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.

Enter Chatillon.

K. Phil. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.-
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 Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king deceas'd:
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. Phil. 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, Pem-
broke, and Forces.

K. John. Peace be to France; if France in peace permit

Our just and lineal entrance to our own!

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. Phil. Peace be to England; if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace!
England we love; and, for that England's sake,
With burden of our armour here we sweat:
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,
Outfaced 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 Geffiey; 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'er-masterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great commis
sion, France,

To draw my answer from thy articles?

K. Phil. From that surpernal judge, that stirs good thoughts

In any breast of strong authority,

To look into the blots and stains of right.
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. Phil. 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 thy 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 fa

ther.

Const. There's a good grandam, boy, that would

blot thee. Aust. Peace! Bast. Aust.

Hear the erier.

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 ears With this abundance of superfluous breath?

K. Phil. 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 grandam, child. Const. Do, child, go to it' grandam, child; Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig: There's a good grandam.

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.
Eh. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does, or no!
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee;
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. Bedlam, 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, plagu'd for her,

And with her plague, her sin; his 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.

Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will; A woman's will; a canker'd grandam's will!

K. Phil. 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.
Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls.
1 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 sub-
jects,

Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.

K.John. For our 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:
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,
Confront 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 couptercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks,--
Bebokl, 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, 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,

To him that owes it; namely, this young prince:
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,

peace.

Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against the 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
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
"Tis not the roundure 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 challeng'd it?
Or sball we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's sub-
jects;

For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in. 1 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,-
Bast. Bastards, and else.

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

K. Phil. As many, and as well-born bloods as those,-
Bast. Some bastards too.

K. Phil.-Stand in his face, to contradict his claim. 1 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 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!

Bast. St. George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er
since,

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,
Teach us some fence!-Sirrab, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, [To Aus.] with your lioness,
I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.

1 Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to
stay,

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 hear.

1 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch, Is near to England; Look upon the years 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, O say, he is not she;

And she again wants nothing, to name 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 morial 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 seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,

As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood?

He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce;

He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgell'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 souls
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

1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

K. Phil. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city: What say you?

K. John. If that the dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read, I love,

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers,
And all that we upon this side the sea
(Except this city now by us besieg'd.)
Find liable to our erown 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. Phil. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's

face.

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 should be,

In such a love, so vile a lout as he.

Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine: If he see aught in you, that makes him like, That any thing 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 your judge,)

That I can find should merit any hate.

K. John. What say these young ones? What say you, my nieee?

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do What you in wisdom shall 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,
Maine,

Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee; and this addition more,

Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.-
Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
K. Phil. It likes us weli;-Young princes, close your
hands.

Aust. And your lips too; for, I am well assur'd,
That I did so, when I was first assurd.

K. Phil. 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'

tent.

K. Phil. And, by my faith, this league that we have made,

Will give her sadness very little cure.-
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.

We will heal up all,

K. John.
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,
And earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him ford 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 re-
tire 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:
Aud 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!

ACT III.

SCENE I-The same.

[Exit.

The French King's Tent. Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury. Constance.

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 provinces?
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, 'tis so:
I trust, I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man:
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, hushandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears;

And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest,
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false,
That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; And let belief and life encounter so, As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which, in the very meeting, fall and die.Lewis marry Blanch! Oh, boy, then where art thon? France friend with England! what becomes of me?Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight; This news hath made thee a most ugly man. Sul. What other harm have 1, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done? Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content. Const. If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, I would not care, I then would be content; For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose: but fortune, O! She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee; She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to fortune, and king John; That strumpet fortune, that usurping Jobn:Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave those woes alone, which I alone Ar bound to under-bear.