F. H.
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, to the same.

E. H.
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 purpl'd hands,
Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

1. C.
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. Flourish. Enter King John, and his Power, on one Side, Bastard, Elinor, Blanch, &c: On the other, King Philip, and French, Austria, and Lewis.

Joh.
France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on? ^note
Whose passage vext 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.

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 over-looks,—
Before we will lay down our just-born arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead;
Gracing the scrowl, that tells of this war's loss,
With slaughter coupl'd to the name of kings.

Bas.
Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his phangs;
And now he feasts, mouzing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.—
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry, havock, kings! back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindl'd spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace; 'till then, blows, blood, and death!

Joh.
Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

Phi.
Speak, citizens, for England; who's ^note your king?

1. C.
The king of England, when we know the king.

Phi.
Know him in us, that here hold up his right.

Joh.
In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you. ^note

1. C.
A greater power,14Q0540 than ye ^note, denies all this;
And, 'till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-bar'd gates:

Kings are our fears; ^note until our fears, resolv'd,
Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd.

Bas.
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 ^note scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences14Q0541 be rul'd by me;
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Be friends a while, 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 clamours 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 mingl'd 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?

Joh.
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?

Bas.
An if thou hast the mettle of a king,— [to Phi.
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; and, pell-mell,
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell.

Phi.
Let it be so:—Say, where will you assault?

Joh.
We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's ^note bosom.

Aus.
I from the north.

Phi.
Our thunder ^note from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

&clquo;Bas.
&clquo;O prudent discipline! From north to south;&crquo;
&clquo;Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth:&crquo;
&clquo;I'll stir them to it:&crquo;—Come, away, away!

1. C.
Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to stay,
And I shall shew you peace, and fair-fac'd league;
Win you this city without stroke, or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to dye in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field:
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

Joh.
Speak on, with favour; we are bent to hear.

1. C.
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 ^note go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love ambitious sought 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,14Q0542 o say, ^note he is not she;
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 she ^note;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
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 controuling 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,
To give you entrance: but, without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
14Q0543Lions so confident, mountains and rocks
So free from motion; no, not death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory,
As we to keep this city.

Bas.
Here's a stay,
That shakes the rotten carcass 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 begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgel'd; not a word of his,

But buffets better than a fist of France:
'Zounds, I was never so bethumpt with words,
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad.

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

1. C.
Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

Phi.
Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city;—What say you?

Joh.
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,14Q0544 and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers,
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, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand ^note with any princess of the world.

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 wond'rous miracle,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow:
I do protest, I never lov'd myself,
'Till now infixed I beheld ^note myself,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye. [courts in dumb Shew.

Bas.
Drawn in the flattering 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,
That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd there should be,
In such a love, so vile a lout as he.

Bla.
My uncle's will, [to Lew.] in this respect, is mine:
If he see ought 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 enforce 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 churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge)
That I can find should merit any hate.

Joh.
What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

Bla.
That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe ^note to say.

Joh.
Speak then, prince dauphin; can you love this lady?

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

Joh.
Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,

Poitiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
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.

Phi.
It likes us well;—Young princes, close your hands.

Aus.
And your lips too; for I am well assur'd,
That I did so, when I was first assur'd.

Phi.
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 solemniz'd.—
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?

Lew.
She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent.

Phi.
And, by my faith, this league, that we have made,
Will give her sadness very little cure.—
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.

Joh.
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 solemnity:—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. [Citizens come from the Walls; and Exeunt, to the Town, the two Kings, and their Powers, Lewis, Austria, Elinor, Blanch, &c.

Bas.
Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:
And France, (whose armour conscience buckl'd on;
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier) rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly 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-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodity,—
Commodity, the bias of the world;
The world, who of itself is peised 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, ^note
Clapt 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 woo'd me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles 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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