Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother.
Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an embassy
To Germany, there, with the emperor,
To treat of high affairs touching that time:
Th' advantage of his absence took the king,
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's;
Where how he did prevail, I shame to speak:
But truth is truth; large lengths of seas and shores
Between my father and my mother lay,--
As I have heard my father speak himself,-
When this same lusty gentleman was got.
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd
His lands to me; and took it, on his death,
That this, my mother's son, was none of his;
And, if he were, he came into the world
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time.
Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine,
My father's land, as was my father's will.
K. John. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him:
And, if she did play false, the fault was hers;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands
That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother,
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his?
In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept
This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world;"
In sooth, he night: then, if he were my brother's,
My brother might not claim him; nor your father,
Being none of his, refuse him: This concludes:
My mother's son did get your father's heir;
Your father's heir must have your father's land.
Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no force,
To dispossess that child which is not his?
Bast. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir,
Than was his will to get me, as I think.
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulcon-
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land;
Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-Lion,
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside?
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape,
And I had his, sir Robert his, like him;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods;
My arms suchi eel-skins stuff'd; my face so thin,
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, [goes;
Lest men should say, Look, where three-farthings
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land,
'Would I might never stir from off this place,
I would give it every foot to have this face;
It would not be sir Nob in any case.
Eli. I like thee well: Wilt thou forsake thy fortune,
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?
I am a soldier, and now bound to France. [chance:
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my
Your face hath got five hundred pound a-year;
Yet sell your face for five pence, and 't is dear.
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.
Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Bast. Our country manners give our betters way.
K. John. What is thy name?
Bast. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun;
Philip, good old sir Robert's wife's eldest son.
K. John. From henceforth bear his name whose
Kneel thou down, Philip, but arise more great;
Arise sir Richard, and Plantagenet. [hand;
Bast. Brother, by the mother's side, give me your
My father gave me honour, yours gave land:
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, sir Robert was away.
Eli. The very spirit of Plantagenet !
I am thy grandame, Richard; call me so.
Bast. Madam, by chance, but not by truth: What
Something about, a little from the right, [though?
In at the window, or else o'er the hatch;
Who dares not stir by day must walk by night;
And have is have, however men do catch:
Near or far off, well won is still well shot;
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.
K. John. Go, Faulconbridge; now hast thou thy desire
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire.Come, madam, and come, Richard; we must speed For France, for France; for it is more than need. Bast. Brother, adieu; Good fortune come to thee!
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.
[Exeunt all but the Bastard.
A foot of honour better than I was;
But many a many foot of land the worse.
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady.
Good den, sir Richard,-God-a-mercy, fellow:
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter:
| For new-made honour doth forget men's names;
T is too respective, and too sociable,
For your conversion. Now your traveller,
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess,
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd,
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries:-My dear sit,
(Thus, leaning on my elbow, I begin,)
I shall beseech you-That is question now
And then comes answer like an Absey book:
O, sir, says answer, at your best command;
At your employment; at your service, sir:
No, sir, says question, I, sweet sir, at yours:
And so, ere answer knows what question would,
Saving in dialogue of compliment;
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean, and the river Po,
It draws toward supper in conclusion so.
But this is worshipful society,
And fits the mounting spirit like myself:
For he is but a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation;
(And so am I, whether I smack, or no ;)
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion to deliver
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth:
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet to avoid deceit I mean to learn;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising.-
But who comes in such haste, in riding robes?
What woman-post is this? hath she no husband,
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?"
Enter Lady Faulconbridge, and James Gurney.
O me! it is my mother :-How now, good lady?
What brings you here to court so hastily?
[is he?
Lady F. Where is that slave, thy brother? where
That holds in chase mine honour up and down?
Bast. My brother Robert? old sir Robert's son?
Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man?
Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so?
Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend
Sir Robert's son: Why scorn'st thou at sir Robert?
He is sir Robert's son; and so art thou.
Bast. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while?
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.
Bast.
Philip?-sparrow!-James,
There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.
[Exit Gurney.
Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son;
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast:
Sir Robert could do well; Marry-to confess-
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it;
We know his handy-work:-Therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg.
Lady F. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain should'st defend mine hon-
What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?
Bast. Knight,knight, good mother,-Basilisco-like:
What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder.
But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son;
I have disclaim'd sir Robert and my land;
Legitimation, name, and all is gone:
Then, good my mother, let me know my father;
Some proper man, I hope: Who was it, mother?
Lady F. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
Lady F. King Richard Coeur-de-Lion was thy
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd [father:
To make room for him in my husband's bed.
Heaven! lay not my transgression to my charge,
That art the issue of my dear offence,
Which was so strongly urg'd, past my defence.
Bast. Now, by this light, were 1 to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly:
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,-
Subjected tribute to commanding love,-
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father!
Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell.
Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin:
Who says it was, he lies; I say, 't was not. [Exe.
ACT II.
SCENE I.-France. Before the walls of Angiers.
Enter on one side, the Archduke of Austria, and
Forces; on the other, Philip, King of France, and
Forces; Lewis, Constance, Arthur, and Attend.
Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great fore-runner of thy blood,
Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave:
And, for amends to his posterity,
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John;
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-Lion's death,
The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war:
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
Lew. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?
Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king : till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms. [thanks,
Const. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength,
To make a more requital to your love.
Aust. The peace of Heaven is theirs that lift their
In such a just and charitable war.
[swords
K. Phi. Well then, to work; our cannon shall be
Against the brows of this resisting town.
Call for our chiefest men of discipline,
To cull the plots of best advantages:
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy,
Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood:
My Lord Chatillon may from England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood,
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.
K. Phi. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arrived.-
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.
Chat. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I:
His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Até, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceased:
And all the unsettled humours of the land,-
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery, voluntaries,
With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens,-
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
[Drums beat.
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.
K. Phi. How much unlook'd-for is this expedition!
Aust. By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence;
For courage mounteth with occasion:
Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.
Enter King John, Elinor, Blanch, the Bastard,
Pembroke, and Forces.
K. John. Peace be to France; if France in peace
Our just and lineal entrance to our own! [permit
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven!
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven.
K. Phi. Peace be to England; if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace!
with burden of our armour here we sweat:
England we love; and, for that England's sake,
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
utfaced infant state, and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face;-
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his :
This little abstract doth contain that large,
Which died in Geffrey; and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son : England was Geffrey's right,
And this is Geffrey's, in the name of God.
How comes it then, that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great com.
To draw my answer from thy articles?
mission, France,
K. Phi. From that supernal Judge, that stirs good
To look into the blots and stains of right.
In any breast of strong authority, [thoughts
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy:
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong;
And, by whose help, I mean to chastise it.
K. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse; it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?
Const. Let me make answer;-thy usurping son.
Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king;
That thou may'st be a queen, and check the world
Const. My bed was ever to tay son as true,
As thine was to thy husband: and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey,
Than thou and John, in manners being as like
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think,
His father never was so true begot;
It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother.
Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy
father.
[blot thee.
Const. There's a good grandame, boy, that would
Aust. Peace!
Bast. Hear the crier.
Aust.
What the devil art thou?
Bast. One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An 'a may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard.
I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right;
Sirrah, look to 't; i' faith, I will, i' faith.
Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe!
Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him,
As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass :-
But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back;
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.
Aust. What cracker is this same, that deafs our
With this abundance of superfluous breath? [ears
King,-Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.
Lew. Women and fools, break off your conference.
King John, this is the very sum of all,-
England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee:
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms?
K. John. My life as soon:-I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand;
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee more
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win :
Submit thee, boy.
Eli.
Come to thy grandame, child.
Const. Do, child, go to it' grandame, child;
Give grandame kingdom, and it' grandame will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig:
There's a good grandame.
Arth.
Good my mother, peace!
I would that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that 's made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does, or
Confronts your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,
Who painfully, with much expedient march,
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks,-
Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle :
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in. Your king, whose labour'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
Craves harbourage within your city walls.
K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both. Lo, in this right hand, whose protection Is most divinely vow'd upon the right Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet, Son to the elder brother of this man," And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys: For this down-trodden equity, we tread In warlike march these greens before your town; Being no further enemy to you, Than the constraint of hospitable zeal, In the relief of this oppressed child, Religiously provokes. Be pleased then To pay that duty, which you truly owe, His grandame's wrongs, and not his mother's To him that owes it-namely, this young prince: Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; [eyes, Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up; Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd To do him justice, and revenge on you. Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth! Call not me slanderer; thou, and thine, usurp The dominations, royalties, and rights
Of this oppressed boy: This is thy eldest son's son,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee;
Thy sins are visited in this poor child;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
K. John. Bedlain, have done.
Const.
I have but this to say,
That he's not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagued for her
And with her plague; her sin is injury,
Her injury the beadle to her sin;
All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her; A plague upon her!
Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will, that bars the title of thy son.
[will:
Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked
A woman's will; a canker'd grandame's will!
K. Phi. Peace, lady; pause, or be more temperate:
It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim
To these ill-tuned repetitions.
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak,
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's.
Trumpet sounds. Enter Citizens upon the walls.
Cit. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls?
K. Phi. 'T is France for England.
K. John.
England, for itself:
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects.
K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's sub-
Our trumpet call d you to this gentle parle. [jects,
K. John. For our advantage;-Therefore, hear
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath;
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls;
All preparation for a bloody siege
And merciless proceeding, by these French,
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
'T is not the rounder of your old-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challenged it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?
Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects;
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me
Cit. That can we not: but he that proves the king,
To him will we prove loyal; till that time,
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world.
K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove
And if not that, I bring you witnesses, [the king?
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,-
Bast. Bastards, and else.
K. John. To verify our title with their lives.
K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as
Bast. Some bastards too.
[those,-
K. Phi. Stand in his face, to contradict his claim.
Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest.
We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both.
K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those
That to their everlasting residence,
[souls,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!
K. Phi. Amen, amen!-Mount, chevaliers! to
arms!
[e'er since
Bast. St. George, that swindg'd the dragon, and
Sits on his horseback, at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence!-Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, [to Austria] with your lioness,
I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.
Aust.
Peace; no more.
Bast. O, tremble; for you hear the lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plam; where we 'll set
In best appointment, all our regiments. [forth,
Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the field.
K. Phi. It shall be so;-[to Lewis] and at the
other hill
Command the rest to stand.-God, and our right!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.-The same.
Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat. Enter
a French Herald, with Trumpets, to the Gates.
F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in;
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground;
Many a widow's husband groveling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French;
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours!
Enter an English Herald, with Trumpets.
E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your
King John, your king and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day!
Their armours, that inarch'd hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood;
There stuck no plume in any English crest,
That is removed by a staff of France;
Our colours do return in those same hands
Hubert. A greater power than we denies all this;
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates,
Kings, of our fear; until our fears, resolv'd,
Be by some certain king purg'd and denos'd.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout
you, kings;
And stand securely on their battlements,
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul'd by me;
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths;
Till their soul fearing clamours have brawl'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
And part your mingled colours once again;
That done, dissever your united strengths,
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point:
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
Out of one side her happy minion;
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?
That did display them when we first march'd forth; K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.
Hubert. Heralds, from off our towers we might be.
From first to last, the onset and retire [hold,
Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured: [blows:
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd
Strength match'd with strength, and power con-
fronted power:
Both are alike; and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest; while they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither; yet for both.
Enter, at one side, King John, with his Power:
Elinor, Blanch, and the Bastard; at the other,
King Philip, Lewis, Austria, and Forces.
K. John, France, hast thou yet more blood to cast
Say, shall the current of our right roam on, [away?
Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'erswell
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean?
K. Phi. England, thou hast not saved one drop of
In this hot trial, more than we of France; [blood,
Rather, lost more: And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we
Or add a royal number to the dead;
[bear,
Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood cf kings is set on fire!
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry, havoc, kings! back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!
K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet adnit?
K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your
king?
[king.
Hubert. The king of England, when we know the
K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his
right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.
[heads, I like it well;-France, shall we knit our powers, And lay this Angiers even with the ground; Then, after, fight who shall be king of it? Bast. An i thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls: And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why, then defy each other: and, pell-mell, Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell. K. Phi. Let it be so :-Say, where will you assault? K. John. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom.
Aust. I from the north. K. Phi.
Our thunder from the south, Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. Bast. O prudent discipline! From north to south; Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth:
I'll stir them to it :-Come, away, away! [to stay,
Hubert. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while
And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league ;
Win you this city without stroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field:
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.
K. John. Speak on, with favour; we are bent to
Hubert. That daughter there of Spain, the lady
Is near to England; Look upon the years [Blanchi,
Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid:
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete;
If not complete of, say, he is not she;
And she again wants nothing, to nune want,
If want it be not, that she is not he:
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such a she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in:
And two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can,
To our fast-closed gates; for, at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance; but, without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion, no, not death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city. Bast. Here's a stay,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
[seas;
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? [bounce;
He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgel'd; not a word of his.
But buffets better than a fist of France:
Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words,
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad.
Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough:
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France;
Mark, how they whisper: urge them, while their
Are capable of this ambition;
Lest zeal, now melted, by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
Hubert. Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?
K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been for-
To speak unto this city: What say you? [ward first
K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely
Can in this book of beauty read, I love,
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers,
And all that we upon this side the sea
(Except this city now by us besieg'd,)
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phi. What say st thou, boy? look in the lady's
Lew. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow:
I do protest, I never lov'd myself,
Till now infixed I beheld myself,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.
[Whispers with Blanch.
Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!-
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!-
And quarter'd in her heart!-he doth espy
Himself love's traitor: This is pity now,
That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there
In such a love, so vile a lout as he. [should be,
Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine.
If he see aught in you, that makes him like,
That anything he sees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or, if you will, to speak more properly,
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this, that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be
That I can find should merit any hate. [your judge,
K. John. What say these young ones? What say
you, my niece?
Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say,
K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you
love this lady?
Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine,
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, [Maine,
With her to thee; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.
Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal,
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Aust. And your lips too; for, I am well assur'd, That I did so, when I was first assur'd. K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Let in that amity which you have made; For at saint Mary's chapel, presently, The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd. Is not the Lady Constance in this troop? I know, she is not; for this match, made up, Her presence would have interrupted much: Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows. Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness'
K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we have Will give her sadness very little cure. [made, Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came; Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way, To our own vantage. K. John. We will heal up all, For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne, And earl of Richinond;-and this rich fair town We make him lord of.-Call the lady Constance ; Some speedy messenger bid her repair To our solemnity: I trust we shall, If not fill up the measure of her will, Yet in some measure satisfy her so, That we shall stop her exclamation. Go we, as well as haste will suffer us, To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp.
[Exeunt all but the Bastard.-The Citizens retire from the walls. Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition! John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part: And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil;
That broker that still breaks the pate of faith;
That daily break-vow; he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids;-
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity
Commodity, the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even; upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.-
And why rail I on this commodity?'
But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm:
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail,
And say, there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To say, there is no vice but beggary:
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord! for I will worship thee!
SCENE I.-The same. The French King's Tent.
Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.
Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!
False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those pro-
vinces?
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, 't is so :
I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word
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