Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; And, like a civil war, set’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 sworst, 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;4 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, swear 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 those giddy loose suggestions:

+ Is not amiss, when it is truly done;] i. e. that, which you have sworn to do amiss, is not amiss, (i. e. becomes right) when it is done truly (that is, as he explains it, not done at all;) and being not done, where it would be a sin to do it, the truth is most done when

you do it not: Other parts of this speech have puzzled the commentators, who have, in turn, puzzled their readers.

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 !
Bast.

Will't not be? Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine?

Lew. 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!-ah, 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. Const.

O,

upon my knee, Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom Fore-thought 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.

be measures-] The measures, it has already been more than once observed, were a species of solemn dance in our author's time.

I muse,] i. e. I wonder. YOL. IV.

R

K. Phi. Thou shalt not need:–England, I'll fall

from thee. 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 hour. Bast. 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 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 lies.
Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my

life dies. K. 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, Than nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, 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!

[Exeunt.

Alarums, Excursions. Enter the Bastard, with

AUSTRIA's Head. 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 Philip breathes.

Enter King John, Arthur, and HUBERT.
K. John. Hubert, keep this boy:-Philip, make

up:
My mother is assailed in our tent,
And ta’en, I fear.
Bast.

My lord, I rescu'd her;
Her highness is in safety, fear you not:
But on, my liege; for very
Will bring this labour to an happy end. [Exeunt.

little pains

SCENE III,

The same.

Alarums; Excursions; Retreat. Enter King John,

ELINOR, Arthur, the Bastard, HUBERT, and
Lords.
K. John. So shall it be; your grace shall stay
behind,

[To ELINOR. So strongly guarded.-Cousin, look not sad:

[To ARTHUR.

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. Cousin, [To the Bastard.] away for

England; haste before: And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags Of hoarding abbots; angels imprisoned Set thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now 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.)
For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand.

Eli. Farewell, iny gentle cousin.
K. John.

Coz, farewell.

[Exit Bastard. Eli. Come hither, little kinsinan; hark, a word.

She takes ARTHUR aside. 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.

7 Bell, book, and candle-] In an account of the Romish surse given by Dr. Grey, it appears that three candles were extinguished, one by one, in different parts of the execration.