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. BLANCHE. That’s the curse of Rome. CONSTANCE. O Louis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. BLANCHE. 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 blest To do your pleasure and continue friends.