Lewis.
My Lord Melun, let this be copied out,
And keep it safe for our remembrance:
Return the President to these Lords again,
That having our fair Order written down,
Both they and we, perusing o'er these Notes,
May know wherefore we took the Sacrament;
And keep our Faiths firm and inviolable.

Sal.
Upon our sides it never shall be broken.
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear
A voluntary Zeal, and an un-urg'd Faith
To your Proceedings; yet believe me, Prince,
I am not glad that such a Sore of Time
Should seek a Plaister by contemn'd Revolt,
And heal the inveterate Canker of one Wound,
By making many: Oh it grieves my Soul,
That I must draw this Mettle from my Side
To be a Widow-maker: Oh, and there
Where honourable Rescue, and Defence,
Cries out upon the Name of Salisbury.
But such is the Infection of the time,
That for the Health and Physick of our Right,
We cannot deal but with the very Hand
Of stern Injustice, and confused Wrong:
And is't not pity, oh my grieved Friends,
That we, the Sons and Children of this Isle,
Were born to see so sad an Hour as this,
Wherein we step after a Stranger, march

Upon her gentle Bosom, and fill up
Her Enemies Ranks? I must withdraw and weep
Upon the spot of this enforced Cause,
To grace the Gentry of a Land remote,
And follow unacquainted Colours here:
What here? O Nation that thou couldst remove,
That Neptune's Arms who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thy self,
And cripple thee unto a Pagan shore,
Where these two Christian Armies might combine
The Blood of Malice, in a vein of League,
And not to spend it so un-neighbourly.

Lewis.
A noble Temper dost thou shew in this,
And great Affections wrestling in thy Bosom
Doth make an Earthquake of Nobility.
Oh what a noble Combate hast thou fought,
Between Compulsion, and a brave Respect:
Let me wipe off this honourable Dew,
That silverly doth progress on thy Cheeks:
My Heart hath melted at a Lady's Tears,
Being an ordinary Inundation:
But this Effusion of such Manly Drops,
This showr blown up by tempest of the Soul,
Startle mine Eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I seen the vaulty top of Heav'n
Figur'd quite o'er with burning Meteors.
Lift up thy Brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great Heart heave away this Storm:
Commend these Waters to those Baby-eyes
That never saw the Gyant-world enrag'd,
Nor met with Fortune, other than at Feasts,
Full warm of Blood, of Mirth, of Gossipping.
Come, come, for thou shalt thrust thy Hand as deep
Into the Purse of rich Prosperity
As Lewis himself; so, Nobles, shall you all,
That knit your Sinews to the strength of mine. Enter Pandulpho.
And even there, methinks an Angel spake,
Look where the holy Legate comes apace,
To give us Warrant from the Hand of Heav'n,
And on our Actions set the Name of Right

With holy Breath.

Pand.
Hail, noble Prince of France.
The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd
Himself to Rome, his Spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy Church,
The great Metropolis and See of Rome:
Therefore thy threatning Colours now wind up,
And tame the Savage Spirit of wild War,
That like a Lion fostered up at Hand,
It may lye gently at the foot of Peace,
And be no further harmful than in shew.

Lewis.
Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back:
I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at Controul,
Or useful Serving-man, and Instrument
To any Soveraign State throughout the World:
Your Breath first kindled the dead Coal of Wars,
Between this chastis'd Kingdom and my self,
And brought in Matter that should feed this Fire;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which enkindled it:
You taught me how to know the face of Right,
Acquainted me with Interest to this Land,
Yea thrust this Enterprize into my Heart,
And come ye now to tell me John hath made
His Peace with Rome? What is that Peace to me?
I, by the Honour of my Marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this Land for mine;
And now it is half conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his Peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's Slave? What Penny hath Rome born?
What Men provided? What Munition sent
To under-prop this Action? Is't not I
That under-go this Charge? Who else but I,
And such as to my Claim are liable,
Sweat in this Business, and maintain this War?
Have I not heard these Islanders shout out
Vive le Roy, as I have bank'd their Towns?
Have I not here the best Cards for the Game
To win this easie Match, plaid for a Crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded Set?

No, no, on my Soul it shall never be said.

Pand.
You look but on the out-side of this Work.

Lewis.
Out-side or in-side, I will not return
'Till my Attempt so much be glorified,
As to my ample Hope was promised,
Before I drew this gallant head of War,
And cull'd these fiery Spirits from the World
To out-look Conquest, and to win Renown
Even in the Jaws of Danger, and of Death: [Trumpets sounds.
What lusty Trumpet thus doth summon us? Enter Bastard.

Bast.
According to the fair-play of the World,
Let me have Audience: I am sent to speak:
My holy Lord of Milain, from the King
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him:
And as you answer, I do know the Scope
And warrant limited unto my Tongue.

Pand.
The Dauphin is too wilful, opposite,
And will not temporize with my Entreaties:
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his Arms.

Bast.
By all the Blood that ever Fury breath'd,
The Youth says well. Now hear our English King,
For thus his Royalty doth speak in me:
He is prepar'd, and Reason too he should.
This apish and unmannerly Approach,
This harness'd Mask, and unadvised Revel,
This unheard Sawciness and boyish Troops,
The King doth smile at, and is well-prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish War, these Pigmy Arms
From out the Circle of his Territories.
That Hand which had the strength, even at your Door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch,
To dive like Buckets in concealed Wells,
To crouch in Litter of your Stable Planks,
To lye like Pawns, lock'd up in Chests and Trunks,
To hug with Swine, to seek sweet safety out
In Vaults and Prisons, and to thrill and shake,
Even at the crying of your Nation's Crow,
Thinking his Voice an armed English Man;
Shall that victorious Hand be feebled here,
That in your Chambers gave you Chastisement?

No; know the gallant Monarch is in Arms,
And like an Eagle, o'er his aiery Tower,
To souse Annoiance that comes near his Nest;
And you degenerate, you ingrate Revolts,
You bloody Nero's ripping up the Womb
Of your dear Mother-England, blush for shame:
For your own Ladies, and pale-visag'd Maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after Drums:
Their Thimbles into armed Gantlets change,
Their Needles to Lances, and their gentle Hearts
To fierce and bloody Inclination.

Lewis.
There end thy Brave, and turn thy Face in Peace.
We grant thou canst out-scold us; fare thee well:
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a Babler.

Pand.
Give me leave to speak.

Bast.
No, I will speak.

Lewis.
We will attend to neither:
Strike up the Drums, and let the Tongue of War
Plead for our Interest, and our being here.

Bast.
Indeed your Drums being beaten, will cry out?
And so shall you, being beaten; do but start
An eccho with the Clamour of thy Drum,
And even at hand, a Drum is ready brac'd,
That shall reverberate all, as loud as thine.
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the Welkin's Ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd Thunder; for at hand
(Not trusting to this halting Legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need)
Is warlike John; and in his Forehead sits
A bare-rib'd Death, whose Office is this Day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

Lewis.
Strike up our Drums, to find this danger out.

Bast.
And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. [Exeunt.

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