Conf. Now fhame upon you, whether the does or no! His grandam's wrong, and not his mother's fhames, Draws thofe heav'n-moving pearls from his poor eyes, Which heav'n fhall take in nature of a fee:

Ay, with these crystal beads heav'n fhall be brib'd
To do him juftice, and revenge on you.

Eli. Thou monftrous flanderer of heav'n and earth!
Conft. Thou monftrous injurer of heav'n and earth!.
Call me not flanderer; thou, and thine, ufurp
The domination, royalties and rights

Of this oppreffed boy. This is thy eldest fon's fon,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee;

Thy fins are vifited on this poor child;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the fecond generation
Removed from thy fin-conceiving womb,
K. Jobn. Bedlam, have done.
Conft. (6) I have but this to say,

(6) I bave but this to fay,

That

That be's not only plagued for her fin, But, &c.. This paffage appears to me very obfcure. The ebief difficulty arifes from this, that Conftance having told Elinor of her fin concerving womb, purfues the thought, and ufes fix through the next lines in an ambiguous fenfe, fometimes for crime, and fometimes for off-fpring.

He's not only plagued for ber fin, &t. He is not only made miferable by vengeance for her fin or crime, but her fin, her offSpring, and fhe, are made the inftruments of that vengeance, on this defcendant, who, though of the fecond generation, is plagued for ber and with ber; to whom the is not only the causes but the inftrument of evil.

The next claufe is more perplexed. All the editions read,
Plagu'd for ber,

And with ber plaque ber fon; bis injury,

Her injury, the beadle to ber fon,

All punish'd in the perfon of this child.

I point thus:

Plagu'd for ber

And with ber-Plague ber fin! bis injury

Her injury, the beadle to ber fin.

That is; inftead of inflicting vengeance on this innocent and remote defcendant, punish ber fon, her immediate offspring: then

N4

the

That he's not only plagued for her fin,

But God hath made her fin and her the plague.
On this removed iffue, plagu'd for her,
And with her. Plague her fin; his injury,.
Her injury, the beadle to her fin,

All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her, a plague upon her!

Eli. Thou unadvifed fcold, I can produce

A will, that bars the title of thy fon.

Conft. Ay, who doubts that? a willa wicked will;

A woman's will, a cankred grandam's will.

K. Phil. Peace, Lady; paufe, or be more tempe

rate :

(7) It ill befeems this prefence to cry Aim
To thefe ill tuned repetitions.

Some trumpet fummon hither to the walls
Thefe men of Angiers; let us hear them speak,
Whofe title they admit, Arthur's or John's.

SCENE III

Trumpets found

Enter a Citizen upon the Walls.

Cit. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls?
K. Phil. "Tis France for England.

the affliction will fall where it is deferved; bis injury will be ber injury, and the mifery of her fin; her fon will be a beadle, or chaftifer, to her crimes, which are now all punished in the person of this child

(7) It ill befeems this prefence to cry Aim

To these ill tuned repetitions.]

Dr. Warburton has well obferved on one of the former plays that to cry aim is to encourage. I once thought it was borrowed from archery; and that aim! having been the word of command, as we now fay prefent! to cry aim had been to incite notice, or raise attention. But I rather think, that the old word of applaufe was J'aime, I love it, and that to applaud was to cry J'aime, which the English, not eafily pronouncing, funk into aime or aim. exclamations of applaufe are ftill borrowed, as brano, and encore.

Our

K. John.

K. John. England for itself;

You men of Angiers and my loving fubjects

K. Phil. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's fubjects,

Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle

K. John. For our advantage therefore hear us firft:

Thefe flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and profpect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement.
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath
And ready mounted are they to fpit forth
Their iron indignation 'gainft your walls:
All preparations for a bloody fiege

And merciless proceeding, by thefe French,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And, but for our approach, thofe fleeping ftones,
That as a waste do girdle you about,
By the compulfion of their ordinance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havock made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But on the fight of us your lawful King,
(Who painfully with much expedient march
Have brought a counter-check before your gates,
To fave unfcratch'd your city's threatned cheeks)
Behold, the -French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle;
And now, instead of bullets wrap'd in fire,
To make a fhaking fever in your walls,
They fhoot but calm words folded up in îmoak,
To make a faithlefs error in your ears;
Which truft accordingly, kind citizens
And let in us, your King, whofe labour'd fpirits,
Fore-weary'd in this action of fwift speed,

Crave harbourage within your city-walls.

K. Philip. When I have faid, make answer to us both.

Lod in this right hand, whofe protection
Is moft divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, ftands young Plantagenet;
Son to the elder brother of, this man,
And King o'er him, and all that he enjoys...

your town:

For this down-trodden equity, we tread
In warlike march thefe greens before
Being no further enemy to you,
Than the constraint of hofpitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppreffed child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleafed then
Το pay that duty, which you truly owe
To him that owns it; namely this
young
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in afpect, hath all offence feal'd up;
Our cannon's malice vainly fhall be spent
Against the invulnerable clouds of heav'n;
And with a blessed, and unvext retire,

Prince.

With unhack'd fwords, and helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lufty blood again,
Which here we came to fpout against your town;
And leave your children, wives, and you in peace.
But if you fondly pafs our proffer'd offer,
'Tis not the rounder of your old-fac❜d walls
Can hide you from our meffengers of war;
Tho' all thefe English, and their difcipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then tell us, fhall your city call us Lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or fhall we give the fignal to our rage,
And ftalk in blood to our poffeffion?

Cit. In brief, we are the King of England's fubjects; 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 lam'd up our gates against the world.

K. Johr. Doth not the crown of England prove the King?

And

Twice not that, I bring you

witneffes,

thoufand hearts of England's breed-——

Faule. (Baftards, and elfe!)

K. John. To verify our title with their lives.

K. Phil. As many, and as well born bloods as

thofe

Faule. (Some baftards too!)

K. Phil. Stand in his face to contradict his claim.

Cit. Till you compound whofe right is worthiest, We for the worthieft hold the right from both.

K. John. Then God forgive the fin of all thofe fouls,

That to their everlafting refidence,

Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,

In dreadful trial of our kingdom's King!

K. Phil. Amen, Amen.

arms!

-Mount, chevaliers, to

Faulc. Saint George, that fwing'd the dragon, and.

e'er fince

Sits on his horfeback at mine hoftefs' door,
Teach us fome fence. Sirrah, were I at home
At your den, firrah, with your Lionefs,

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

Auft. Peace, no more.

you

[To Auftria..

Faule. O, tremble; for hear the Lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain! where we'll fet.

forth

In beft appointment all our regiments

Faule. Speed then to take th' advantage of the field. K. Phil. It fhall be fo

Command the reft to ftand.

-and at the other hill
God, and cur right!

[Exeunt

SCENE

IV.

After excurfions, enter the Herald of France with trum pets to the gates.

F. Her. (8) Ye men of Angiers, open wide your

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,
Whofe fons lye fcatter'd on the bleeding ground
And many a widow's husband groveling lies,
Coldly embracing the difcolour'd earth;
While victory with little lofs doth play

(8) re men, of Angiers, &c.

Upon

This fpeech is very poetical

and smooth, and, except the conceit of the widow's bufband embracing the earth, is just and beautiful,