witchcraft with revenue cherish,
Yet I alone, alone do me oppose
Against the pope and count his friends my foes.
Then, by the lawful power that I have,
Thou shalt stand cursed 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 worshipped as a saint,
That takes away by any secret course
Thy hateful life.
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.
There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse.
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?
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.
Look'st thou pale, France? do not let go thy hand.
Look to that, devil; lest that France repent,
And by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul.
King Philip, listen to the cardinal.
And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs.
Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, Because--
Your breeches best may carry them.
Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal?
What should he say, but as the cardinal?
Bethink you, father; for the difference
Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,
Or the light loss of England for a friend:
Forego the easier.
That's the curse of Rome.
O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee here
In likeness of a new untrimmed bride.
The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,
But from her need.
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!
The king is moved, and answers not to this.
O, be removed from him, and answer well!
Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt.
Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout.
I am perplex'd, and know not what to say.
What canst thou say but will