From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your fovereign greatness and authority.
K. John. Now keep your holy word; go meet the French,
And from his Holiness use all your power
To stop their marches 'fore we are enflam'd.
Our discontented counties do revolt,
Our people quarrel with obedience,
Swearing allegiance, and love of foul
To stranger-blood, to foreign royalty;
This inundation of distemper'd humour
Rests by you only to be qualify'd.
Then pause not; for the present time's so fick,
That present med cine must be ministred,
Or overthrow incurable enfues.
Pand. It was my breath that blew this tempest up,
Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope:
But fince you are a gentle convertite,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war,
And make fair weather in your blustring land.
On this Afcenfion-day remember well,
Upon your oath of service to the Pope,
Go I to make the French lay down their arms.
K. John. Is this Afcenfion-day? did not the prophet
Say, that before Afcenfion-day at noon
My crown I should give off? even so I have:
I did suppose it should be on constraint,
But, heav'n be thank'd, it is but voluntary.
Baft. All Kent hath yielded, nothing there holds out But Dover-Caftle: London hath receiv'd, Like a kind hoft, the Dauphin and his powers. Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone To offer fervice to your enemy; And wild amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends. K. John. Would not my Lords return to me again, After they heard young Arthur was alive? Baft. They found him dead, and caft into the streets, An empty casket, where the jewel, life,
By fome damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away.
K. John. That villain Hubert told me he did live.
Baft. So on my foul he did, for ought he knew:
But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad?
Be great in act, as you have been in thought:
Let not the world fee fear and sad distrust
Govern the motion of a kingly eye;
Be stirring as the time, be fire with fire;
Threaten the threatner, and out-face the brow
Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviours from the great,
Grow great by your example, and put on
The dauntless spirit of refolution.
Away, and glister like the God of war
When he intendeth to become the field;
Shew boldness and aspiring confidence.
What? shall they seek the Lion in his den,
And fright him there? and make him tremble there?
Oh, let it not be faid! Forage, and run
To meet displeasure farther from the doors,
And grapple with him ere he come so nigh.
K. John. The Legate of the Pope hath been with me,
And I have made a happy peace with him;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers
Led by the Dauphin.
Baft. Oh inglorious league!
Shall we upon the footing of our land
Send fair-play-orders, and make compromise,
Infinuation, parly, and base truce,
To arms invafive? shall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd, filken Wanton brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike foil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check? let us, my Liege, to arms :
Perchance the Cardinal can't make your peace;
Or, if he do, let it at least be faid
They saw we had a purpose of defence.
K. John. Have thou the ord'ring of this present time.
Baft. Away then, with good courage; yet I know
Our party may well meet a prouder foe.
The Dauphin's Camp, at St. Edmundsbury. Enter, in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke,
Lewis. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out,
And keep it safe for our remembrance :
Return the prefident to these Lords again,
That having our fair order written down,
Both they and we perusing o'er these notes,
May know wherefore we took the facrament,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable.
Sal. Upon our fides it never shall be broken.
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear
A voluntary zeal and un-urg'd faith
To your proceedings; yet believe me, Prince,
I am not glad that such a fore of time
Should seek a plaister by contemn'd revolt,
And heal th' invet'rate canker of one wound
By making many. Oh, it grieves my foul,
That I must draw this metal from my fide
To be a widow-maker: oh, and there
Where honourable rescue, and defence,
Cry out upon the name of Salisbury.
But such is the infection of the time,
That for the health and physick of our right,
We cannot deal but with the very hand
Of stern injustice, and confused wrong.
And is't not pity, oh my grieved friends!
That we, the sons and children of this ifle,
Were born to see so sad an hour as this,
Wherein we ftep after a stranger-march
Upon her gentle bofom, and fill up
Her enemies ranks ? (I must withdraw and weep
Upon the fpot of this enforced cause)
To grace the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here?
What, here? O nation, that thou could'st remove!
That Neptune's arms who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thy self,
And grapple thee unto a Pagan shore !
Where these two christian armies might combine
The blood of malice in a vein of league,
And not mif-spend it so un-neighbourly.
Lewis.
A noble temper dost thou shew in this,
And great affections wrestling in thy bofom
Do make an earthquake of nobility.
Oh, what a noble combat haft thou fought,
Between compaffion, and a brave respect!
Let me wipe off this honourable dew,
That filverly doth progress on thy cheeks.
My heart hath melted at a a Lady' dy's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation:
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This show'r blown up by tempest of the foul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd,
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heav'n
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm.
Commend these waters to those baby-eyes
That never faw the giant world enrag'd:
Nor met with fortune, other than at feafts,
Full-warm of blood, of mirth, of goffipping.
Come, come, for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep
Into the purse of rich profperity
As Lewis himself; so, Nobles, shall you all,
That knit your finews to the strength of mine.
He fees Pandulph coming at a distance.
And even there methinks an angel speeds;
Look where the holy Legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heav'n,
And on our actions set the name of right
With holy breath.
SCENE III. Enter Pandulph.
Pand, Hail, noble Prince of France!
The next is this: King Jobn hath reconcil'd
Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and See of Rome.
Therefore thy threatning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That like a Lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lye gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in shew,
Lewis. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back:
I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at controul,
Or useful ferving-man, and inftrument
To any fovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of war,
Between this chaftis'd kingdom and my self,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire.
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that fame weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with my int'rest in this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart:
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His peace with Rome? what is that peace to me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine:
And now it is half conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's slave? what penny hath Rome born,
What men provided? what munition fent,
To under-prop this action? is't not I
That undergo this charge? who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these Ilanders shoot out
Vive le Roy, as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game
To win this easie match, plaid for a crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded fet?
No, on my foul, it never shall be faid.
Pand. You look but on the outfide of this work.
Lewis. Outside or infide, I will not return,
'Till my attempt so much be glorified,
As to my ample hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war
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