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Hath willingly departed with a part.
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
And God's own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that fly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-face'd gentleman, tickling Commodity,-
Commodity, the bias of the world,
“ The world, which of itself is poised well,
“ Made to run even upon even ground;
« Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
“ This sway of motion, this Commodity,
“ Makes it take head from all indifferency,
“ From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this same bias, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity ?
But for because he hath not wooed me yet :
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would falute my palm;
But that my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich.
Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail ;
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! [Exit



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А ст III. S CE N E I: 'BA

The French King's pavilion.
Enter Conftance, Arthur, and Salisbury.
Conft. One to be marry'd! 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;
Be well advis’d, tell o'er thy tale again,
It cannot be; thou dost but fay ’tis fo.
I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man.
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a King's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me;
For I am sick, and capable of fears;
Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, husbandleis, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears :
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce;
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look ļo ladly on my fon?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine ?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
Be these fad sighs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again, not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true as, I believe, you think them false,
That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. Oh, if thou teach me to believe this forrow,
Teach thou this forrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two desp’rate men,
Which in the very meeting fall and die.
Lewis wed Blanch! O boy, then where art thou?
Fránce friend with England ! what becomes of me?


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Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy fight*.

Arth. I do beseech you, mother, be content.
Confi. “ If thou that bid'st me be content, wert

grim, Ugly, and lland'rous to thy mother's womb, • Full of unpleasing blots, and lightless stains, “ Lame, foulith, crooked, swart, prodigious, “ Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks; “ I would not care ; I then would be content. “ For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou “ Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. “ 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’lt with lilies boast, “ And with the half-blown role.” But Fortune, oh! She is corrupted, change'd, and, won from thee, Adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, And made his Majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune, and to John: That ftrumpet Fortune, that ufurping John ! Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ? Invenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave these woes alone, which I alone Am bound to underbear,

Sal. Pardon me, Madam,
I may not go without you to the Kings.

Conft. Thou may'ft, thou shalt, I will not go with
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud : [thee.
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let Kings affemble: for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth

-hrook thy fight. This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, god Lady, done, Bui spoke the harin that is by others done?

Corijt. Which harm within itself fo heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it,

drike, I du befvech you, &c.


Can hold it up. Here I and sorrow lit.
Here is my throne, bid Kings come bow to it.

[Sits down on the floor.

Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor,

Faulconbridge, and Austria.
K. Phil.' 'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed
Ever in France fhall be kept festival.

To folemnize this day, the glorious fun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist;
Turning with splendor of his precious eye
The meagre cloudy earth to glitt'ring gold.
The yearly course that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holiday.

Gonft. A wicked day, and not an holiday.- [Rifing.
What hath this day deserv’d? what hath it done,
That it in golden letter should be fet
Among the high tides in the kalendar?
Nay, rather turn this day out of the week,
This day of shame, oppression, perjury:
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child
Pray, that their burthens may not fall this day,
Left that their hopes prodigiously be cross’d.
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break, that are not this day made;
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 pawnd to you my inajesty ?

Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit
Resembling majesty, which, touch'd and try'd,
Proves valueless: you are forsworn, forsworn;
You came in arms to spill my enemies blood,
But now in arms you strengthen it with your's.
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, ye heav'ns, against these perjur'd kings.


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A widow cries, be husband to me, heav'n!
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace; but ere sun-set,
Set armed Discord 'twixt these perjur'd Kings.
Hear me, oh, hear me !

Buft. Lady Constance, peace.

Const. 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 cow
Thou little valiant, great in villany!

Thou ever strong upon the stronger fide;
Thou Fortune's champion, that doit never fight
But when her humorous Ladyship is by
To teach thee fafety! thou art perjur'd too,
And footh’lt up greatness. What a fool art thou,
A ramping fool, to brag, to stamp, and swear,
Upon iny party? thou cold-blooded slave,
Halt thou not fpoke like thunder on my fide ?
Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength?
And doit thou now fall over to my foes?
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant limbs.

Auft. O that a man would speak those words to me!
Faulc. And hang a calve’s-skin on those recreant

Aujt. Thou dar'st not say fo, villain, for thy life.
Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant

Auft. * Methinks that Richard's pride, and Ri-

chard's fall
Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.


* What was the ground of this quarrel of the bastard to Austria, is no where specified in the present play: nor is there in this place, or the fcene where it is first hinted at (namely the second of act 2.) the least mention of any reason for it. But the story is, that Austria, who killid King Richard Caur-de lion, wore, as the spoil of that Prince, a lion's hide which had belonged to him. This circumstance renders the anger of the baitard very natural, and ought not to have been omitted. In the first sketch of this play, (which Shakespeare is said to have had a hand in, jointly with Wm. Rowley), we accordingly find this infifted upon, and I have ventured to place a few of those verses here. Mr. Pipe.

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