Holds hand with any Princess of the world.
K. Phil. What fay'ft thou, boy? look in the Lady's face. Lewis. I do, my Lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wond'rous miracle;
The shadow of myfelf form'd in her eye;
Which being but the fhadow of your fon,
Becomes a fun, and makes your fon a shadow:
I do protest, I never lov'd myself
Till now infixed I beheld myfelf,
Drawn in the flatt'ring table of her eye.
[Whispering with Blanch. Faulc. Drawn in the flatt'ring table of her eye! Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow! And quarter'd in her heart! he doth espie Himfelf love's traitor: this is pity now,
That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be, In fuch a love, fo vile a lout as he.
Blanch. My uncle's will in this respect is mine.
If he fee ought in you, that makes him like,
That any thing he fees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease tranflate it to my will:
Or if you will, to fpeak more properly,
I will enforce it eafily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,
That all 1 fee in you is worthy love,
Than this; that nothing do I fee in you,
(Tho' churlish thoughts themselves fhould be your judge) That I can find fhould merit any hate.
K. John. What fay these young ones? what fay you, my niece?
Blanch. That fhe is bound in honour ftill to do
What you in wildom ftill vouchsafe to fay.
K. John. Speak then, Prince Dauphin, can you love this
Lady?
Lewis. Nay, afk me, if I can refrain from love,
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
K. John. Then do I give Volqueen, Touraine, Maine, Poitiers, and Anjou, thefe 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 fon and daughter to join hands.
K.Phi. It likes us well; young Princes, clofe your hands. Auft. And your lips too; for, I am well affur'd, That I did fo, when I was firft affur'd.
K. Philip. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made :
For at St. Mary's chapel prefently
The rites of marriage fhall be folemniz'd:
Is not the Lady Conftance in this troop?
I know, she is not; for this match made up
Her prefence would have interrupted much.
Where is the and her fon, tell me, who knows?
Lewis. She's fad and paffionate at your Highness' tent.
K. Philip. And, by my faith, this league, that we have
Will give her fadness 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.
K. John. We will heal up all,
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britain,
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Conftance
Some speedy meffenger bid her repair
To our folemnity: I truft, we fhall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in fome measure fatisfy her fo,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as hafte will fuffer us,
To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp.
[Exeunt all but Faulconbridge.
Faulc. Mad world, mad Kings, mad compofition! John, to ftop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:
And France, whofe armour Confcience buckled on,
Whom Zeal and Charity brought to the field,
As God's own foldier, rounded in the ear
With that fame purpofe-changer, that fly devil,
That broker, that ftill 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 lofe
But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity,-
Commodity, the biafs of the world,
The world, which of itself is poifed well,
Made to run even, upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing biafs,
This fway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this fame biafs, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapt on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a refolv'd and honourable war,
To a moft bafe and vile-concluded peace..
And why rail I on this commodity ?
But for becaufe he hath not wooed me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would falute my palm;
But that my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail;
And fay, there is no fin but to be rich:
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To fay, there is no vice but beggary.
Since Kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my Lord; for 1 will worship thee!
SCENE, the French King's Pavilion.
Enter Conftance, Arthur and Salisbury.
ONE to be marry'd! gone to fwear a peace!
Falfe blood to falfe blood join'd! gone to be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch thofe provinces ?
It is not fo, thou haft mis-spoke, mif-heard;
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again,
It cannot be; thou doft but fay, 'tis fo.
I truft, I may not truft 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 punifh'd for thus frighting me,
For I am fick, and capable of fears;
Oppreft with wrongs, and therefore full of fears
A widow, hufbandlefs, fubject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears,
And tho' thou now confefs thou didst but jeft,
With my vext fpirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What doft thou mean by fhaking of thy head?
Why doft thou look fo fadly on my fon?
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 fad figns 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 falfe,
That give you caufe to prove my faying true.
Conft. Oh, if thou teach me to believe this forrow,
Teach thou this forrow how to make me die ;
And let belief and life encounter fo,
As doth the fury of two defp'rate men,
Which, in the very meeting, fall and die.
Lewis wed Blanch! O boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?
Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy fight:
This news hath made thee a moft ugly man.
Sal. What other harm have I, good Lady done,
But fpoke the harm that is by others done?
Conft. Which harm within itself so heinous is,
As it makes harmful all that fpeak of it.
Arth. I do befeech you, mother, be content. Conft. If thou, that bidft me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and fland'rous to thy mother's womb, Full of unpleafing blots, and fightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, fwart, prodigious, Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks; I would not care, I then would be content: For then I fhould 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'ft with lillies boast, And with the half-blown rofe. But Fortune, oh She is corrupted, chang'd, and, won from thee, Adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; And with her golden hand hath pluckt on France To tread down fair refpect of fovereignty, And made his Majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune, and to John, That ftrumpet Fortune, that ufurping Joba! Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forfworn ? Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave these woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.
Sal. Pardon me, Madam,
I may not go without you to the Kings.
Conft. Thou may'ft, thou fhalt, I will not go with thee. I will instruct my forrows to be
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