King John, this is the very fum of all; England, and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, Wilt thou refign them, and lay down thy arms? Eli. Who is 't that thou doft call ufurper, France ? Than thou and John, in manners being as like It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. Eli. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. Faulc. Hear the crier. Auft. What the devil art thou? Faulc. 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, Blanch. O, well did he become that lion's robe, Faulc. It lies as fightly on the back of him, As great Alcides' fhews upon an afs; But, afs, I'll take that burthen from your back, Or lay on that fhall make your shoulders crack. Auft. What cracker is this fame, that deafs our cars With this abundance of fuperfluous breath? King Philip, determine what we fhall do ftrait. K. Phil. Women and fools, break off your conference. King John, &c. Submit thee, boy. of France can win. Eli. Come to thy grandam, child. K. Phil. Some trumpet fummon hither to the walls Thefe men of Angiers; let us hear them fpeak, Whofe title they admit, Arthur's or John's. [Trumpet founds SCENE III. Enter a Citizen upon the walls Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig. Arth. Good my mother, peace; I would that I were low laid in my grave; Eli. His mother fhames him fo, poor boy, he weeps, Ay, with these cryftal beads heav'n fhall be brib'd, Eli. Thou monftrous flanderer of heav'n and earth! Call me no flanderer; thou and thine ufurp The domination, royalties, and rights Of this oppreffed boy; this is thy eldeft fon's foly Thy fins are vifited in this poor child; Removed from thy fin-conceiving womb. That he is not only plagued for her fin, And all for her; a plague upon her! Eli. Thou unadvifed fcold, I can produce A will that bars the title of thy fon. Confi. Ay, who doubts that? a will!—a wicked will; A woman's will, a canker'd grandam's will. K. Phil. Peace, Lady; paufe, or be It ill befeems this prefence to cry Aim ore temperate K. John. England for itself; You men of Angiers and my loving fubjects K. Phil. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's fubjects, Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle K. John. For our advantage; therefore hear us first. And merciless proceeding, by thefe French, By the compulfion of their ordinance Crave harbourage within your city-walls. K. Phil. When I have faid, make anfwer to us both, Lo! in this right hand, whofe protection Is moft divinely vow'd upon the right Of him it holds, ftands 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 thefe greens before your town: To him that owns it; namely, this young prince. With unhack'd fwords, and helmets all unbruis'd, Git. In brief, we are the King of England's fubjects; For him, and in his right, we hold this town. K. John. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in. K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove the And if not that, I bring you witneffes, Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed- K. John. To verify our title with their lives. K. Phil. As many, and as well-born bloods ag thofe Faulc. (Some baftards too). K. Phil. Stand in his face to contradict his claims. * i. e. circle, Cit. Till you compound whofe right is worthieft, We for the worthieft hold the right from both. K. John. Then God forgive the fin of all thofe fouls, That to their everlasting refidence, Before the dew of evening fall, fhall fleet, K. Phil. Amen, amen. arms! -Mount, Chevaliers, to Faulc. Saint George that fwing'd the dragon, and e'er fince Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, I'd fet an ox-head to your lion's hide *, Auft. Peace, no more. [To Auftria. Faulc. O, tremble; for you hear the lion roar. forth In beft appointment all our regiments. Faulc. Speed then to take th' advantage of the field. K. Phil. It shall be so; and at the other hill Command the reft to ftand. God, and our right! SCENE [Exeunt. IV. A long charge founded: then, after excurfions, enter the Herald of France 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, Whofe fons lie fcatter'd on the bleeding ground; And many a widow's husband groveling lies, Coldly embracing the difcolour'd earth; While victory with little lofs doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French; Who are at hand triumphantly difplay'd, *The Archduke wore a lion's hide which had belonged to Richard Coeur-de-lion, |