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K. John. England for itself; You men of Angiers and my loving subjects K. Phil. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's sub

jects, 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 fpit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls : All preparations for a bloody fiege And merciless proceeding, by thefe French, Confront your cities eyes, your winking * gates ; And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones, That as a waste do girdle you about, By the compulsion 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 fight of us your lawful King, (Who painfully with much expedient march, Have brought a counter-check before your gates, To save unscratch'd your city's threat’ned cheeks) Behold, the French, amaz’d, vouchsafe a parle; And now, instead of bullets wrapt in fire, To make a llaking fever in your walls, They shoot but calm words folded up in smoak, To make a faithless error in your ears; Which trust accordingly, kind citizens; And let in us, your King, whose labour'd spirits, Fore-weary'd in this action of fwift speed, Crave harbourage within your city-walls,

K. Phil. When I have said, make answer to us both, Lo! in this right hand, whose protection Is molt divinely row'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

* Kinking, a metaphor for balf-oper.

In warlike march these greens before your town:
Being no further 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 owns it; namely, this young prince,
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, hath all offence seald up:
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against th’invulnerable clouds of heav'n;
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 rounder * of your olu-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war;
Tho' 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.

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

Git. 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-

Faulc. (Bastards, and else).
K. John. To verify our title with their lives.
K. Phil. As many, and as well-born bloods as

those-
Faulc. (Some bastards too).
K. Phil. Stand in his face to contradict his clair,

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Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, We for the worthiest hold the right from both. K. John. Then God forgive the fin 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. Phil. Amen, amen. -Mount, Chevaliers, to

arms! Faulc. Saint George that swing’d the dragon, and

e'er since
Sits on his horseback at mine hostess? door,
Teach us some fence. Sirrah, were I at home
At your den, sirrah,..with your lioness,
I'd set an ox-head to your lion's hide *,
And make a monster of you.-

[To Austria,
Aust. Peace, no more.
Faulc. O, tremble; for you hear the lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain, where we'll fet

forth In beft appointment all our regiments.

Faule. Speed then to take th’advantage of the field.

K. Phil. It shall be so; and at the other hill Command the rest to stand. God, and our right!

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. A long charge founded: then, after excursions, enter

the Herald of France with trumpets to the gates.

F. Her. 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 fons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground; And many. a widow's husband groveling lies, Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; While victory with little loss doth play Upon the dancing banners of the French; Who are at hand triumphantly display'd,

* The Archduke wore a lion's hide which had belonged to Richard Cæeur-de-lion,

To enter conquerors ; and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's King, and yours.

Enter English Herald with trumpets.
E. Her. 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 in Frenchmens' 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 purpled hands,
Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes..
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

Cit. Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold, From first to last, the onset and retire Of both your armies, whose equality By our best eyes cannot be cenfured; 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.

S CE N E V.
Enter the two Kings with their powers, at several doors.
K. John. France, haft thou yet more blood to caft

away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on ?
Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'erswell
With course disturb’d ev’n thy confining lhores;
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Phil. England, thou hast not fav'd one drop of

blood
In this hot trial, more than we of France;
Rather lost niore. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay by our just-borne arms,
We'll

put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear;
Or add a royal number to the dead ;
Gracing the scroul that tells of this war's loss,
With laughter coupled to the name of Kings.-

Faulo. Ha! Majesty, how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of Kings is set on fire !
Oh, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his phangs;
And now he feasts, mouthing 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-kindled fpirits !
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death.

K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?
K. Phil. Speak, Citizens, for England, who's your

King ?
Cit. The King of England, when we know the

King.
K. Phil. Know him in us, that here hold up his

right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here;
Lord of our prefence, Angiers, and of you.

Cit. A greater pow'r than ye denies all this ;
And till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates
Faulc. By heav'n, the scroyles of Angiers flout you,

Kings,
And stand securely on their battlements,
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point

*

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strong-barr'd gates. Kings are our fears -until our fears refoly'd Be by some certain King purg'd and depos’ut.

Faule. By heav'n, &c.

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