The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Part 245

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 l.u.s.ty English, all with purpled hands, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.

Open your gates and give the victors way.

CITIZEN. 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 censured.

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.

Enter the two KINGS, with their powers, at several doors

KING JOHN. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?

Say, shall the current of our right run on?

Whose pa.s.sage, vex'd with thy impediment, Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell With course disturb'd even thy confining sh.o.r.es, Unless thou let his silver water keep A peaceful progress to the ocean.

KING PHILIP. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood In this hot trial more than we of France; Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear, That sways the earth this climate overlooks, Before we will lay down 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 scroll that tells of this war's loss With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory tow'rs When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!

O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel; The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men, In undetermin'd differences of kings.

Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?

Cry 'havoc!' kings; back to the stained field, You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits!

Then let confusion of one part confirm The other's peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death!

KING JOHN. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

KING PHILIP. Speak, citizens, for England; who's your king?

CITIZEN. The King of England, when we know the King.

KING PHILIP. Know him in us that here hold up his right.

KING JOHN. In us that are our own great deputy And bear possession of our person here, Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

CITIZEN. A greater pow'r than we denies all this; And till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates; King'd of our fears, until our fears, resolv'd, Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements As in a theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death.

Your royal presences be rul'd by me: Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town.

By east and west let France and England mount Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths, Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd down The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city.

I'd play incessantly upon these jades, Even till unfenced desolation Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.

That done, dissever your united strengths And part your mingled colours once again, Turn face to face and b.l.o.o.d.y point to point; Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth Out of one side her happy minion, To whom in favour she shall give the day, And kiss him with a glorious victory.

How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?

Smacks it not something of the policy?

KING JOHN. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it well. France, shall we knit our pow'rs And lay this Angiers even with the ground; Then after fight who shall be king of it?

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town, Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery, As we will ours, against these saucy walls; And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why then defy each other, and pell-mell Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or h.e.l.l.

KING PHILIP. Let it be so. Say, where will you a.s.sault?

KING JOHN. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom.

AUSTRIA. I from the north.

KING PHILIP. Our thunder from the south Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. [Aside] O prudent discipline! From north to south, Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth.

I'll stir them to it.-Come, away, away!

CITIZEN. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay, And I shall show you peace and fair-fac'd league; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds That here come sacrifices for the field.

Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

KING JOHN. Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear.

CITIZEN. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch, Is niece to England; look upon the years Of Lewis the Dauphin and that lovely maid.

If l.u.s.ty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?

If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?

If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch?

Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, Is the young Dauphin every way complete- If not complete of, say he is not she; And she again wants nothing, to name want, If want it be not that she is not he.

He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.

O, two such silver currents, when they join, Do glorify the banks that bound them in; And two such sh.o.r.es to two such streams made one, Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, Kings, To these two princes, if you marry them.

This union shall do more than battery can To our fast-closed gates; for at this match With swifter spleen than powder can enforce, The mouth of pa.s.sage shall we fling wide ope And give you entrance; but without this match, The sea enraged is not half so deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More free from motion-no, not Death himself In mortal fury half so peremptory As we to keep this city.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Here's a stay That shakes the rotten carca.s.s of old Death Out of his rags! Here's a large mouth, indeed, That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas; Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!

What cannoneer begot this l.u.s.ty blood?

He speaks plain cannon-fire, and smoke and bounce; He gives the bastinado with his tongue; Our ears are cudgell'd; not a word of his But buffets better than a fist of France.

Zounds! I was never so bethump'd with words Since I first call'd my brother's father dad.

ELINOR. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; Give with our niece a dowry large enough; For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie Thy now unsur'd a.s.surance to the crown That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.

I see a yielding in the looks of France; Mark how they whisper. Urge them while their souls Are capable of this ambition, Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath Of soft pet.i.tions, pity, and remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was.

CITIZEN. Why answer not the double majesties This friendly treaty of our threat'ned town?

KING PHILIP. Speak England first, that hath been forward first To speak unto this city: what say you?

KING JOHN. If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, Can in this book of beauty read 'I love,'

Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen; For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, And all that we upon this side the sea- Except this city now by us besieg'd- Find liable to our crown and dignity, Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich In t.i.tles, honours, and promotions, As she in beauty, education, blood, Holds hand with any princess of the world.

KING PHILIP. What say'st thou, boy? Look in the lady's face.

LEWIS. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find A wonder, or a wondrous miracle, The shadow of myself form'd in her eye; Which, being but the shadow of your son, Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow.

I do protest I never lov'd myself Till now infixed I beheld myself Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

[Whispers with BLANCH]

b.a.s.t.a.r.d. [Aside] Drawn in the flattering table of her eye, Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, And quarter'd in her heart-he doth espy Himself love's traitor. This is pity now, That hang'd and drawn and quarter'd there should be In such a love so vile a lout as he.

BLANCH. My uncle's will in this respect is mine.

If he see aught in you that makes him like, That anything he sees which moves his liking I can with ease translate it to my will; Or if you will, to speak more properly, I will enforce it eas'ly to my love.

Further I will not flatter you, my lord, That all I see in you is worthy love, Than this: that nothing do I see in you- Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge- That I can find should merit any hate.

KING JOHN. What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

BLANCH. That she is bound in honour still to do What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

KING JOHN. Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

LEWIS. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love; For I do love her most unfeignedly.

KING JOHN. Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces, With her to thee; and this addition more, Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.

Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

KING PHILIP. It likes us well; young princes, close your hands.

AUSTRIA. And your lips too; for I am well a.s.sur'd That I did so when I was first a.s.sur'd.

KING PHILIP. Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates, Let in that amity which you have made; For at Saint Mary's chapel presently The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd.

Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?

I know she is not; for this match made up Her presence would have interrupted much.

Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows.

LEWIS. She is sad and pa.s.sionate at your Highness' tent.

KING PHILIP. And, by my faith, this league that we have made Will give her sadness very little cure.

Brother of England, how may we content This widow lady? In her right we came; Which we, G.o.d knows, have turn'd another way, To our own vantage.

KING JOHN. We will heal up all, For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine, And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance; Some speedy messenger bid her repair To our solemnity. I trust we shall, If not fill up the measure of her will, Yet in some measure satisfy her so That we shall stop her exclamation.

Go we as well as haste will suffer us To this unlook'd-for, unprepared pomp.

Exeunt all but the b.a.s.t.a.r.d b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!

John, to stop Arthur's tide in the whole, Hath willingly departed with a part; And France, whose armour conscience buckled on, Whom zeal and charity brought to the field As G.o.d's own soldier, rounded in the ear With that same purpose-changer, that sly 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, who of itself is peised 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 same 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 woo'd me yet; Not that I have the power to clutch my hand When his fair angels would salute my palm, But for my hand, as unattempted yet, Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich.

Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail And say there is no sin but to be rich; And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary.

Since kings break faith upon commodity, Gain, be my lord, for I will wors.h.i.+p thee. Exit

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ACT III. SCENE 1.