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.
K. Phil. 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.

[The French Trumpet sounds a Parley.

Enter CITIZENS upon the Walls.

Cit. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls? K. Phil. "Tis France, for England.

K. John. England, for itself:

You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,-K. Phil. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,

Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.

K. John. For your advantage; therefore, hear us first.

These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
All preparation for a bloody siege,

And merciless proceeding by these French,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
But, on the sight of us, your lawful King,
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,

Crave harbourage within your city walls.

K. Phil. When I have said, make answer to us both.

Lo, in this right hand,

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.

Then tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd 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 in.

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 the King?

And, if not that, I bring you witnesses,

Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,— Faul. Bastards, and else.

K. John. To verify our title with their lives.

K. Phil. As many, and as well-born bloods as those,

Faul. Some bastards too.

K. Phil. 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 Heaven forgive the sin of all those souls,

That to their everlasting residence,

Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's King!

K. Phil. Amen, amen!-Mount, chevaliers! to arms!

[Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.-Exeunt all but AUSTRIA and FAULCON BRIDGE.

Faul. Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and

e'er since

Sits on his horseback, at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence!-Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,

I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.

Aust. Peace; no more.

Faul. O, tremble; for you hear the lion roar. [Exeunt AUSTRIA and FAULCONBRIDGE.

Alarums.

Enter FRENCH HERALD with a TRUMPET, who sounds a Parley.

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; While 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 ENGLISH HERALD with a TRUMPET, who sounds

a Parley.

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells;

King John, your King and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day!

Our colours do return in those same hands

That did display them when we first march'd forth;
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English all with purpled hands,
Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, From first to last, the onset and retire

Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured;

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows:

One must prove greatest; while they weigh so even, We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

A Charge.

Enter the Two KINGS, with their Powers, as before. K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?

Say, shall the current of our right run on?

K. Phil. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood,

In this hot trial, more than we of France :

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 bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead,

Faul. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
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 admit ? K. Phil. Speak, Citizens, for England; who's your King?

Cit. The King of England, when we know the King. K. Phil. Know him in us, that here hold up his

right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy;, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

Cit. 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. Faul. By Heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, Kings;

Your royal presences be rul'd by me:

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:
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point:
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion;
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.

How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?

K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our
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?