Upon the dancing banner of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly difplay'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's King, and yours.

Enter English Herald with Trumpets.

E. Her. (9) Rejoice, ye men of Angiers; ring your bells;

King John, your King and England's, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day.

Their armours, that march'd hence fo filver-bright,
Hither return all gilt in Frenchmens' blood..
There ftuck no plume in any English Creft,
That is removed by a staff of France.
Our Colours do return in those fame hands,
That did difplay them, when we first march'd forth;
And, like a jolly troop of huntfmen, (1) come
Our lufty English, all with purled hands

;

Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

Cit. (2) Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might be hold,

From firft to laft, the Onfet and Retire
Of both your armies, whofe equality
By our beft eyes cannot be cenfured;

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have anfwer'd blows

Strength match'd with ftrength, and power confronted

power.

Both are alike, and both alike we like;

(9) Rejoice, ye men of Angiers, &c.] The English herald falls fomewhat below his antagonift. Silver armour gilt with blood, is a poor image. Yet our author has it again in Macbeth.

Here lay Duncan,

His filver fkin lac'd with his golden blood.

(1) And, like a jolly troop of buntfmen,] It was, I think, one of the favage practices of the chafe, for all to flain their hands in the blood of the deer, as a trophy.

(2) Heralds, from off, &c.] These three fpeeches feem to have been laboured. The citizen's is the beft; yet both alike we like, is a poor jingle.

One

One must prove greatest. While they weigh fo even,
We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

SCENE V.

Enter the two Kings with their Powers, at feveral Doors.

K. John. France, haft thou yet more blood to caft away?

Say, fhall the current of our Right run on?
Whofe paffage, vext with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-fwell
With course disturb'd ev'n thy confining shores
Unless thou let his filver water keep

A peaceful progrefs to the ocean.

K. Philip England, thou haft not fav'd one drop of

blood

In this hot tryal, more than we of France;
Rather loft more. And by this hand I swear,
That fways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay by our juft-borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear;
Or add a royal number to the dead ;

Gracing the fcroul, that tells of this war's lofs,
With flaughter coupled to the name of Kings.

Faulc. Ha! Majefty,-how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of Kings is fet on fire!
Oh, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel
The fwords of foldiers are his teeth, his phangs;
And now he feafts, mouthing the flesh of men
In undetermin'd diff'rences of Kings.
Why stand these royal Fronts amazed thus ?
Cry havock, (3) Kings; back to the stained field,
You equal Potents, fiery-kindled fpirits!

Then let Confufion of one part confirm

The other's peace;

till then, blows, blood, and death, K. John. Whofe party do the townfmen yet admit ?

(3) Cry bavor, Kings; - That is, command flaughter to pro

ceed; fo in another place.

He with Atè by bis fide,
Cries, barvick!

K. Philip.

K. Philip. Speak, Citizens, for England, who's your
King?

Cit. The King of England, when we know the King?
K. Philip. Know him in us, that here hold up his
Right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear poffeffion of our perfon here ;
Lord of our prefence, Angiers, and of you.

Cit. (4) A greater pow'r, than ye, denies all this
And till it be undoubted, we do lock

Our former fcruple in our strong-barr'd
Kings are our fears,

gates.

-until our fears refolv'd

Be by fome certain King purg'd and depos'd.

Faulc. By heav'n, the Scroyles of Angiers flout you,
Kings,

And ftand fecurely on their battlements,

As in a Theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious Scenes and Acts of death.
Your royal prefences, be rul'd by me ;
Do like the Mutines of Jerufalem,

Be friends a while, and both conjointly bendi
Your fharpeft deeds of malice on this town.
By east and weft let France and England mount
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths;
Till their foul-fearing clamours have braul'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous City.
I'd play inceffantly upon thefe jades;

Even till unfenced defolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, diffever your united strengths,.
And
part your mingled Colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point.
Then in.a moment fortune fhall cull forth
Out of one fide her happy minion;
To whom in favour the fhall give the day,

(4) In former copies:

A greater pow'r, than wE, denies all this;

Kings of our fears,-] We fhould read, than ye. What power was this? their fears. It is plain therefore we should read,

Kings are our fears,i. e. our fears are the Kings which att prefent rule us.

WARBURTON.

And

And kifs him with a glorious Victory.

How like you this wild counfel, mighty States?
Smacks it not fomething of the Policy?

K. John. Now by the sky, that hangs above our heads,

I like it well. France, fhall we knit our Pow'rs,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground,
Then, after, fight who fhall be King of it?
Faulc. And if thou haft 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 ours, against these fawcy walls;
And when that we have dafh'd them to the ground,
Why then defie each other; and, pell-mell,
Make work upon ourfelves for heav'n or hell.

K. Philip. Let it be fo; fay, where will you affault ? K. John. We from the weft will fend deftruction Into this City's bofom.

uft. I from the north.

K. Philip. Our thunder from the fouth Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Faule. O prudent difcipline! from North to South?: Auftria and France shoot in each other's mouth. I'll stir them to it; come, away, away! Cit. Hear us, great Kings; vouchfafe a

stay,

while to

And I fhall fhew you peace, and fair-fac'd league;
Win you this city without ftroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
'That here come facrifices for the field;
Perfever not, but hear me, mighty Kings.

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

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 lufty love fhould go in queft of beauty, Where fhould he find it fairer than in Blanch? If * zealous love should go in fearch of virtue,

*Zealous feems here to figrify pious, or influenced by motives of religion.

Where

Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love, ambitious, fought a match at Birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ?
Such as fhe is in beauty, virtue, birth,.

Is the young Dauphin every way compleat :
If not compleat (5), oh fay, he is not the;
And she again wants nothing, (to name Want,)
If want it be not, that the is not he.

He is the half part of a bleffed man (6),、
Left to be finished by such a She :.
And the a fair divided Excellence,
Whofe fullness of perfection lies in him.

Oh! two fuch filver currents, when they join,
Do glorifie the banks that bound them in :

And two fuch fhores, to two fuch ftreams made one,
Two fuch controlling bounds fhall you be, Kings,
To these two Princes, if you marry them.
This union fhall do more than battery can,
To our faft-closed gates: for at this match (7),
With fwifter Spleen than Powder can enforce,
The mouth of paffage fhall fling wide ope,
And give you entrance; but without this match,
The fea enraged is not half fo deaf,

Lions fo confident, mountains and rocks

So free from motion; no, not death himself.
In mortal fury half fo peremptory,

As we to keep this City.

Fault. Here's a ftay (8),

That

(5) If not compleat of, fay, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer reads, Oh! fay.r (0) He is the balf Part of a bleed Man,

Left to be finished by fuch as She:] Dr. Thirlby prefcrib'd that Reading, which I have here reftored to the Text.

(7)

-at this match,

THEOBALD.

With fifter Spleen, &c.] Our authour ufes fpleen for any violent hurry, or tumultuous fpeed. So in Midfummer Night's Dream he applies Spleen to the lightening. I am loth to think that Shakefpeare meant to play with the double of match for nuptial, and the match of a gun.

(8) Here's a fay,

That shakes the rotten carcass of old death,

Out of bis rags.]

cannot but think that every reader

wishes for fome other word in the place of flay, which though it'

may