Lo, in this right hand, whose protection your town; To him that owes it; namely, this young prince: 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. K. 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, K. John. To verify our title with their lives. K. Phi.. As many, and as well-born bloods as those, Bast. Some bastards too. K. Phi. 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 God 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! Bast. St. George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since, Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door, Teach us some fence !-Sirrah, were I at home, And make a monster of you. Aust. Peace; no more. Bast. 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. Bast. 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. [Exeunt. Alarums and excursions, then a retreat. 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, Whose sons lye scatter'd on the bleeding ground: Many a widow's husband groveling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; 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! Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright, Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; There stuck no plume in any English crest, That is removed by a staff of France; Our colours do return in those same hands That did display them when we first march'd forth; And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come Our lusty English, all with purpled hands, 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 match'd 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 the Bastard; 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? 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, We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear, Or add a royal number to the dead; Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers, 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: Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings; And stand securely on their battlements, As in a theatre, whence they gape and point Your royal presences be rul'd by me; |