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.
All form is formless, order is unordered, Except for what goes against England’s love. Therefore, to arms! Be the champion of our church, Or let the church, our mother, curse her rebellious son. France, you may hold a serpent by the tongue, A raging lion by the deadly paw, A starving tiger by the tooth, But keeping that hand in peace, which you now hold,
Cardinal Pandulph · Act 3, Scene 1
Pandulph is telling Philip that loyalty to England means betraying France, and betraying vows is the only honorable path. The line survives because it strips away pretense—the Cardinal is saying openly that morality bends to power. It defines the play's vision of politics as a place where nothing holds together except force and the willingness to name lies as truth.
I am perplex’d, and know not what to say.
I am confused, and don’t know what to say.
King Philip of France · Act 3, Scene 1
Philip stands paralyzed as the Cardinal threatens him with curses if he keeps his promises, unable to see a way forward that doesn't betray someone. The brevity of the line is its power—a king reduced to confusion, caught between loyalty and fear. It shows a man experiencing the moment when words and reason stop working and only force remains.
So makest 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 sworest 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 makest 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 later 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 light on thee So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, But in despair die under their black weight.
By doing that, you make faith an enemy to faith; And like a civil war, you set one oath against another, Your tongue against your own tongue. Oh, let your vow First made to heaven, first be kept with heaven, That is, to defend our church! What you swore before is now sworn against yourself And can’t be done by you, For what you swore to do wrong Is not wrong when done rightly, And not doing it, when it tends to harm, Makes truth most true by avoiding it: The better course of mistaken purposes Is to make another mistake again; though indirect, Yet indirection becomes direct, And falsehood corrects falsehood, as fire cools fire In the burned veins of one newly scorched. Religion is what keeps vows; But you’ve sworn against religion, By swearing against what you swore, And make an oath the proof of your truth Against another oath: you’re unsure To swear the truth, but swear just not to break it; Otherwise, what a joke would it be to swear! But you swear just to break your oath; And most broken, to keep the oath you swore. Therefore, your later vows against your first Are rebellion against yourself; And you can never conquer more Than to arm your nobler parts Against these foolish ideas: Our prayers are with your better part, If you’re willing to listen. But if not, then know The weight of our curses will fall on you So heavy, you won’t be able to escape them, And you’ll die in despair under their load.
Cardinal Pandulph · Act 3, Scene 1
Pandulph is twisting Philip's logic, arguing that swearing one oath against another oath makes the contradiction itself virtuous. The passage is terrifying because it sounds almost reasonable—the language of sophistry spoken with the weight of religious authority. It shows how power hides behind reasoning, how words can make evil sound like obedience, and why Philip is helpless before it.
