Complete Plays, The

by William Shakespeare

  I can with ease translate it to my will;

  Or if you will, to speak more properly,

  I will enforce it easily to my love.

  Further I will not flatter you, my lord,

  That all I see in you is worthy love,

  Than this; that nothing do I see in you,

  Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge,

  That I can find should merit any hate.

  King John

  What say these young ones? What say you my niece?

  Blanch

  That she is bound in honour still to do

  What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

  King John

  Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

  Lewis

  Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;

  For I do love her most unfeignedly.

  King John

  Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,

  Poictiers and Anjou, these five provinces,

  With her to thee; and this addition more,

  Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.

  Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal,

  Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

  King Philip

  It likes us well; young princes, close your hands.

  Austria

  And your lips too; for I am well assured

  That I did so when I was first assured.

  King Philip

  Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,

  Let in that amity which you have made;

  For at Saint Mary’s chapel presently

  The rites of marriage shall be solemnized.

  Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?

  I know she is not, for this match made up

  Her presence would have interrupted much:

  Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows.

  Lewis

  She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent.

  King Philip

  And, by my faith, this league that we have made

  Will give her sadness very little cure.

  Brother of England, how may we content

  This widow lady? In her right we came;

  Which we, God knows, have turn’d another way,

  To our own vantage.

  King John

  We will heal up all;

  For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne

  And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town

  We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance;

  Some speedy messenger bid her repair

  To our solemnity: I trust we shall,

  If not fill up the measure of her will,

  Yet in some measure satisfy her so

  That we shall stop her exclamation.

  Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,

  To this unlook’d for, unprepared pomp.

  Exeunt all but the Bastard

  Bastard

  Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!

  John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,

  Hath willingly departed with a part,

  And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,

  Whom zeal and charity brought to the field

  As God’s own soldier, rounded in the ear

  With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,

  That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,

  That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,

  Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,

  Who, having no external thing to lose

  But the word ‘maid,’ cheats the poor maid of that,

  That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity,

  Commodity, the bias of the world,

  The world, who of itself is peised well,

  Made to run even upon even ground,

  Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,

  This sway of motion, this Commodity,

  Makes it take head from all indifferency,

  From all direction, purpose, course, intent:

  And this same bias, this Commodity,

  This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,

  Clapp’d on the outward eye of fickle France,

  Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,

  From a resolved and honourable war,

  To a most base and vile-concluded peace.

  And why rail I on this Commodity?

  But for because he hath not woo’d me yet:

  Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,

  When his fair angels would salute my palm;

  But for my hand, as unattempted yet,

  Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.

  Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail

  And say there is no sin but to be rich;

  And being rich, my virtue then shall be

  To say there is no vice but beggary.

  Since kings break faith upon commodity,

  Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee.

  Exit

  ACT III

  SCENE I. THE FRENCH KING’S PAVILION.

  Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury

  Constance

  Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!

  False blood to false blood join’d! gone to be friends!

  Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces?

  It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard:

  Be well advised, tell o’er thy tale again:

  It cannot be; thou dost 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 false

  That give you cause to prove my saying true.

  Constance

  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.

  Lewis 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.

  Salisbury

  What other harm have I, good lady, done,

  But spoke the harm that is by others done?

  Constance

  Which harm within itself so heinous is

  As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

  Arthur

  I do beseech you, madam, be content.

  Constance

  If thou, that bid’st me be content, wert grim,

  Ugly and slanderous 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,
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  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 mayst with lilies boast,

  And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O,

  She is corrupted, changed and won from thee;

  She 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.

  Salisbury

  Pardon me, madam,

  I may not go without you to the kings.

  Constance

  Thou mayst, 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.

  Seats herself on the ground

  Enter King John, King Phillip, Lewis, Blanch, Queen Elinor, the Bastard, Austria, and Attendants

  King Philip

  ’Tis 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 alchemist,

  Turning with splendor 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 holiday.

  Constance

  A wicked day, and not a holy day!

  Rising

  What hath this day deserved? 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 wreck;

  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!

  King Philip

  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?

  Constance

  You have beguiled me with a counterfeit

  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 perjured 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 perjured kings!

  Hear me, O, hear me!

  Austria

  Lady Constance, peace!

  Constance

  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 villany!

  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 perjured too,

  And soothest 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 fores?

  Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff it for shame,

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

  Austria

  O, that a man should speak those words to me!

  Bastard

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

  Austria

  Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life.

  Bastard

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

  King John

  We like not this; thou dost forget thyself.

  Enter Cardinal Pandulph

  King Philip

  Here comes the holy legate of the pope.

  Cardinal Pandulph

  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.

  King John

  What earthy 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.

  King Philip

  Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.

  King 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.

  Cardinal Pandulph

  Then, by the lawful power that I have,

  Thou shalt stand cursed 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 worshipped as a saint,

  That takes away by any secret course

  Thy hateful life.

  Constan
ce

  O, lawful let it be

  That I have room 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.

  Cardinal Pandulph

  There’s law and warrant, lady, for my curse.

  Constance

  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?

  Cardinal Pandulph

  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.

  Queen Elinor

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

  Constance

  Look to that, devil; lest that France repent,

  And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul.

  Austria

  King Philip, listen to the cardinal.

  Bastard

  And hang a calf’s-skin on his recreant limbs.

  Austria

  Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because —

  Bastard

  Your breeches best may carry them.

  King John

  Philip, what say’st thou to the cardinal?

  Constance

  What should he say, but as the cardinal?

  Lewis

  Bethink you, father; for the difference

  Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,

  Or the light loss of England for a friend:

  Forego the easier.

  Blanch

  That’s the curse of Rome.

  Constance

  O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee here

  In likeness of a new untrimmed bride.

  Blanch

  The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,

  But from her need.

  Constance

  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!

  King John

  The king is moved, and answers not to this.

  Constance

  O, be removed from him, and answer well!

  Austria

  Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt.

  Bastard

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

  King Philip

  I am perplex’d, and know not what to say.

  Cardinal Pandulph

  What canst thou say but will perplex thee more,

  If thou stand excommunicate and cursed?