I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.
PANDULPH.
So mak’st thou faith an enemy to faith;
And, like a civil war, sett’st oath to oath,
Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow
First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform’d,—
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
To swear, swears only not to be forsworn;
Else what a mockery should it be to swear!
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn;
And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear.
Therefore thy latter vows against thy first
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself;
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 prayers come in,
If thou vouchsafe them; but if not, then know
The peril of our curses fight on thee,
So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off,
But in despair die under the black weight.
AUSTRIA.
Rebellion, flat rebellion!
BASTARD.
Will’t not be?
Will not a calf’s-skin stop that mouth of thine?
LOUIS.
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?
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!—even 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.
CONSTANCE.
O, upon my knee,
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom
Forethought by heaven.
BLANCH.
Now shall I see thy love: what motive may
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife?
CONSTANCE.
That which upholdeth him that thee upholds,
His honour:—O, thine honour, Louis, thine honour!
LOUIS.
I muse your majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects do pull you on.
PANDULPH.
I will denounce a curse upon his head.
KING PHILIP.
Thou shalt not need.—England, I will fall from thee.
CONSTANCE.
O fair return of banish’d majesty!
ELINOR.
O foul revolt of French inconstancy!
KING JOHN.
France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.
BASTARD.
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 mayst win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose;
Father, I may not wish the fortune thine;
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive:
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose;
Assured loss before the match be play’d.
LOUIS.
Lady, with me: with me thy fortune lies.
BLANCH.
There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
KING JOHN.
Cousin, go draw our puissance together.—
[Exit BASTARD.]
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.
KING PHILIP.
Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire:
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
KING JOHN.
No more than he that threats.—To arms let’s hie!
[Exeunt severally.]
SCENE 2. The same. Plains near Angiers
[Alarums. Excursions. Enter the BASTARD with AUSTRIA’S head.]
BASTARD.
Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky
And pours down mischief.—Austria’s head lie there,
While Philip breathes.
[Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT.]
KING JOHN.
Hubert, keep this boy.—Philip, make up:
My mother is assailed in our tent,
And ta’en, I fear.
BASTARD.
My lord, I rescu’d