And I shall show you peace, and fair-faced league;
Win you this city without stroke, or wound.
Persevere 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.
O, two such silver currents, when they join,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in:

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:

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.

Faul. Here's a stay,

That shakes the rotten carcass 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?

Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad.
Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

K. Phil. What say'st 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,

Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

[KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, and
BLANCH, talk apart.

Faul. 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.

K. John. What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

Blan. That she is bound in honour still to do What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

K. John. Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; For I do love her most unfeignedly.

K. John. Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

K. Phil. It likes us well:-Young Princes, close your hands.

Now, Citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made.

[Exeunt CITIZENS from the ramparts.

Is not the lady Constance in this troop?

Lew. She is sad and passionate, at your highness's

tent.

K. Phil. Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady?

[The CITIZENS open the gates, and enter, to present the Keys of the Town.

K. John. We will heal up all :

For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne,
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of.-Call the Lady Constance,
Some speedy messenger; bid her repair

To our solemnity.

[Exit SALISBURY, L. Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,

To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp.

Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.-Exeunt in at
the gates in c. all but FAULCONBRIDGE.

Faul. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition !
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:

And France, (whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As Heaven's own soldier), rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity-
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable war,

To a most base and vile-concludea peace.—
And why rail I on this commodity?

But for because he hath not woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail,
1 And say-there is no sin, but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To say there is no vice, but beggary;
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain be my lord: for I will worship thee.

END OF ACT II.

[Exit, L

ACT III.

SCENE I.-France.-The French King's Tent near

R. U. E.

Enter ARTHUR, CONSTANCE, and SALISBURY, through
the Tent.

Con. (c.) Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!
False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch! and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not so; thou hast mis-spoke, mis-heard
I have a King's oath to the contrary-
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true?

Sal. (R. c.) As true. as, I believe, you think them
false,

That gave you cause to prove my saying true.
Con. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,

C

Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die.
Lewis marry Blanch! O, boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?
Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight.

Arth. (L. c.) I do beseech you, madam, be content. Con. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim, ugly,

Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content:
But thou art fair; and at thy birth-dear boy!
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great:
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose: but Fortune, O!
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty.
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to underbear.

Sal. Pardon me, madam,

I may not go without you to the Kings.

Con. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with thee:

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;

For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let Kings assemble; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up; here I and sorrow sit:
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

[Throws herself on the ground.

Flourish of Trumpets and Drums.

Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, AUSTRIA, ELINOR, FAULCONBRIDGE, CHATILLON, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, HUBERT, ENGLISH HERALD, FRENCH HERALD, ENGLISH and FRENCH GENTLEMEN, and GUARDS, through the Tent.

K. Phil. [Attendants, R.] 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed day

Ever in France shall be kept festival;

The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holiday.

Con. [Rising.] A wicked day, and not a holy day !— What hath this day deserved? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set, Among the high tides, in the kalendar? Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week; This day of shame, oppression, perjury: This day, all things begun come to ill end; Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

K. Phil. By Heaven, lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day: Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?

Con. You have beguiled me with a counterfeit, Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd, and tried, Proves valueless: You are forsworn, forsworn; You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with yours: The grappling vigour and rough frown of war Is cold in amity and painted peace,

:

And our oppression hath made up this league:
Arm, arm, you Heavens, against these perjured kings!
A widow cries; be husband to me, Heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings!
Hear me, O, hear me !

[KING PHILIP sits. Aust. (R.) Lady Constance, peace.

Con, War! war! no peace! peace is to me a war. O Lymoges! O Austria thou dost shame

That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou

coward :

Thou little valiant, great in villany!

Thou ever strong upon the stronger side!
Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight,
But when her humorous ladyship is by

To teach thee safety!

Thou cold-blooded slave,

Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side?
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.
[Retires, R.
Aust. (R. c.) O, that a man should speak those words

to me!