And lay this Angiers even with the ground,

But buffets better than a fist of France. Then, after, fight who shall be king of it?

Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words, Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, Since I first call'd my brother's father dad. Being wrongd as we are by this peevish town,

Eli. Son, list to this conjunction; make this match; Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,

Give with our niece a dowry large enough, As we will ours, against these saucy walls;

For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown, Why, then defy each other, and pell-mell,

That yond green boy shall have no sun to ripe Make work upon ourselves for heaven, or hell. The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.

K. Phi. Let it be so.--Say, where will you assault. I see a yielding in the looks of France ;

K. John. We from the west will send destruction Mark, how they whisper : urge them while their souls Into this city's bosom.

Are capable of this ambition, Aust. I from the north.

Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath K. Phi.

Our thunder from the south, Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Cool and congeal again to what it was.
Bast. O, prudent discipline! From north to south, Cit. Why answer not the double majesties
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth. This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

[Aside. K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away!

first Cit. Hear us, great kings : vouchsafe a while to stay, To speak unto this city: what say you ? And I shall show you peace, and fair-fac'd league ; K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Win you this city without stroke, or wound ;

Can in this book of beauty read, I love, Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen: That here come sacrifices for the field.

For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

And all that we upon this side the sea, K. John. Speak on, with favour: we are bent to hear. (Except this city now by us besieg'd)

Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch, Find liable to our crown and dignity, Is niecel to England : look upon the years

Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid.

In titles, honours, and promotions, If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,

As she in beauty, education, blood, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ? Holds hand with any princess of the world. [face. If zealous love should go in search of virtue,

K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy ? look in the lady's Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?

Lew. I do, my lord ; and in her eye I find
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,

A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? The shadow of myself form'd in her eye,
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,

Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete :

Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow. If not complete of, say, he is not she;

I do protest, I've never lov'd myself, And she again wants nothing, to name want,

Till now infixed I behold myself If want it be not, that she is not he:

Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. He is the half part of a blessed man,

[Whispers with BLANCH. Left to be finished by such a' she;

Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her eye, And she a fair divided excellence,

Hang’d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.

And quarter'd in her heart, he doth espy 0! two such silver currents, when they join,

Himself love's traitor : this is pity now, Do glorify the banks that bound them in;

That hang’d, and drawn, and quarter'd, there should be, And two such shores to two such streams made one, In such a love, so vile a lout as he. Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,

Blanch. My uncle's will in this respect is mine : To these two princes, if you marry them.

If he see aught in you, that makes him like, This union shall do more than battery can

That any thing he sees, which moves his liking, To our fast-closed gates; for, at this match,

I can with ease translate it to my will ;
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,

Or if you will, to speak more properly,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, I will enforce it easily to my love.
And give you entrance; but, without this match, Farther I will not flatter you, my lord,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,

That all I see in you is worthy love,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks

Than this,--that nothing do I see in you, More free from motion : no, not death himself Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your In mortal fury half so peremptory,

judge, As we to keep this city.

That I can find should merit any hate.
Bast.
Here's a stay,

K. John. What say these young ones ? What say
That shakes the rotten carcase of old death
Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed,

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, and seas; What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say. Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,

K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin : can you love As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.

this lady? What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love,
He speaks plain cannon-fire, and smoke, and bounce; For I do love her most unfeignedly.
He gives the bastinado with his tongue :

K. John. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Our ears are cudgell’d; not a word of his,

Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,

you, my niece ?

your hands.

With her to thee; and this addition more,

John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, Full thirty thousand marks of Engļish coin.

Hath willingly departed with a part ; Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal,

And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, Command thy son and daughter to join hands. Whom zeal and charity brought to the field, K. Phi. It likes us well.-Young princes, close As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear

[They join hands. With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, Aust. And your lips too; for, I am well-assurd, That broker that still breaks the pate of faith, That I did so, when I was first assur'd?.

That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, K. Phi. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids Let in that amity which you have made;

Who having no external thing to lose For at saint Mary's chapel presently

But the word maid -cheats the poor maid of that; The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd.--

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity,Is not the lady Constance in this troop?

Commodity, the bias of the world ; I know, she is not; for this match, made up,

The world, who of itself is poised well, Her presence would have interrupted much.

Made to run even, upon even ground,
Where is she and her son ? tell me, who knows. Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,

Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. This sway of motion, this commodity,
K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we have Makes it take head from all indifferency,
Will give her sadness very little cure.. [made, From all direction, purpose, course, intent:
Brother of England, how may we content

And this same bias, this commodity,
This widow'd lady? In her right we came,

This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, Which

we,

God knows, have turn’d another way, Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
To our own vantage.

Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aima,
K. John.
We will heal up all;

From a resolv'd and honourable war,
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,

To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And earl of Richmond, and this rich fair town And why rail I on this commodity :
We make him lord of.--Call the lady Constance: But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Some speedy messenger bid her repair

Not that I have nos power to clutch my hand,
To our solemnity.—I trust we shall,

When his fair angels would salute my palm; If not fill up the measure of her will,

But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Yet in some measure satisfy her so,

Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. That we shall stop her exclamation.

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,

And say, there is no sin, but to be rich; To this unlook'd for, unprepared pomp.

And being rich, my virtue then shall be, (Exeunt all but the Bastard.--The Citizens retire To say, there is no vice but beggary. from the walls.

Since kings break faith upon commodity, Bast. Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition ! Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee. [Exit.

ACT III.

Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? SCENE I.-The Same. The French King's Tent.

Then speak again; not all thy former tale, Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY. But this one word, whether thy tale be true. Const. Gone to be married ? gone to swear a peace ? Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false, False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends ? That give you cause to prove my saying true. Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces ? Const. O! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard :

Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again :

And let belief and life encounter so, It cannot be; thou dost but say 't is so.

As doth the fury of two desperate men, I trust, I may not trust thee, for thy word

Which in the very meeting fall, and die, Is but the vain breath of a common man:

Lewis marry Blanch! 0, boy ! then where art thou ? Believe me, I do not believe thee, man:

France friend with England! what becomes of me ? I have a king's oath to the contrary.

Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight : Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,

This news hath made thee a most ugly man. For I am sick, and capable of fears ;

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears ; But spoke the harm that is by others done A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;

Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, A woman, naturally born to fears;

As it makes harmful all that speak of it.
And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest, Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content.
With my vex'd spirits, I cannot take a truce,

Const. If thou, that bidd'st me be content, wert But they will quake and tremble all this day.

grim, What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ? Ugly, and slanderous to thy mother's womb, Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?

Full of unpleasing blots, unsightlyø stains, What means that hand upon that breast of thine ? Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,

Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?

For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou

Aust.

Lady Constance, peace! Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.

Const. War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy,

0, Lymoges ! 0, Austria ! thou dost shame Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great: That bloody spoil: thou slave, thou wretch, thou Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,

coward ;
And with the half-blown rose. But fortune, 0 ! Thou little valiant, great in villainy!
She is corrupted, chang’d, and won from thee: Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John;

Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France But when her humorous ladyship is by
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,

To teach thee safety! thou art perjur'd too,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.

And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, France is a bawd to fortune, and king John;

A ramping fool, to brag, and stamp, and swear, That strumpet fortune, that usurping John !

Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ? Envenom him with words, or get thee gone,

Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend And leave those woes alone, which I alone

Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ?
Am bound to under-bear.

And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Sal.
Pardon me, madam,

Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
I may not go without you to the kings.

And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt: I will not go with Aust. O, that a man should speak those words to me! thee.

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. I will instruct my sorrows to be proud,

Aust. Thou dar’st not say so, villain, for thy life. For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop.

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. To me, and to the state of my great grief,

K. John. We like not this : thou dost forget thyself. Let kings assemble ; for my grief 's so great,

Enter PANDULPH. That no supporter but the huge firm earth

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of the pope. Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;

Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven. Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

To thee, king John, my holy errand is.

[She sits on the ground. I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, BLANCH, And from Pope Innocent the legate here,

ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA, and Attendants. Do in his name religiously demand,
K. Phi. ’T is true, fair daughter; and this blessed Why thou against the church, our holy mother,
Ever in France shall be kept festival :

[day, So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce, To solemnize this day, the glorious sun

Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist,

Of Canterbury, from that holy see? Turning, with splendour of his precious eye,

This, in our 'foresaid holy father's name, The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :

Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. The yearly course, that brings this day about,

K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories Shall never see it but a holyday.

Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day! [Rising. Thou canst not, cardinal, devise a name
What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done, So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous,
That it in golden letters should be set,

To charge me to an answer, as the pope.
Among the high tides, in the calendar ?

Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England, Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;

Add thus much more,—that no Italian priest This day of shame, oppression, perjury:

Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; Or if it must stand still, let wives with child

But as we under heaven are supreme head, Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, So, under heaven, that great supremacy, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd :

Where we do reign, we will alone uphold, But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ;

Without th' assistance of a mortal hand. No bargains break, that are not this day made ; So tell the pope; all reverence set apart This day all things begun come to ill end ;

To him, and his usurp'd authority. Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change !

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause K. John. Though you, and all the kings of ChristenTo curse the fair proceedings of this day.

dom, Have I not pawnd to you my majesty ?

Are led so grossly by this meddling priest,
Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit, Dreading the curse that money may buy out,
Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust,
Proves valueless. You are forsworn, forsworn; Purchase corrupted pardon of;a man,
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself;
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led,
The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war, This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish,
Is cold in amity and faint ina peace.

Yet I, alone, alone do me oppose
And our oppression hath made up this league.- Against the pope, and count his friends my foes.
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings ! Pand. Then, by the lawful power that I have,
A widow cries : be husband to me, heavens !

Thou shalt stand curs’d, and excommunicate : Let not the hours of this ungodly day

And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt
Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset,

From his allegiance to an heretic;
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings ! And meritorious shall that hand be call’d,
Hear me! O, hear me!

That takes away by any secret course

So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, Thy hateful life.

Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreet ? Const. 0! lawful let it be,

Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven, That I have room with Rome to curse awhile.

Make such unconstant children of ourselves, Good father Cardinal, cry thou amen

As now again to snatch our palm from palm; To my keen curses; for without my wrong

Unswear faith sworn; and on the marriage bed There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. Of smiling peace to march a bloody host,

Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. And make a riot on the gentle brow

Const. And for mine too: when law can do no right, Of true sincerity? O! holy sir, Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong.

My reverend father, let it not be so: Law cannot give my child his kingdom here,

Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose For he that holds his kingdom holds the law :

Some gentle order, and then we shall be bless'd Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong,

To do your pleasure, and continue friends. How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ?

Pand. All form is formless, order orderless, Pand. Philip of France, on peril of a curse,

Save what is opposite to England's love. Let go the hand of that arch-heretic,

Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, And raise the power of France upon his head, Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse, Unless he do submit himself to Rome.

A mother's curse, on her revolting son. Eli. Look’st thou pale, France ? do not let go thy France, thou may'st hold a serpent by the tongue, hand.

A caged? lion by the mortal paw, Const. Look to that, devil, lest that France repent, A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, And by disjoining hands hell lose a soul.

Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal.

K. Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith;

Aust. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath, Because

Thy tongue against thy tongue. O! let thy vow Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd; K. John. Philip, what say'st thou to the cardinal ? That is, to be the champion of our church. Const. What should he say, but as the cardinal ? What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself,

Lew. Bethink you, father; for the difference And may not be performed by thyself: Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome,

For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss, Or the light loss of England for a friend :

Is not amiss when it is truly done;
Forego the easier.

And being not done, where doing tends to ill,
Blanch.
That's the curse of Rome.

The truth is then most done not doing it.
Const. O Lewis, stand fast! the devil tempts thee The better act of purposes mistook
here,

Is to mistake again: though indirect, In likeness of a new uptrimmed' bride.

Yet indirection thereby grows direct, Blanch. The lady Constance speaks not from her faith, And falsehood falsehood cures; as fire cools fire But from her need,

Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. Const.

O! if thou grant my need, It is religion that doth make vows kept, Which only lives but by the death of faith,

But thou hast sworn against religion, That need must needs infer this principle,

By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou swear’st, · That faith would live again by death of need :

And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth, 0! then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up; Against an oath: the truth, thou art unsure Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down.

To

swear, swears only not to be forsworn; K. John. The king is mov'd, and answers not to this. Else, what a mockery should it be to swear ? Const. O! be remov'd from him, and answer well. But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; Aust. Do so, king Philip: hang no more in doubt. And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost swear. Bast. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. Therefore, thy later vows, against thy first, K. Phi. I am perplex’d, and know not what to say. Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; Pand. What canst thou say, but will perplex thee And better conquest never canst thou make, more,

Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts
If thou stand excommunicate, and curs'd ?

Against these giddy loose suggestions:
K. Phi. Good reverend father, make my person yours, Upon which better part our prayers come in,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself.

If thou vouchsafe them; but, if not, then know,
This royal hand and mine are newly knit,

The peril of our curses lights on thee, And the conjunction of our inward souls

So heavy, as thou shalt not shake them off, Married in league, coupled and link'd together But in despair die under their black weight. With all religious strength of sacred vows;

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion ! The latest breath that gave the sound of words,

Bast.

Will't not be ? Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ? Between our kingdoms, and our royal selves;

Lew. Father, to arms ! And even before this truce, but new before,

Blanch.

Upon thy wedding day? No longer than we well could wash our hands, Against the blood that thou hast married ? To clap this royal bargain up of peace,

What! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ? Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums, With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did paint Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp ? The fearful difference of incensed kings :

O husband, hear me !-ah, alack! how new And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, Is husband' in my mouth even for that name,