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At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
You royal presences, be rul'd by me;
Do like the Mutines of Jerusalem;
Be friends a while, and both conjunctly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town.
By east and west let France and England mount
Their batt’ring cannon charged to the mouths ;
Till their foul-fearing clamours have braul'd dowa
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city.
I'd play inceffantly upon these 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 shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion ;
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states ?
Smacks it not something of the policy?
K. John. Now by the sky that hangs above our

heads,
I like it well. France, shall we knit our pow'rs,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground,
Then, after, fight who shall be King of it?

Faulc. And if thou hast the mettle of a King,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peevith town,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,
As we will ours, against these faucy walls;
And when that we have dash'd them to the ground,
Why, then defy each other; and, pell-inell,
Make work upon ourselves for heav'n or hell.
K. Phil. Let it be so; say, where will you

assault: K. John. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom.

Auft. I from the north.

K. Phil. Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town *.

Cit.

bullets on this town, Faulc. O prudent difcipline! from north to fouth ;

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Cit. Hear us, great Kings ; vouchsafe a while to

ftay, And I shall thew you peace, and fair-face'd league ; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Refcue 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 lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love, ambitious, fought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, Is the young Dauphin every way compleat : If not compleat, oh say, he is not fhe; And she again wants nothing, (to name want), If want it be not, that she is not he. He is the half-part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such a fhe : And the a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. Oh! two such filver currents, when they join, Do glorify the banks that bound them in. And two such fhores, to two such streams made one, 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 : for at this match, With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, The mouth of paffage shall we fling wide ope, And give you entrance; but without this match, The sea enraged is not half so deaf, Lions so confident, mountains and rocks Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth, J'll ftir them to't ; cume, away, away! Cit. Hiar us great Kings, &c.

So free from motion; no, not, Death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.

Faulc. Here's a stay,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death
Out of his rags. Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks and feas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
He speaks plain cannon-fire, and smoak and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue.
Our ears are cudgelld; not a word of his,
But buffets better than a fist of France.
Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words,
Since I first call'd my brother's father dad.

Eli. Son, lift to this conjunction, make this match, Give with our niece a dow’ry large enough ; For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown, That yon green boy shall have no fun to ripe The bloom, that promiseth a mighty fruit. I see a yielding in the looks of France. Mark, how they whisper; urge them, while their souls Are capable of this ambition ; Lelt zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft petitions, pity and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was.

Cit. Why answer not the double Majesties This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town? King Phil. Speak, England, firit, that hath been for

ward first To speak unto this city. What say you?

K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely sop, Can in this book of beauty read, I love, Her dowry shall weigh equal with a Queen. For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers, And all that we upon this side the sea, Except this city now by us besiege’d, Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed ; and make her rich In titles, honours, and promotions ; VOL. III.

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As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phil. What fay'st thou, boy? Look in the Lady's

face.
Lewis. I do, my Lord; and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wond'rous miracle *.
I do protest I never lov'd myfelf,
Till now, infixed, I beheld myself
Drawn in the flatt’ring table of her eye.

[Whispering with Blanch. Faulo. Drawn in the flatt'ring 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, [be, That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd there should In such a love, so vile a lout as he.

Blanch. My uncle's will in this refpect is mine. If he fee aught in you, that makes him like, That any thing he sees, which moves his liking, I can with ease translate it to my will: Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will inforce it easily to my love. Further I will not flatter you, my Lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this ; that nothing do I see in you (Though churlifh thoughts themselves should be your That I can find should merit

any

hate. [judge) K. John. What say these young ones? what say you,

my niece ?

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

K.John. Then do I give Volqueslen, Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,

-wondrous miracle;
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ;
Which being but ihe Shadow of your son,
Becomes a fun, and makes your son a shadow.
I do protett, & in

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With her to thee; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.
Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd 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;
For at Saint Mary's chapel presently
The rites of marriage shall be folemniz'a.
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?
I know she is not; for this match made up
Her presence would have interrupted much.
Where is she and her son, tell me, who knows?
Lewis. She's sad and passionate at your Highness

tent.
K. Phil. And, by my faith, this league that we have
Will give her sadness very

little

[made,
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow-lady? in her right we came ;
Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way
To our own 'vantage.

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 folemnity. I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook'd for, unprepared pomp.

[Exeunt all but Faulconbridge.

S CE N E VI.
Faul. Mad world, mad Kings, mad composition !
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,

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close your hards.
Aujt. And ycur lips too; for, I am well assus'd,
That I did 10, when I was frit aflur’d.
K. Pbil. Now, citizers, or.

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