Lew.
Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.—
Arthur, that great fore-runner of thy blood,

Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave^{1 note}

:
And, for amends to his posterity,
At our importance hither is he come^{2 note},
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John:
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arth.
God shall forgive you Cœur-de-lion's death,
The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love: 11Q0514
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.

Lew.
A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?

Aust.
Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love;
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king: till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

Const.
O! take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength,
To make a more requital to your love.

Aust.
The peace of heaven is theirs, that lift their swords
In such a just and charitable war.

K. Phi.
Well then, to work. Our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town:—
Call for our chiefest men of discipline,
To cull the plots of best advantages.
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.

Const.
Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood.
My lord Chatillon may from England bring
That right in peace, which here we urge in war;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood,
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. 11Q0515 Enter Chatillon.

K. Phi.
A wonder, lady!—lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger, Chatillon, is arriv'd.—
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee: Chatillon, speak.

Chat.
Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms: the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I.
His marches are expedient^{3 note} to this town;
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,

An Até stirring him to blood and strife: 11Q0516
With her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd^{4 note}

,
And all th' unsettled humours of the land:
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom. [Drums heard within.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.

K. Phi.
How much unlook'd for is this expedition!

Aust.
By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence,
For courage mounteth with occasion:
Let them be welcome, then; we are prepar'd. Enter King John, Elinor, Blanch, the Bastard, Pembroke, and Forces.

K. John.
Peace be to France; if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own:
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven;
Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven.

K. Phi.
Peace be to England; if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace.
England we love; and, for that England's sake,

With burden of our armour here we sweat.
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king^{5 note},
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face:
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his:
This little abstract doth contain that large,
Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume^{6 note}.
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son: England was Geffrey's right,
And this is Geffrey's. In the name of God,
How comes it, then, that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest?

K. John.
From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles^{7 note}?

K. Phi.
From that supernal Judge, that stirs good thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy;
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.

K. John.
Alack! thou dost usurp authority.

K. Phi.
Excuse: it is to beat usurping down.

Eli.
Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France?

Const.
Let me make answer:—thy usurping son.

Eli.
Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou may'st be a queen, and check the world!

Const.
My bed was ever to thy son as true,
As thine was to thy husband, and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey,
Than thou and John, in manners being as like,
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think,
His father never was so true begot:
It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother.

Eli.
There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.

Const.
There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.

Aust.
Peace!

Bast.
Hear the crier.

Aust.
What the devil art thou?

Bast.
One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An 'a may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard.
I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right:
Sirrah, look to't; i' faith, I will, i' faith.

Blanch.
O! well did he become that lion's robe,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe.

Bast.
It lies as sightly on the back of him,
As great Alcides' shoes upon an ass.—
But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.

Aust.
What cracker is this same, that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?

K. Phi.
Lewis, determine what we shall do straight^{8 note}
.

Lew.
Women and fools, break off your conference.—
King John, this is the very sum of all:
England, and Ireland, Anjou^{9 note}, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee.
Wilt thou resign them, and lay down thy arms?

K. John.
My life as soon: I do defy thee, France.—
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand,
And out of my dear love I'll give thee more,
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win:
Submit thee, boy.

Eli.
Come to thy grandam, child.

Const.
Do, child, go to it' grandam, child:
Give grandam kingdom, and it' grandam will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig:
There's a good grandam.

Arth.
Good my mother, peace!
I would that I were low laid in my grave;
I am not worth this coil that's made for me.

Eli.
His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.

Const.
Now shame upon you, whe'r she does, or no^{10 note}!
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee:
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd
To do him justice, and revenge on you.

Eli.
Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!

Const.
Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth!
Call not me slanderer: thou, and thine, usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights,
Of this oppressed boy. This is thy eldest son's son, 11Q0517
Infortunate in nothing but in thee:
Thy sins are visited in this poor child;

The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.

K. John.
Bedlam, have done.

Const.
I have but this to say,—
That he is not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her, the plague
On this removed issue, plagu'd for her,
And with her plague her sin: his injury
Her injury the beadle to her sin,
All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her, a plague upon her^{1 note}!

Eli.
Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will, that bars the title of thy son.

Const.
Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will;
A woman's will^{2 note}


: a canker'd grandam's will!

K. Phi.
Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate.
It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim^{3 note}
To these ill-tuned repetitions.—
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak,
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls^{4 note}.

Cit.
Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls?

K. Phi.
'Tis France, for England.

K. John.
England, for itself.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,—

K. Phi.
You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.

K. John.
For our advantage; therefore, hear us first.—
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement:
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath,
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls:
All preparation for a bloody siege,
And merciless proceeding by these French,
Comfort your city's eyes 11Q0518^{5 note}, your winking gates;
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,
Who painfully, with much expedient march,
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks,
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 labour'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,

Crave harbourage 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;
Being no farther enemy to you,
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleased, then,
To pay that duty, which you truly owe,
To him that owes it^{6 note}
, namely, this young prince;
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up:
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
'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 harbour'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?

Cit.
In brief, we are the king of England's subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town^{7 note}
.

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

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,—

Bast.
Bastards, and else.

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.

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! [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.

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! [Exeunt.

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