Lew.
My lord Melun, let this &dagger2; be copy'd out,
And keep it safe for our remembrance: ^note
Return the precedent14Q0563 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, an ^note unurg'd faith,
To your proceedings; yet, believe me, prince,
I am not glad that such a sore of time
Should seek a plaster by contemn'd ^note revolt,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound
By making many: O, it grieves my soul,
That I must draw this † metal from my side
To be a widow-maker; o, 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, o my grieved friends,
That we, the sons and children of this isle,
Were born ^note to see so sad an hour as this;
Wherein we step14Q0564 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 ^note here?—O nation, that thou could'st remove!
That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself,
And grapple ^note thee unto a pagan shore;
Where these two christian armies might combine
The blood of malice in a vein ^note of league,
And not to spend ^note it so unneighbourly!

Lew.
A noble temper dost thou shew in this;
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom,
Do make ^note an earth-quake ^note of nobility.
O what a noble combat hast thou fought,
Between compulsion14Q0565 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 shower blown up by tempest of the soul,
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven
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 ^note those baby eyes
That never saw the giant world enrag'd;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts,
Full warm of14Q0566 blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
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 Pandulph, attended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake:
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven;
And on our actions set the name of right,
With holy breath.

Pan.
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 threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in shew.

Lew.
Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back;
I am too high-born to be property'd,
To be a secondary at controul,
Or useful serving-man, and instrument,
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindl'd the dead coal of wars ^note
Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself,
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 enkindl'd 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 undergo 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 roi! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match play'd for a crown;
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?
No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said.

Pan.
You look but on the outside of this work.

Lew.
Outside, or inside, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be glorify'd
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.— [Trumpet within.

What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? Enter Bastard, attended.

Bas.
According to the fair-play of the world,
Let me have audience; I am sent to speak:14Q0567—
My holy lord of Milan, 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.

Pan.
The dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

Bas.
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 ^note should:
This apish and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd ^note sauciness, and boyish troops, ^note
The king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy ^note arms,
From out ^note 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 lie, 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 this voice an armed Englishman;—
Shall that victorious hand be feebl'd here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement?

No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.—
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, 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.

Lew.
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 brabler.

Pan.
Give me leave to speak.

Bas.
No, I will speak.

Lew.
We will attend to neither:—
Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest, and our being here.

Bas.
Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;
And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start
An echo 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.

Lew.
Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.

Bas.
And thou shalt find it, dauphin, do not doubt.

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