Can hold it up. Here I and forrow fit.

Here is my throne, bid Kings come bow to it.

[Sits down on the floor.

Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor, Faulconbridge, and Auftria.

[day

K. Phil. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this bleffed Ever in France fhall be kept festival. To folemnize this day, the glorious fun Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist; Turning with fplendor of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glitt'ring gold. The yearly course that brings this day about, Shall never fee it but a holiday.

Conft. A wicked day, and not an holiday.—[Rifing. What hath this day deferv'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letter should be fet Among the high tides in the kalendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of fhame, oppreffion, perjury: Or, if it must ftand ftill, let wives with child Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, Left that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd. But on this day, let feamen 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 falfehood change!

K. Phil. By heaven, Lady, you fhall have no caufe
To curfe the fair proceedings of this day.
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?

Conft. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Refembling majefty, which, touch'd and try'd,
Proves valueless: you are forfworn, forfworn;
You came in arms to fpill my enemies blood,
But now in arms you ftrengthen it with your's.
The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war,
Is cold in amity and painted peace,

And our oppreffion hath made up this league.
Arm, arm, ye heav'ns, against thèse perjur'd Kings.

A widow cries, be husband to me, Heav'n!
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace; but ere fun-fet,
Set armed Difcord 'twixt thefe perjur'd Kings.
Hear me, oh, hear me !

Auft. Lady Conftance, peace.

Conft. War, war, no peace; peace is to me a war. O Lymoges, O Auftria! thou doft shame

That bloody fpoil: thou flave, thou wretch, thon Thou little valiant, great in villany!

Thou ever ftrong upon the ftronger fide;

[coward

Thou Fortune's champion, that doft never fight
But when her humorous Ladyship is by
To teach thee fafety! thou art perjur'd too,
And footh'ft up greatness. What a fool art thous
A ramping fool, to brag, to ftamp, and swear,
Upon my party? thou cold-blooded flave,
Haft thou not fpoke like thunder on my fide?
Been fworn my foldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy ftars, thy fortune, and thy ftrength?
And doft thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for fhame,
And hang a calve's-fkin on thofe recreant limbs.

Auft. O that a man would speak those words to me! Faulc. And hang a calve's-fkin on thofe recreant limbs.

Auft. Thou dar'ft not fay fo, villain, for thy life. Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on thofe recreant limbs.

Auft. Mithinks that Richard's pride and Richard's fall

Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.

7

What was the ground of this quarrel of the baftard to Austria, is no where specified in the prefent play: nor is there in this place, or the scene where it is first hinted at (namely the fecond of act 2.), the least mention of any reafon for it. But the story is, that Auftria, who kill'd King Richard Coeur-de-lion, wore, as the spoil of that prince, a lion's hide which had belonged to him This circumstance renders the anger of the bastard very natural, and ought not to have been omitted. In the first sketch of this play, (which Shakespear is faid to have had a hand in, jointly with William Rowley), we accordingly find this infifted upon, and I have ventured to place a few of thofe verfes here. Mr Poper

;

my

finews [fhake!

Faulc. What words are thefe? how do My father's foe clad in my father's fpoil! • How doth Alecto whisper in my ears, • Delay not, Richard, kill the villain ftrait • Difrobe him of the matchlefs monument, Thy father's triumph o'er the favages. Now, by his foul I fwear, my father's foul, Twice will I not review the morning's rife, Till I have torn that trophy from thy back; • And split thy heart for wearing it fo long. K. John. We like not this, thou doft forget thyself.

SCENE III. Enter Pandulph.

K. Phil. Here comes the holy Legate of the Pope. Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heav'n!

To thee, King John, my holy errand is :

I Pandulph, of fair Milain Cardinal,
And from Pope Innocent the Legate here,
Do in his name religiously demand

Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
So wilfully doft fpurn, and force perforce
Keep Stephen Langton, chofen Archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy fee?
This in our 'forefaid holy father's name,
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories

Can task the free breath of a facred King?
Thou canst not, Cardinal, devife a name
So flight, 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 prieft
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions.

But as we, under Heaven, are fupreme head,
So, under him, that great fupremacy,
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without th' affiftance of a mortal hand.
So tell the Pope, all rev'rence fet apart
To him and his ufurp'd authority.

K. Phil. Brother of England, you blafpheme in this. K. John. Tho' you and all the Kings of Christendom Are led fo grofsly by this meddling priest,

Dreading the curfe that money may buy out,
And by the merit of vile gold, drofs, duft,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that fale fells pardon from himself;
Tho' you, and all the rest, so grofsly led,
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish;
Yet I alone, alone, do me oppofe

Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes.
Pand. Then by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt ftand curs'd, and excommunicate;
And bleffed fhall he be that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretic;

And meritorious fhall that hand be call'd,
Canonized and worshipp'd as a faint,
That takes away by any fecret course
Thy hateful life.

Conft. O, lawful let it be,

That I have room with Rome to curfe a while.
Good Father Cardinal, cry thou, Amen,
To my keen curfes; for without my wrong
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.
Pand. There's law and warrant, Lady, for my
curfe.
Conft. 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, fince law itself is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curfe?
Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curfe,
Let
go the hand of that arch-heretic;
And raise the pow'r of France upon his head,
Unless he do fubmit himself to Rome.

Eli. Look'ft thou pale, France? do not let go thy
hand.

Conft. Look to that, devil! left that France repent, And, by disjoining hands, hell lofe a soul.Auft. King Philip, liften to the Cardinal.

Faulc. And hang a calve's-fkin on his recreant limbs. Auft. Well, ruffian, I muft pocket up thefe wrongs, Becaufe

Faulc. Your breeches beft may carry them.

K. John. Philip, what fay'ft thou to the Cardinal?

Conft. What should he fay, but as the Cardinal?
Lewis. Bethink you, father; for the difference
Is purchase of a heavy curfe from Rome,
Or the light lofs of England for a friend;
Forego the easier.

Blanch. That's the curfe of Rome.

Conft. Lewis, ftand fast; the devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new untrimmed bride *.

K. Phil. I am perplex'd, and know not what to fay. Pand. What can't thou fay, but will perplex thee.

more,

If thou ftand excommunicate and curs'd?

K. Phil. Good Rev'rend Father, make my perfor your's;

And tell me, how you would beftow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit,
And the conjunction of our inward fouls
Marry'd in league, coupled and link'd together,
With all religious ftrength of facred vows.
The latest breath that gave the found of words,
Was deep-fworn faith, peace, amity, true love,
Between our kingdoms and our royal felves.
And even before this truce, but new before,
No longer than we well could wash our hands
To clap this royal bargain up of peace,
Heav'n knows, they were befmear'd and over-ftain'd
With Slaughter's pencil; where Revenge did paint
The fearful diff'rence of incenfed Kings.

And fhall these hands, fo lately purg'd of blood,
-a new untrimmed † bride.

Blanch. The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith; But from her need.

Conft. Oh, if thou grant my need,

Which only lives but by the death of faith,

That need muft 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.

K. John. The King is mov'd, and answers not to this,
Conft. O, be remov'd from him, and answer well.
Auft. Do fo, King Philip; hang no more in doubt.
Faulc. Hang nothing but a calve's-skin, moft fweet lout,
K. Phil. I am perplex'd, &c.

ti. e. unsteady.