Thefe flags of France, that are advanced here And merciless proceeding, by thefe French, 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 ; In warlike march these greens before your town; Than the constraint of hospitable zeal, Religiously Religiously provokes. Be pleased then Cit. 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. 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 witneffes, Twice fifteen thoufand hearts of England's breedFaule. (Baftards, and elfe). • 'Tis not the roundure, &c.] Roundure means the fame as the French rondeur, i. e. the circle. The word is used by Decker in his Comedy of old Fortunatus, 1600. your cries to me are mufick "And fill the facred roundure of mine ears," &c. STEEVENS. K. John. K. John. To verify our title with their lives. K. Phil. As many, and as well born bloods as thofe Faul. (Some bastards too). K. Phil.-Stand in his face to contradict his claim. Cit. 'Till you compound whofe right is worthieft, We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both. K. John. Then God forgive the fin of all those fouls, That to their everlasting refidence, Before the dew of evening fall, fhall fleet, In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! K. Phil. Amen, Amen.Mount, chevaliers! to arms! Faulc. Saint George, that fwing'd the dragon, and e'er fince Sits on his horseback at mine hoftefs' door, I'd fet an ox-head to your lion's hide, And make a monster of you. Auft. Peace! no more. [To Auftria Faulc. O, tremble; for you hear the lion roar. K. Jobn. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth In best appointment all our regiments. Faulc. Speed then to take advantage of the field. K. Phil. It fhall be fo;-and at the other hill Command the reft to stand.-God, and our right! [Exeunt. After excurfions, enter the herald of France with trumpets to the gates. F. Her. 5 Ye men of Angiers, open wide your gates, And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 5 Ye men of Angiers, &c.] This speech is very poetical and fmooth, and except the conceit of the widow's husband embracing the earth, is juft and beautiful. JOHNSON. Who, Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made yours. E. Her. Rejoice, ye men of Angiers, ring your bells; King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Their armours, that march'd hence fo filver-bright, Our colours do return in those same hands, That did display them, when we first march'd forth; Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold, From first to laft, the onset and retire Rejoice, ye men of Angiers, &c.] The English herald falls fomewhat below his antagonist. Silver armour gilt with blood is a poor image. Yet our author has it again in Macbeth, "Here lay Duncan, "His filver fkin lac'd with his golden blood. JOHNSON. 7 And, like a jolly troop of huntfmen,] It was, I think, one of the favage practices of the chafe, for all to ftain their hands in the blood of the deer, as a trophy. JOHNSON. & Heralds, from off, &c.] Thefe three fpeeches feem to have been laboured. The citizen's is the beft; yet both alike we like is a poor gingle. JOHNSON. Of Of both your armies; whofe equality Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answered blows; Strength match'd with strength, and power power: Both are alike, and both alike we like. confronted One must prove greatest :-while they weigh fo even, We hold our town for neither; yet for both. Enter the two kings with their powers, at feveral doors. K. John. France, haft thou yet more blood to caft Say, fhall the current of our right run on ? A peaceful progrefs to the ocean. K. Phil. England, thou haft not fav'd one drop of blood In this hot trial, more than we of France; Rather loft more: and by this hand I swear, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Gracing the fcrowl, that tells of this war's lofs, Faule. Ha, majefty !-how high thy glory towers, 9 mouthing the flesh of men] The old copy reads moufing STEEVENS. Why |