Imatges de pÓgina

Whilft we, God's wrathful Agent, do correct
Their proud Contempt that beats his Peace to Heav'n.
K. Philip. 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 fake
With burthen of our Armour here we fweat;
This Toil of ours fhould be a Work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far,
That thou haft under-wrought its lawful King,
Cut off the Sequence of Pofterity,

Out-faced Infant State, and done a Rape
Upon the Maiden-Virtue of the Crown.
Look here upon thy Brother Geffry's Face,
These Eyes, thefe Brows, were moulded out of his;
This little Abftract doth conrain that large
Which dy'd in Geffrey; and the Hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as large a Volume.
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 thefe Temples beat,
Which owe the Crown that thou o'er-maftereft?

K. John. From whom haft thou this great Commiffion To draw my Answer from thy Articles?

K. Phil. From that fupernal Judge that ftirs good Thoughts In any Breaft of ftrong Authority,

To look into the Blots and Stains of Right,

That Judge hath made me Guardian to this Boy,
Under whofe Warrant I impeach thy Wrong,
And by whofe Help I mean to chaftife it.

K. John. Alack, thou doft ufurp Authority.
K. Philip. Excufe it is to beat ufurping down.
Eli. Who is it that thou doft call Ufurper, France?
Conft. Let me make Anfwer: Thy ufurping Son.
Eli. Out Infolent, thy Baftard fhall be King,
That thou may'st be a Queen, and check the World!
Conft. 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 Baftard! By my Soul I think
His Father never was fo true begot;
It cannot be, and if thou wert his Mother.

Eli. There's a good Mother, Boy, that blots thy Father
Conft. There's a good Grandam, Boy,
That would blot thee.

Auft. Peace.

Baft. Hear the Crier.

Auft. What the Devil art thou?

Baft. One that will play the Devil, Sir, with you,
And a may catch your Hide and you alone.
You are the Hare, of whom the Proverb goes,
Whofe Valour plucks dead Lions by the Beard,
I'll fmoak your Skin-Coat, and 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 difrobe the Lion of that Robe.

Baft. It lyes as fightly on the Back of him,
As great Alcide's Shoes upon an Afs;

But, Afs, I'll take that Burthen from your Back,
Or lay on that shall make your Shoulders crack.

Auft. What Cracker is this fame that deafs our Ears
With this abundance of fuperfluous Breath?
King Lewis, determine what we fhall do ftreight.
Lewis. Women and Fools break off your Conference.
King John, this is the very Sum of all;

England, and Ireland, Angiers, Tourain, Main,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee:

Wilt thou refign them, and lay down thy Arms?

K. John. My Life as foon. I do defie thee, France. Arthur of Britain, 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.

Conft. 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 fhames him fo, poor Boy he weeps.
Conft. Now fhame upon you where she does or no.
His Grandam's Wrong, and not his Mother's Shames,
Draws thofe Heav'n-moving Pearls from his poor Eyes,
Which Heav'n fhall take in nature of a Fee;

Ay, with thefe fad Chrystal Beads Heav'n fhall be brib'd
To do him Juftice, and Revenge on you.

Eli. Thou monftrous Slanderer of Heav'n and Earth.
Conft. Thou monftrous Injurer of Heav'n and Earth,
Call me not Slanderer; thou and thine ufurp
The Domination, Royalties and Rights

Of this oppreffed Boy; this is thy eldest Son's Son,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee;

Thy Sins are vifited in this

poor Child,
The Canon of the Law is laid on him,
Being but the fecond Generation
Removed from thy fin-conceiving Womb.
K. John. Bedlam have done.

Conft. I have but this to fay,

That he is not only plagued for her Sin,
But God hath made her Sin and her, the Plague
On this removed Iffue, plagu'd for her,
And with her Plague her Sin; his Injury
Her Injury, the Beadle to her Sin,
All punish'd in the Perfon of this Child,
And all for her; a Plague upon her.

Eli. Thou unadvised Scold, I can produce

A Will that bars the Title of thy Son.

Conft. Ay, who doubts that? a Will; a wicked Will; A Woman's Will; a canker'd Grandam's Will.

K. Philip. Peace Lady, paufe, or be more temperate; It ill befeems this Prefence to cry ay me

To these ill turned Repetitions.

Some Trumpet fummon hither to the Walls
Thefe Men of Angiers; let us hear them speak,
Whose Title they admit, Arthur's or John's

[Trumpet founds.

Enter a Citizen upon the Walls.
Citi. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the Walls?

K. Philip.

K Philip. 'Tis France for England.

K. John. England for it felf;"

You Men of Angiers, and my loving Subjects.

K. Phil. You loving Men of Angiers, Arthur's Subje&s, Our Trumpet call'd you to this gentle Parle

K. John. For our Advantage; therefore hear us firft;
Thefe Flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the Eye and Profpect of your Town,
Have hither march'd to your Endamagement.
The Cannons have their Bowels full of Wrath;
And ready mounted are they to fpit forth
Their Iron Indignation 'gainft your Walls:
All Preparation for a bloody Siege,

And merciless Proceeding, by these French,
Confront your Cities Eyes, your winking Gates;
And but for our Approach, thofe fleeping Stones,
That as a Waste do girdle you about,
By the Compulfion of their Ordinance
By this time from their fixed Beds of Lime
Had been difhabited, and wide Havock 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 counter-check before your Gates,
To fave unfcratch'd your Cities threatned Cheeks:
Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a Parle;
And now instead of Bullets wrap'd in Fire,
To make a fhaking Feaver in your Walls,
They shoot but calm Words, folded up in Smoak,
To make a faithlefs Error in your Ears;
Which truft accordingly, kind Citizens,
And let us in. Your King, whofe labour'd Spirits
Fore-weary'd in this Action of fwift Speed,

Craves Harbourage within your City Walls.

K. Philip. When I have faid, make Answer to us both. Loe in this right Hand, whofe Protection

Is moft divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, ftands 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 further Enemy to you
Than the conftraint of Hofpitable Zeal,
In the relief of this oppreffed Child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleafed then
To pay that Duty which you truly owe,
To him that owes it, namely, this young Prince;
And then our Arms, like to a muzzled Bear,
Save in Afpect, hath all Offence feal'd up:
Our Cannons Malice vainly fhall be spent
Against th' invulnerable Clouds of Heav'n;
And with a bleffed, and un-vext retire,

With unhack'd Swords, and Helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lufty Blood again,
Which here we came to fpout against your Town,
And leave your Children, Wives, and you in Peace.
But if you fondly pafs our proffer'd Offer,
'Tis not the Rounder of your old-fac'd Walls
Can hide you from our Meffengers of War;
Though all these English, and their Difcipline,
Were habour'd in their rude Circumference:
Then tell us, fhall your City call us Lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?
Or fhall we give the Signal to our Rage,
And ftalk in Blood to our Poffeffion?


Citi. 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.
Citi. 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 Witneffes,

Twice fifteen thoufand Hearts of England's Breed-
Baft. Baftards, and elfe.

K. John. To verifie our Title with their Lives.
K. Philip. As many, and as well born Bloods as thofe
Baft. Some Baftards too.

K. Philip. Stand in his Face to contradict his Claim.
Citi. Till you compound whofe Right is worthieft,
We for the worthieft hold the Right from both.


K. John.

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