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;-plagued for her,
And with her plagued; 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!

ELL. 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 canker'd grandame's will! K PH. Peace, lady; pause, or be more temperate:

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,
Confronts 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 ordinance,b
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 in smoke,
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,
Craves harbourage within your city walls.

K. PHI. When I have said, make answer 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:
For this down-trodden equity, we tread

In warlike march these greens before your town;
Being no further enemy to you,
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
To pay that duty, which you truly owe,

To him that owes (4) it,-namely, this young prince:

And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspéct, have all offence seal'd up;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And, with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in

peace.

But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,

"Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

CIT. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects;

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 witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's
breed,-

BAST. Bastards, and else.

[Aside.

K. JOHN. To verify our title with their lives.
K. PHI. As many, and as well-born bloods as

CIT. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both.
K. JOHN. Then God forgive the sin of all those
souls,

That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

K. PHI. Amen, Amen!-Mount, chevaliers !
to arms!

BAST. St. George, that swindg'd the dragon, and e'er since

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,"
Teach us some fence!-Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah [to AUSTRIA], with your
lioness,

I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide,
And make a monster of you.

Aust.
Peace; no more.
BAST. O, tremble, for you hear the lion

roar!

K. JOHN. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth,

In best appointment, all our regiments.

a Confronts your city's eyes,—] The original has comfort, which was altered by Rowe to confront. Mr. Collier's MS. annotator reads, Come 'fore your city's eyes.

b Ordinance,-] The old spelling of this word should be retained here for the measure's sake.

e The roundure-] Roundure, or, as the o.d copies spell it, rounder, means circle, from the French, rondeur.

d St. George, &c.] In the old text this passage runs thus,"St. George that swindg'd the dragon,

And ere since sits on 's horseback at mine hostess door," &c.

your

Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat. Enter
a French Herald, with Trumpets, to the gates.
FR. HER. You men of Angiers, open wide
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,
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground;
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim

Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours!

of blood

In this hot trial, more than we of France;
Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms
we bear,

Or add a royal number to the dead;
Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

BAST. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel,
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.

d

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 confirm

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

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

the custom of the actor who personated the character of Hubert to "double" with it that of the Angiers' spokesman.

eSay, shall the current of our right run on,-] So the second folio; the first has rome, a likely misprint of ronne.

d Mousing the flesh of men,-] For mousing Pope substituted a less expressive term, mouthing, which Malone very properly rejected, and restored the old word. Mousing meant gorging, devouring. Thus, in Decker's "Wonderful Year," 1603,

"Whilst Troy was swilling sack and sugar, and mousing fat venison," &c.

And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates,
Kings, of our fear; 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, (5)
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
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 favour 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,

Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth:

[Aside. I'll stir them to it :-Come, away, away! HUBERT. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to stay,

And I shall show you peace, and fair-fac'd league;
Win you this city without stroke or wound,
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field:
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

K. JOHN. Speak on, with favour; we are bent
to hear.

HUBERT. 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 he 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;
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.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in;
And two such shores to two such streams made one,

(*) Old copies, as.

trust to our strong-barred gates as the protectors, or Kings, of our fear. b These scroyles-] From the French eserouelles, scabby rogues. The lady Blanch,-] This lady was daughter to Alphonso the Ninth, King of Castile, and was niece to King John, by his sister Eleanor.

d If not complete, O say,-] The old reads:copy "If not complete of, say,-" Hanmer first suggested the alteration.

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 himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,

As we to keep this city.

BAST.

Here's a stay,"

That shakes the rotten carcase 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, and bounce;

He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his,
But buffets better than a fist of France:
Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words,
Since I first called 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

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen :

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

Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich

In titles, honours, and promotions,

As she in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any princess of the world. K. PHI. What sayst thou, boy? look in the lady's face.

LEW. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,

The shadow of myself form'd in her eye;
Which being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow :
I do protest, I never lov'd myself,
Till now infixed I beheld myself,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.
[Whispers with BLANCH.
BAST. Drawn in the flattering table of her

eye!

Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!— And quarter'd in her heart!—he doth espy Himself love's traitor: this is pity now, That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be,

In such a love, so vile a lout as he.

[Aside.

BLANCH. My uncle's will, in this respect, is

mine.

If he see aught in you, that makes him like,
That anything he sees, which moves his liking,
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or, if you will, to speak more properly,
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this, that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be
your judge,

That I can find should merit any hate.