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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 light on thee
So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off,
But in despair die under their black weight.
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion !
Will 't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?
LEW. Father, to arms!
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 mouthl 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.
O, upon my knee,
Made hard with kneeling, I do
Thou virtuous Dolphin, 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?
Const. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds,
His honour: 0, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour!
LEW. I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects? do pull you on.
PAND. I will denounce a curse upon his head.
K. Phi. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from
Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty!
ELI. O foul revolt of French inconstancy!
K. JOHN. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this
ACT III Bast. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, Sc. I 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 may'st win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou may'st 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.
Lew. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune lives.
BLANCH. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
K. JOHN. Cousin, go draw our puissance together.
France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath,
A rage whose heat hath this condition:
That nothing can allay 't, nothing but blood,
The best and dearest-valu'd blood of France.
K. Phi. 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. K. John. No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie!
SCENE II. Plains near Angiers.
Alarums, excursions. Enter the Bastard, with
Bast. 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 Richard breathes.
Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT.
K. John. Hubert, keep thou this boy. Richard, make up:
My mother is assailed in our tent,
And ta’en, I fear.
My Lord, I rescu'd her; Her Highness is in safety, fear you not: But on, my Liege; for very little pains Will bring this labour to an happy end.
Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR,
ARTHUR, the Bastard, HUBERT, and Lords.
K. JOHN [to ELINOR.] So shall it be; your Grace shall
More strongly guarded. [to ARTHUR.] Cousin, look not
Thy grandam loves thee; and thy uncle will
As dear be to thee as thy father was.
ARTH. O, this will make my mother die with grief !
K. JOHN [to the Bastard.] Cousin, away for England ;
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots; their imprison'd angels
Set now at liberty: the fat ribs of Peace
Must by the hungry War be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force.
Bast. Bell, book, and candle shall not drive me back,
When gold and silver becks? me to come on.
I leave your Highness. Grandam, I will pray
(If ever I remember to be holy)
your fair safety; so, I kiss your
Eli. Farewell, gentle Cousin.
Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard.
Eli. Come hither, little Kinsman; hark, a word.
K. JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much! within this wall of flesh
There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love;
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say-
But I will fit it with some better time.
By Heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.
HUB. I am much bounden to your Majesty.
K. John. Good Friend, thou hast no cause to say so
But thou shalt have; and, creep Time ne'er so slow,
Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to say; but let it go!
The Sun is in the Heaven, and the proud Day,
Attended with the pleasures of the World,
Is all too wanton and too full of gauds
To give me audience: if the midnight bell
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound on into the drowsy ear of Night;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit, Melancholy,
Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy-thick,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot, Laughter, keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;
Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit' alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of brooded watchful Day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.
But, ah, I will not ! yet I love thee well ;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov’st me well.
HUB. So well that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By Heaven, I ’ld do it.
Do not I know thou would'st?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my Friend,
He is a very serpent in my way;
And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me: dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
And I'll keep him so
That he shall not offend your Majesty.
K. John. Death.
HUB. My Lord ?
He shall not live.
I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee;
Well, I 'll not say what I intend for thee:
Remember. Madam, fare you well :
I'll send those powers o'er to your Majesty. .
Eli. My blessing go with thee!
For England, Cousin :
Hubert shall be your man, attend on you
With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! [exeunt.
SCENE IV. The French KING's Tent.
Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and
K. Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood,
A whole armadoof convented sail
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship.
PAND. Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well.
K. Phi. What can go well, when we have run so ill ?
Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?
Arthur ta’en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain?
And bloody England into England gone,
O’erbearing interruption, spite of France ?
LEW. What he hath won, that hath he fortified:
So hot a speed with such advice dispos’d,
Such temperate order in so fierce a course,
Doth want example: who hath read or heard
any kindred action like to this?
K. Phi. Well could I bear that England had this praise,
So we could find some pattern of our shame.
Look, who comes herel a grave unto a soul,
Holding the eternal spirit against her will
In the vile prison of afflicted breath.