Eli. I like thee well; Wilt thou forsake thy What woman-post is this? hath she no hus

Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin :
Who says it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

Enter CHATILLON.

K. Phi. 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,

SCENE 1.-France.-Before the Walls of Whose leisure I have staid, have given him

Angiers.

Enter, on one side, the ARCHDUKE of Austria,
and Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of
France, and Forces; LEWIS, CONSTANCE,
ARTHUR, and Attendants.

Lew. Before Angiers well met, brave Aus-
tria.-

Arthur, that great fore-runner of thy blood,
Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave:
And, for amends to his posterity,
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation

Of thy unnatural uncle, English John:
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome

hither.

Arth. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's
death,

The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of

war:

I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
Lew. A noble boy! Who would not do thee
right?

Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd
shore,

Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring
tides,

And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the
main,

That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
Const. O take his mother's thanks, a widow's
thanks,

time

To land his legions all as soon as 1:
His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Até, 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 bumours 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 made 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

Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
[Drums beat.
To parly or to fight; therefore, prepare.

K. Phi. How much unlook'd for is this ex

pedition!

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, PEMBROKE, and Forces.

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

If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to hea-
Our just and lineal entrance to our own!

ven!

Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct Their proud contempt that beat his peace to heaven.

K. Phi. Peace be to England; if that war

return

Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength,

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 our's should be a work of thine; That thou has under-wrought his lawful king But thou from loving England art so far, Outfaced infant state, and done a rape Cut off the sequence of posterity, Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ;Aust. The peace of heaven is their's, that lift These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of

To make a more requital to your love.

their swords

his:

This little abstract doth contain that large,
Which died in Geffrey; and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.
That Geffrey was thy elder brother boru,
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'ermasterest ?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great
To draw my answer from thy articles ?
commission, France,

K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that stirs
In any breast of strong authority,
good thoughts

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. Phi. 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 father.

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

Aust. Peace!

Bast. Hear the crier.

Aust. 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;

Sirrab, 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. Phi. Lewis, determine what we shall do
straight.

Lew. Women and fools, break off your con-
ference.-

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:-1 do defy thee,
France.

Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand;
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee inore
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 granda kingdom, and it' grandam will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a tig:
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 ine.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he

weeps.

Const. Now shame upon you, whe'r she does,

I 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 cauker'd grandam's will!
K. Phi. Peace, lady; pause, or be more tem-
perate:

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 warned us to the
walls?

K. Phi. lis France, for England.
K. John. England, for itself:
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,-
K. Phi. You loving men of Augiers, Arthur's
subjects,

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 countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd
cheeks,-
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
smoke,

in

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. Phi. When I have said, make auswer 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:

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 confirin

The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and
death!

K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?

K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king?

1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.

K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up
his right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

1 Cit. A greater power than we, denies
this;

That here come sacrifices for the field:
Perséver 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 be 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 :
all 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.
Oh! two such silver curreats, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in:
And two such shores to two such streams made
one,

And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates:
King'd of our fears; until our fears, resolv'd,
Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers
flout you, kings;

And stand securely on their battlements,
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul'd by me;
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England

monut

Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths;
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd
down

The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
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 favonr 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?

Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king,Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish town,

Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,

As we will our's, against these saucy walls:
And when that we have dash'd them to the
ground,

Why, then defy each other; and, pell-mell,
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell.
K. Phi. Let it be so:-Say, where will you
assault?

K. John. We from the west will send de-
struction

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 himseif
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.

Bast. Here's a stay,

That shakes the rotten carcass 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, aud
bounce;

He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgel'd; not a word of ls,
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. Phi. 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, Poic

tiers,

And all that we upon this side the sea
(Except this city now by us besieg'd)
Find liable to our crown and dignity,