Where honourable rescue, and defence,
Cries 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, O my grieved friends!
That we, the sons and children of this isle,
Were born to see so sad an hour as this;
Wherein we step after a stranger march
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
Her enemies' ranks, (I must withdraw and weep
Upon the spot 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 re-
move!
That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself,
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 to spend it so unneighbourly!
Lew. A noble temper dost thou show in this;
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom,
Do make an earthquake of nobility.
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Between compulsion, and a brave respect!
Let me wipe of this honourable dew,
That silverly doth progress on thy chceks:
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears,
Being an ordinary inundation;
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
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 saw the giant world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Come, come for thou shalt thrust thy hand as
deep
Into the purse of rich prosperity,
As Lewis himself:-so, nobles, shall you all, That knit your sinews to the strength of minc.
Enter PANDULPH, attended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake :
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To gige us warrant from the hand, of heaven;
And on our actions set me name of right,
With holy breath.
Pand. Hail, noble Prince of France!
The next is this,
King John 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 threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show.
Lew. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not
back;
I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars
Between this chástis'd kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it,
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come you 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
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop 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 islanders shout out,
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have. I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match play'd for a crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lew. Outside or inside, 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,
And cull'd these firy spirits from the world,
To outlook conquest, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.
[Trumpet sounds. What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us?
Enter the Bastard, attended.
Bast. According to the fair play of the world, Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: My holy Lord of Milan, from the King I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; And, as you answer, I do know the scope And warrant limited unto my tongue.
Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, And will not temporize with my entreaties; He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The youth says well: - Now hear our English King;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepar'd; and reason too, he should:
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops,
The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand, which had the strength, even at
your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
To crouch in litter of your stable planks;
lock'd up in chests and trunks;
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Thinking his voice and armed Englishman;
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement?
No Know, the gallant monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.
And you degenerate, your ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
Of
your dear mother England, blush for shame:
For your own ladies, and pale-visag'd maids,
Like Amazons. come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neelds to launces, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace;
We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler,
Pand. Give me leave to speak.
Bast. No, I will speak.
Lew. We will attend to neither:
Strike up the drams; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest, and our being here.
Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will
cry out;
And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start
And echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand
(Not trusting to this halting legate here,
|