Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this leagues Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sun-set, Aust. Lady Constance, peace." 110 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 villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 120 And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, 130 limbs. Eij Aust. Aust. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. Faulc. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. K. John. We like not this; thou dost forget thyself. Enter PANDULPH. K. Phil. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven!To thee, king John, my holy errand is. Į Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, And from pope Innocent the legate here, 140 Why thou against the church, our holy mother, This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, K. John. What earthly name, to interrogatories, Can task the free breath of a sacred king? To charge me to an answer, as the pope. 150 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, Without the assistance of a mortal hand: 160 So So tell the pope; all reverence set apart, K. Phil. 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, Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, 170 That takes away by any secret course 185 Thy hateful life. Const. O, lawful let it be, That I have room with Rome to curse a while! To my keen curses; for, without my wrong, Law cannot give my child his kingdom here; 190 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. 200 Faule. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because Faulc. 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? 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. 210 Const. 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. Const. Const. Oh, if thou grant my need, Which only lives but by the death of faith, That need must needs infer this principleThat faith will 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. 220 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. Faulc. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. K. Phil. 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 curst? K. Phil. Good reverend father, make my person your's, 230 And tell me, how you would bestow yourself. 240 The |