And merciless proceeding by these French,
Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates;
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,—
Behold, the French, amaz'd, vouchsafe a parle;
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king; whose labor'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
Crave harborage within your city walls.

K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
Son to the elder brother of this man,
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys:
For this down-trodden equity, we tread

In warlike march these greens before your town.
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbor'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

1 Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects:

For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

R. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.

1 Cit. That can we not; but he that proves the king,

To him will we prove loyal: till that time,

Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world.

K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove the king? And if not that, I bring you witnesses,

Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,—
To verify our title with their lives.

K. Phi. As many, and as well-born blood as those,-
Stand in his face to contradict his claim.

1 Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both.

K. John. Then heaven forgive the sin of all those souls, That to their everlasting residence,

Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,

In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

K. Phi. Amen, Amen!-Mount, chevaliers! to arms! Faul. St. George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since

Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,

Teach us some fence!-[To AUSTRIA.] Sirrah, were I at home, At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,

I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide,

And make a monster of you.

Aust.

Peace! no more.

Faul. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar!

K. John. Up higher to the plain; where we'll set forth In best appointment all our regiments.

Faul. Speed, then, to take advantage of the field.

K. Phi. It shall be so ;-[To LEWIS.] and at the other hill Command the rest to stand.-God, and our right!

SCENE II.-The Same.

Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat.

[Exeunt.

Enter a French

Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.

F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in.
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim

Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours.

Enter an English Herald, with trumpets.

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day:

Open your gates, and give the victors way.

1 Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold From first to last, the onset and retire

Of both your armies; whose equality

By our best eyes cannot be censured:

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows; Strength matched with strength, and power confronted power; Both are alike; and both alike we like.

One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even,

We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

Enter, at one side, KING JOHN, with his power, ELINOR, BLANCH, and FAULCONBRIDGE; at the other, KING PHILIP, Lewis, AusTRIA, and forces.

K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away? Say, shall the current of our right run on?

Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,

Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep

A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood,
In this hot trial, more than we of France;
Rather, lost more: and by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,

We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead,

Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
Faul. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry, havock, kings! back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!

Then let confusion of one part confirm

The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!
K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?
K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king?
1 Cit. The king of England, when we know the king.
K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

1 Cit. A greater power than we denies all this; And, till it be undoubted, we do lock

Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates;
King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolv'd,

Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd.

Faul. By heaven, these scroyles* of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements,

As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul'd by me:-
Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamors have brawl'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I'd play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colors once again;

* Scroyles, mean fellows.

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 favor 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 powers
And lay this Angiers even with the ground;

Then, after, fight who shall be king of it?

Faul. An if thou hast 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 saucy walls;

And when that we have dash'd them to the ground,
Why, then defy each other.

K. Phi. Let it be so.-Say, where will you assault?
K. John. We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's bosom.

Aust. I from the north.

K. Phi.

Our thunder from the south,

Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Faul. [Aside.] O, prudent discipline! From north to south, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth:

I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away!

1 Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to stay, And I shall show you peace, and fair-fac'd league; Win you this city without stroke, or wound;

Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,

That here come sacrifices for the field:

Perséver not, but hear me, mighty kings.

K. John. Speak on, with favor; 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;

And two such shores 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 passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance: but 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 the city.

Faul.

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 seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,

As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!

What cannoneer father'd this lusty blood?

He speaks plain cannon,-fire and smoke and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;

Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his,
But buffets better than a fist of France;

Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words,
Since I first called my brother's father dad.

Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough:

For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie

Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown,

That yond' green boy shall have no sun 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,

Lest 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?

K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city: what say you?

K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read, "I love,"

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen:

For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers,

And all that we upon this side the sea

(Except this city now by us besieg'd)

Find liable to our crown and dignity,

Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich

In titles, honors, and promotions,

As she in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any princess of the world.

K. Phi. 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 form'd in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,