3.1.0.1998Enter King John, King Philip, [Lewis the] Dauphin, Blanche, [Queen] Eleanor, [the Bastard, and] 999Austria. 'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessèd day
3.1.21001Ever in France shall be kept festival.
3.1.31002To solemnize this day the glorious sun
3.1.41003Stays in his course and plays the alchemist,
3.1.51004Turning with splendor of his precious eye
3.1.61005The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold.
3.1.71006The yearly course that brings this day about
[Rising] A wicked day and not a holy day.
3.1.101009What hath this day deserved? what hath it done,
3.1.131012Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
3.1.151014Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
3.1.161015Pray that their burdens may not fall this day,
3.1.171016Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crossed;
3.1.181017But on this day let seamen fear no wreck;
3.1.191018No bargains break that are not this day made;
3.1.201019This day all things begun come to ill end;
3.1.211020Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change.
By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
3.1.231022To curse the fair proceedings of this day.
You have beguiled me with a counterfeit
3.1.261025Resembling majesty, which, being touched and tried,
3.1.271026Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn.
3.1.281027You came in arms to spill mine enemy's blood,
3.1.291028But now in arms you strengthen it with yours.
3.1.301029The grappling vigor and rough frown of war
3.1.321031And our oppression hath made up this league.
3.1.331032Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings!
3.1.341033A widow cries, be husband to me, heavens.
3.1.361035Wear out the days in peace, but ere sunset
3.1.371036Set armèd discord 'twixt these perjured kings.
Hear me, O, hear me! Lady Constance, peace.
War, war, no peace. Peace is to me a war.
3.1.411041That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward,
3.1.431043Thou ever strong upon the stronger side;
3.1.441044Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight
3.1.461046To teach thee safety -- thou art perjured too,
3.1.471047And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
3.1.481048A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear
3.1.501050Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
3.1.511051Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend
3.1.521052Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
3.1.541054Thou wear a lion's hide? Doff it for shame,
3.1.551055And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
O that a man should speak those words to me!
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
Thou dar'st not say so villain for thy life.
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
We like not this, thou dost forget thyself.
Here comes the holy legate of the Pope.
Hail you anointed deputies of heaven. --
3.1.671068Why thou against the Church, our holy mother,
3.1.681069So willfully dost spurn and force perforce
3.1.711072This in our foresaid Holy Father's name,
What earthly name to interrogatories
3.1.741075Can test the free breath of a sacred king?
3.1.781079Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England
3.1.791080Add thus much more: that no Italian priest
3.1.811082But as we, under [god], are supreme head,
3.1.851086So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart,
Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.
Though you and all the kings of Christendom
3.1.891090Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
3.1.901091Dreading the curse that money may buy out,
3.1.911092And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
3.1.931094Who in that sale sells pardon from himself;
3.1.941095Though you, and al the rest so grossly led,
3.1.951096This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish,
3.1.971098Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.
Then, by the lawful power that I have,
3.1.991100Thou shalt stand curst and excommunicate,
Thy hateful life. O, lawful let it be
3.1.1091111There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.
There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse.
And for mine too. When law can do no right,
3.1.1141116For he that holds his kingdom holds the law.
3.1.1151117Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong,
Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Look'st thou pale France? Do not let go thy hand.
Look to that, devil, lest that France repent
King Philip, listen to the Cardinal.
And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.
Well ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,
Your breeches best may carry them.
Philip, what sayest thou to the Cardinal?
What should he say, but as the Cardinal?
Bethink you father, for the difference
Forgo the easier. That's the curse of Rome.
O Lewis, stand fast; the devil tempts thee here
The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,
O, if thou grant my need,
3.1.1421145That faith would live again by death of need.
3.1.1431146O, then tread down my need, and faith mounts up,
The king is moved and answers not to this.
O, be removed from him, and answer well.
Do so King Philip, hang no more in doubt.
Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout.
I am perplexed, and know not what to say.
What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more
Good reverend father, make my person yours,
3.1.1561159Married in league, coupled, and linked together
3.1.1581161The latest breath that gave the sound of words
3.1.1591162Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love
3.1.1621165No longer than we well could wash our hands,
3.1.1641167Heaven knows they were besmeared and over-stained
3.1.1651168With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint
3.1.1671170And shall these hands, so lately purged of blood,
3.1.1701173Play fast and loose with faith? So jest with heaven,
3.1.1731176Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage bed
3.1.1791182Some gentle order, and then we shall be blest
All form is formless, order orderless,
3.1.1831186Therefore to arms! Be champion of our church,
3.1.1841187Or let the church our mother breathe her curse,
3.1.1861189France, thou mayest hold a serpent by the tongue,
3.1.1891192Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.
I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.
So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith,
3.1.1931196Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow
3.1.1941197First made to heaven, first be to heaven performed,
3.1.1961199What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself
3.1.2001203And being not done where doing tends to ill,
3.1.2051208And falsehood falsehood cures, as fire cools fire
3.1.2061209Within the scorchèd veins of one new burned.
3.1.2091212By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st,
3.1.2151218And most forsworn to keep what thou dost swear.
3.1.2221225If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know
3.1.2251228But in despair die under their black weight.
Rebellion, flat rebellion!
Rebellion, flat rebellion! Will't not be?
3.1.2281231Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine?
Father, to arms!
Upon thy wedding day?
3.1.2321235What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men?
3.1.2331236Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums,
3.1.2361239Is "husband" in my mouth!
[Kneeling] Even for that name,
3.1.2371240Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce,
[Kneeling] O, upon my knee made hard with kneeling,
[To Lewis] Now shall I see thy love. What motive may
3.1.2441247Be stronger with thee than the name of wife?
That which upholdeth him that thee upholds,
3.1.2461249His honor. -- O, thine honor, Lewis, thine honor.
[To King Philip] I muse your majesty doth seem so cold
I will denounce a curse upon his head.
Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from thee.
O fair return of banished majesty!
O foul revolt of French inconstancy!
France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.
Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time,
3.1.2551258Is it as he will? Well then, France shall rue.
[Rising] The Sun's o'ercast with blood. Fair day adieu.
3.1.2611264Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayest win; --
3.1.2621265Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayest lose; --
3.1.2631266Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; --
Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.
There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
Cousin, go draw our puissance together.
3.1.2701273France, I am burned up with inflaming wrath,
3.1.2721275That nothing can allay, nothing but blood --
3.1.2731276The blood and dearest-valued blood of France.
Thy rage shall burn thee up and thou shalt turn
3.1.2751278To ashes ere our blood shall quench that fire.
No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie.