What fince thou fwor'ft, is fworn against thy felf, For that which thou haft fworn to do amifs, And being not done, where doing tends to ill, And Falfhood, Falfhood cures, as Fire cools Fire By what thou fwear'ft, against the thing thou fwear'ft: And better Conqueft never canft thou make, So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off, Baft. Will't not be? Will not a Calves-skin ftop that Mouth of thine? Blanch. Upon thy Wedding-day? Against the Blood that thou haft married? What, fhall our Feaft be kept with flaughter'd Men? D Which Which 'till this time my Tongue did ne'er pronounce; Conft. O, upon my Knee, made hard with kneeling, Alter not the Doom fore-thought by Heav'n. Blanch. Now fhall I fee thy Love, what Motive may Be ftronger with thee than the Name of Wife? Conft. That which upholdeth him, that thee upholds, His Honour. Oh thine Honour, Lewis, thine Honour. Lewis. I muse your Majefty doth feem fo cold, When fuch profound Refpects do pull you on? Pand. I will denounce a Curfe upon his Head. [thee. K. Philip. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from Conft. O fair return of banish'd Majefty. Eli. O foul revolt of French Inconftancy. K. John. France, thou shalt rue this Hour within this Hour. Baft. Old Time the Clock-Setter, that bald Sexton, Time, Is it as he will? Well then, France fhall rue. Blanch. The Sun's o'ercaft with Blood: Fair Day adieu. Lewis. Lady, with me, with me thy Fortune lyes. France, I am burn'd up with inflaming Wrath, A Rage, whofe heat hath this condition; That nothing can allay, nothing but Blood, The Blood and deareft valu'd Blood of France. K. Philip. Thy Rage fhall burn thee up, and thou fhall turn To Alhes, e'er our Blood fhall quench that Fire: Look to thy felf, thou art in jeopardy. K. John. No more than he that threats. To Arms let's hie. [Exeunt. Alarms, Excursions: Enter Baftard with Auftria's Head. Baft. Now by my Life, this Day grows wondrous hot, Some aiery Devil hovers in the Sky, And pours down mifchief. Auftria's Head lye there, While Philip breathes. K. John. Hubert, keep this Boy. My Mother is affailed in our Tent, And ta'en, I fear. Philip, make up; Baft. My Lord, I refcued her: [Exeunt. Alarms, Excurfions, Retreat. Enter King John, Elinor, Arthur, Baftard, Hubert, and Lords. K. John. So fhall it be; your Grace fhall ftay behind So ftrongly guarded: Coufin, look not fad, 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. Set at liberty: The fat ribs of Peace Muft by the hungry now be fed upon: Ufe our Commiffion in its utmost force. Baft. 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 fafety; fo I kifs your Hand. Eli. Farewel, gentle Coufin. K. John. Coz, farewel. Eli. Come hither little Kinfman, 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, D And, And, my good Friend, thy voluntary Oath Hub. I am much bounden to your Majefty. K. John. Good Friend, thou haft no caufe to fay fo yet, But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er fo flow, Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good. I had a thing to say, but let it go: The Sun is in the Heav'n, and the proud Day, Had bak'd thy Blood, and made it heavy, thick, Or if that thou couldst fee me without Eyes, K. John. Do not I know thou wouldft? And wherefoe'er this Foot of mine doth tread, He He lyes before me; doft thou understand me? Thou art his Keeper. Hub. And I'll keep him fo, That he shall not offend your Majefty, K. John. Death. Hub. My Lord? K. John. A Grave, Hub. He fhall not live. K. John. Enough. I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee, K. John. For England, Coufin, go. [Exeunt. Enter King Philip, Lewis, Pandulpho, and Attendants. K. Philip. So by a roaring Tempeft on the Flood, A whole Armado of convicted Sail Is fcatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet go well. Arthur's ta'en Prifoner? Divers dear Friends flain? O'er-bearing Interruption, fpight of France. Lewis. What he hath won, that hath he fortify'd: K. Philip. Well could I bear that England had this Praife, So we could find fome Pattern of our Shame. Enter Conftance. Look, who comes here? A Grave unto a Soul, Holding th'eternal Spirit against her Will, |