Chapter: ACT III. SCENE 1.

France. The FRENCH KING'S tent.

[Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.]

CONSTANCE.
Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!
False blood to false blood join'd! gone to be friends!
Shall Louis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces?
It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again:
It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so;
I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man:
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick and capable of fears;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again,--not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

SALISBURY.
As true as I believe you think them false
That give you cause to prove my saying true.

CONSTANCE.
O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so
As doth the fury of two desperate men,
Which in the very meeting fall and die!--
Louis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?--
Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight;
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

SALISBURY.
What other harm have I, good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that is by others done?

CONSTANCE.
Which harm within itself so heinous is,
As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

ARTHUR.
I do beseech you, madam, be content.

CONSTANCE.
If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content;
For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy,
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great:
Of nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is a bawd to Fortune and king John--
That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John!--
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.

SALISBURY.
Pardon me, madam,
I may not go without you to the kings.

CONSTANCE.
Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee:
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

[Seats herself on the ground.]

[Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LOUIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, BASTARD,
AUSTRIA, and attendants.]

KING PHILIP.
 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day
Ever in France shall be kept festival:
To solemnize this day the glorious sun
Stays in his course and plays the alchemist,
Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold:
The yearly course that brings this day about
Shall never see it but a holiday.

CONSTANCE.
[Rising.] A wicked day, and not a holy day!
What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done
That it in golden letters should be set
Among the high tides in the calendar?
Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray that their burdens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd:
But on this day let seamen 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 falsehood change!

KING PHILIP.
By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
To curse the fair proceedings of this day.
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty?

CONSTANCE.
You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd and tried,
Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn:
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours:
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war
Is cold in amity and painted peace,
And our oppression hath made up this league.--
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings!
A widow cries: be husband to me, heavens!
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings!
Hear me, O, hear me!

AUSTRIA.
Lady Constance, peace!

CONSTANCE.
War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war.
O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame
That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward!
Thou little valiant, great in villainy!
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight
But when her humorous ladyship is by
To teach thee safety!--thou art perjur'd too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp. and swear
Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs!

AUSTRIA.
O that a man should speak those words to me!

BASTARD.
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

AUSTRIA.
Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life.

BASTARD.
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.

KING JOHN.
We like not this: thou dost forget thyself.

KING PHILIP.
Here comes the holy legate of the Pope.

[Enter PANDULPH.]

PANDULPH.
Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven!--
To thee, King John, my holy errand is.
I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,
And from Pope Innocent the legate here,
Do in his name religiously demand
Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce
Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop
Of Canterbury, from that holy see?
This, in our foresaid holy father's name,
Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee.

KING JOHN.
What earthly name to interrogatories
Can task the free breath of a sacred king?
Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name
So slight, 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 priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions:
But as we under heaven are supreme head,
So, under him, that great supremacy,
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand:
So tell the pope, all reverence set apart
To him and his usurp'd authority.

KING PHILIP.
Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.

KING JOHN.
Though you and all the kings of Christendom
Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out;
And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man,
Who in that sale sells pardon from himself;
Though you and all the rest, so grossly led,
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish;
Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose
Against the pope, and count his friends my foes.

PANDULPH.
Then by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate:
And blessed shall he be that doth revolt
From his allegiance to an heretic;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd,
Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.

CONSTANCE.
O, lawful let it be
That I have room with Rome to curse awhile!
Good father Cardinal, cry thou amen
To my keen curses: for without my wrong
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right.

PANDULPH.
There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse.

CONSTANCE.
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, since law itself is perfect wrong,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse?

PANDULPH.
Philip of France, on peril of a curse,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic,
And raise the power of France upon his head,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome.

ELINOR.
Look'st thou pale, France; do not let go thy hand.

CONSTANCE
Look to that, devil; lest that France repent
And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul.

AUSTRIA.
King Philip, listen to the cardinal.

BASTARD.
And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.

AUSTRIA.
Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,
Because--

BASTARD.
Your breeches best may carry them.

KING JOHN.
Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal?

CONSTANCE.
What should he say, but as the cardinal?

LOUIS.
Bethink you, father; for the difference
Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,
Or the light loss of England for a friend:
Forgo the easier.

BLANCH.
That's the curse of Rome.

CONSTANCE.
O Louis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here
In likeness of a new uptrimmed bride.

BLANCH.
The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,
But from her need.

CONSTANCE.
O, if thou grant my need,
Which only lives but by the death of faith,
That need must 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!

KING JOHN.
The king is mov'd, and answers not to this.

CONSTANCE.
O be remov'd from him, and answer well!

AUSTRIA.
Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt.

BASTARD.
Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout.

KING PHILIP.
I am perplex'd, and know not what to say.

PANDULPH.
What canst thou say, but will perplex thee more,
If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd?

KING PHILIP.
Good reverend father, make my person yours,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
This royal hand and mine are newly knit,
And the conjunction of our inward souls
Married in league, coupled and link'd together
With all religious strength of sacred vows;
The latest breath that gave the sound of words
Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love,
Between our kingdoms and our royal selves;
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,--
Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd
With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint
The fearful difference of incensed kings:
And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood,
So newly join'd in love, so strong in both,
Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet?
Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven,
Make such unconstant children of ourselves,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm;
Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage-bed
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,
And make a riot on the gentle brow
Of true sincerity? O, holy sir.
My reverend father, let it not be so!
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose,
Some gentle order; and then we shall be bless'd
To do your pleasure, and continue friends.

PANDULPH.
All form is formless, order orderless,
Save what is opposite to England's love.
Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church,
Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse,--
A mother's curse,--on her revolting son.
France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue,
A chafed lion by the mortal paw,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold.

KING PHILIP.
I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith.

PANDULPH.
So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith;
And, like a civil war, sett'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 swor'st 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;
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, swears 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 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 fight on thee,
So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off,
But in despair die under the black weight.

AUSTRIA.
Rebellion, flat rebellion!

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

LOUIS.
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!--ay, 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.

CONSTANCE.
O, upon my knee,
Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,
Thou virtuous Dauphin, 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?

CONSTANCE.
That which upholdeth him that thee upholds,
His honour:--O, thine honour, Louis, thine honour!

LOUIS.
I muse your majesty doth seem so cold,
When such profound respects do pull you on.

PANDULPH.
I will denounce a curse upon his head.

KING PHILIP.
Thou shalt not need.--England, I will fall from thee.

CONSTANCE.
O fair return of banish'd majesty!

ELINOR.
O foul revolt of French inconstancy!

KING JOHN.
France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour.

BASTARD.
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 mayst win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst 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.

LOUIS.
Lady, with me: with me thy fortune lies.

BLANCH.
There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.

KING 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,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,--
The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood of France.

KING PHILIP.
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.

KING JOHN.
No more than he that threats.--To arms let's hie!

[Exeunt severally.]

 In walk all the shiny, happy people, holding hands: King John and King Philip, accompanied by Louis, Blanche, Queen Eleanor, the Bastard, Austria, and all their attendants. The Kings are so tickled with the arranged marriage they've, well...arranged, that they are, quite literally, holding hands. King Philip makes a toast about what a wonderful, holy day it is. That gets Constance off her tuffet. She stands up and tells everybody within shouting distance that it's actually a "wicked day," not a "holy day." Major party faux pas. King Philip tells her to pipe down. After all, they gave Arthur a bunch of land so he could be Duke of One Place and Earl of Something Else. But Constance won't have it. Next she starts in on Austria, accusing him of being a coward. Austria is miffed, especially when the Bastard starts rubbing it in. King John steps in to keep the peace--but that ends up being unnecessary. Just then, in walks somebody who makes everyone shut up: Cardinal Pandolf, an ambassador from the Pope. Pandolf asks King John why he refuses to support the Pope's choice for the next Archbishop of Canterbury. Time for a history snack to go with that wedding cake. In 1207, King John had an argument with Pope Innocent III. The problem was that the Pope wanted a friend of his, Stephen Langton, to become Archbishop of Canterbury, but John wanted another guy, John de Gray, Bishop of Norwich. Now, back to the play. So, being an obedient monarch who does whatever the Church says, King John is now going to back down and tell the Pope he's sorry, right? WRONG. Instead, King John makes a speech about how the Pope has absolutely no right to meddle in any king's affairs, because a king is appointed by God to rule over his kingdom. By this line of reasoning, everybody else--including the Pope--should just butt out. Brain Snack: Here, King John refers to a political theory called "divine right." The theory just says that kings have a god-given right to rule because God has hand-picked them to be monarchs. Shakespeare's kings are always running around citing this theory so other people won't try to boss them around or bump them off the throne. King John says he's not going to let some lame "Italian priest" meddle in English affairs. King Philip goes, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, King John! You can't talk smack about the Pope!" But King John doesn't listen. He says the Church is corrupt, and he couldn't care less if he's booted out of the Church. In response, Pandolf goes, "Fine. King John, you're excommunicated." Not only that, but Pandolf says that the Church will be super pleased with anybody who kills John. Brain Snack: This probably reminded the play's original audience of Shakespeare's monarch, Queen Elizabeth I. In 1570, Elizabeth was excommunicated by Pope Pius V, who wanted a Catholic monarch on England's throne. Then, in 1580, Pope Gregory XIII made a big announcement that if someone wanted to go ahead and kill Elizabeth, it wouldn't be a sin. Constance takes this as an opportunity to curse King John a bit more. Now Pandolf tells King Philip to break up his alliance with King John. There is some confusing back and forth, as different sides try to pull King Philip one way or the other. Louis, Austria, and Constance are trying to get him to break up his alliance with King John. Blanche, Eleanor, and King John want him to keep it. Philip has a hard time making up his mind. And so, he turns to Pandolf again, and makes a big speech about how his family and John's have just become one through the marriage of Louis and Blanche. Not to mention the fact that they were at war with each other until, oh, maybe an hour ago? Is Pandolf really asking them to give this all up and break the peace? Pandolf says, "You bet I am." Then he tells King Philip that, if he doesn't make war against King John ASAP, he's going to end up on the Church's list of enemies. When Philip protests, Pandolf beats him over the head with an extremely long and complicated speech. This speech basically boils down to saying: you swore loyalty to the Church first; you can't be loyal to King John without being disloyal to the Church; therefore, you should honor your original agreement and break your ties with John. This same basic idea gets repeated several times in the speech, only in different language. When Pandolf is done talking, Austria and Louis encourage Philip to make war against King John. Blanche is shocked at Louis's attitude: is he really going to make war against his bride's family on their wedding day? Meanwhile, Constance tries to persuade Philip to go for it. Finally, King Philip announces that, fine, he won't be friends with King John anymore. Blanche is pretty bummed-- her divided loyalties mean that she will be grieving no matter how the battle turns out. After King John and King Philip spout some horrible threats at each other, each king heads back with his posse to his own army in order to get ready for battle.

