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
Salisbury. As true, as, I believe, you think them
That give you cause to prove my saying true.
Const. O! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; And let belief and life encounter so, As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which in the very meeting fall and die.
Louis marry Blanch! O, boy! then where art thou? France friend with England! what becomes of me? Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight: This news hath made thee a most ugly man. Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done?
Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it.
Arth. I do beseech you, Madam, be content. Const. If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains, 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: Sh' adulterates hourly with thine 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.
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. 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 sits on the ground. Exit SALISBURY.
CONSTANCE and ARTHUR. Enter, from the marriage, King JOHN, King PHILIP, LOUIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA, and Attendants.
NIS true, fair daughter; and this blessed day,
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 holy day!
[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 calendar? 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 burthens 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!
K. Phi. By Heaven, lady, you shall have no
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 counterfeit, Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd and tri'd, Proves valueless. You are fors worn, 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!
Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to nie a
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, 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
K. John. We like not this: thou dost forget thyself.
K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. Pandulph. Hail, you anointed deputies of Heaven.
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