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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:
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,
Faulc. (Bastards, and else).
1. c. circle,
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
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
Enter English Herald with trumpets.
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
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.
K. Phil. England, thou hast not fav'd one drop of
put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear;
Faulo. Ha! Majesty, how high thy glory towers,
K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?
Cit. A greater pow'r than ye denies all this ;
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.