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Hath willingly departed with a part.
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,
As God's own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that fly devil.
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling Commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,
“ The world, which of itself is poised well,
“ Made to run even upon even ground;
« Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
« This sway of motion, this Commodity,
“ Makes it take head from all indifferency,
• From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this fame bias, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp'd on the outward 'eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd and honourable war,
To a most base and vile concluded peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity ?
But for because he hath not wooed me yet :
Not that I have the power to clutch my band,
When his fair angels would falute my palm ;
But that my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail;
And say, there is no fin but to be rich.
And being rich, my virtue then thall be,
To say, there is no vice but beggary:
Since Kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my Lord; for I will worship thee ! [Exit.

1

ACT III.

SCENE I.

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The French King's pavilion.
Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.

One to be marry'd! gone to swear a peace !

Conft. G ?

be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not fo; thou haft mif-spoke, mis-heard;
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again,
It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis fo.
I trust I may not trust thee ; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man.
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a King's oath to the contrary.
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me;
For I am sick, and capable of fears ;
Oppress’d with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman, naturally born to fears :
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With

my vex'd fpirits I cannot take a truce ;
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head ?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine ?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds ?
Be these fad sighs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again, not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true as, I believe, you think them false,
That gave you cause to prove my saying true.

Conf. Oh, if thou teach me to believe this forrow,
Teach thou this forrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so,
As doth the fury of two deip’rate men,
Which in the very meeting tall and die.
Lewis wed Blanch ! O boy, then where art thou ?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?

Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy fight *.

Arth. I do befeech you, mother, be content.
Conft. “ If thou that bidd'st me be content, wert

grim, " Ugly, and fland'rous to thy mother's womb, “ Full of unpleasing blots, and fightless stains, Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, “ Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks ; “ I would not care; I then would be content, • For then I should not love thee: no, nor thou 56 Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. “ But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy! “ Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great. “ Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boaft, “ And with the half-blown rose.” But Fortuner oh! She is corrupted, chang'd, and, won from thee, Adulterates hourly with thine un le John; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of fovereignty, And made his Majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune, and to John : 'That strumpet Fortune, that ufurping John ! 'Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn ? Invenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave these woes alone, which I alone Am bound to underbear.

Sal. Pardon me, Madam,
I may not go without you to the Kings.

Conft. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud : [thee.
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let Kings'assemble : for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth

brook thy sight. This news hath made thee a moft ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good Lady, done, But fpake the harm that is by others dune?

Conjt. Which harm within itself so heinous is, As it makes harmful all that speak of it,

Arth, I do belecch you,

Can hold it up. Here I and sorrow fit.
Here is my throne, bid Kings«come bow to it.

[Sits down on the poor.

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Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor,

Faulconbridge, and Austria. K. Phil. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed Ever in France shall be kept festival.

[day To folemnize this day, the glorious sun Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist; Turning with fplendor of his precious eye The meagre cloddy earth to glitt'ring gold. The yearly course that brings this day about, Shall never see it but a holiday.

Conft. A wicked day, and not an holiday.--[Rising. What hath this day deserv’d? what hath it done, That it in golden letter should be set Among the high tides in the kalendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppression, perjury: Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, Left that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd. But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck; No bargains break, that are not this day made ; This day, all things begun come to ill end, Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change !

K. Phil. By heaven, Lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day. Have I not pawn' to you my majesty?

Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit Refembling majesty, which, touch'd and try'd, Proves valueless : you are forsworn, forsworn; You came in arms to spill my enemies blood, But now in arms you ftrengthen it with your's. The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war, Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppression hath made up this league. Arm, arm, ye heav'ns, against thèse perjur’d Kings.

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A widow cries, be husband to me, Heav'n !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day
Wear out the day in peace; but ere fun-set,
Set armed Discord 'twixt these perjur'd Kings.
Hear me, oh, hear me !

Auft. Lady Constance, peace.

Const. War, war, no peace ; peace is to me a war.
O Lymoges, O Austria ! thou doft shame
That bloody spoil: thou Ilave, thou wretch, thon
Thou little valiant, great in villany! [coward,
Thou ever strong upon the ftronger fide ;
Thou Fortune's champion, that doft never fight
But when her humorous Ladyship is by
To teach thee safety! thou art perjur’d too,
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thous
A ramping fool, to brag, to ftamp, and swear,
Upon my party? thou cold-blooded llave,
Haft thou not fpoke like thunder on my side?
Been sworn my foldier, bidding me depend
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy itrength?
And doft thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a lion's hide ! doff it for shame,
And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant limbs.

Auft. O that a man would speak those words to me!
Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant

limbs.
Auft. Thou dar'st not say fo, villain, for thy life.
Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on thofe recreant

limbs. Auft. * • Mithinks that Richard's pride and Rich

ard's fall • Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir.

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What was the ground of this quarrel of the bastard to Austria, is no where specified in the present play: nor is there in this place, or the scene where it is first hinted at (namely the second of act 2.), the least mention of any reason for it. But the story is, that Auftria, who kill'd King Richard Caur-de-lion, wore, as the spoil of that prince, a lion's hide which had belonged to him This circumstance renders the anger of the bastard very natural, and ought not to have been omitted. In the first sketch of this play, (which Shakespear is said to have had a hand in, jointly with William Rowley), we accordingly find this insisted upon, and I have yentured to place a few of shoff yerles hereMr Poper

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