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FOR __ COMPLETE SHAKESPEARE **** +["Small Print" V.12.08.93] + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + + + +1597 + +KING JOHN + +by William Shakespeare + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + KING JOHN + PRINCE HENRY, his son + ARTHUR, DUKE OF BRITAINE, son of Geffrey, late Duke of + Britaine, the elder brother of King John + EARL OF PEMBROKE + EARL OF ESSEX + EARL OF SALISBURY + LORD BIGOT + HUBERT DE BURGH + ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, son to Sir Robert Faulconbridge + PHILIP THE BASTARD, his half-brother + JAMES GURNEY, servant to Lady Faulconbridge + PETER OF POMFRET, a prophet + + KING PHILIP OF FRANCE + LEWIS, the Dauphin + LYMOGES, Duke of Austria + CARDINAL PANDULPH, the Pope's legate + MELUN, a French lord + CHATILLON, ambassador from France to King John + + QUEEN ELINOR, widow of King Henry II and mother to + King John + CONSTANCE, Mother to Arthur + BLANCH OF SPAIN, daughter to the King of Castile + and niece to King John + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, widow of Sir Robert Faulconbridge + + Lords, Citizens of Angiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, + Soldiers, Executioners, Messengers, Attendants + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +SCENE: +England and France + + + +ACT I. SCENE 1 + +KING JOHN's palace + +Enter KING JOHN, QUEEN ELINOR, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, SALISBURY, and +others, +with CHATILLON + + KING JOHN. Now, say, Chatillon, what would France with us? + CHATILLON. Thus, after greeting, speaks the King of France + In my behaviour to the majesty, + The borrowed majesty, of England here. + ELINOR. A strange beginning- 'borrowed majesty'! + KING JOHN. Silence, good mother; hear the embassy. + CHATILLON. Philip of France, in right and true behalf + Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, + Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim + To this fair island and the territories, + To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + Desiring thee to lay aside the sword + Which sways usurpingly these several titles, + And put the same into young Arthur's hand, + Thy nephew and right royal sovereign. + KING JOHN. What follows if we disallow of this? + CHATILLON. The proud control of fierce and bloody war, + To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. + KING JOHN. Here have we war for war, and blood for blood, + Controlment for controlment- so answer France. + CHATILLON. Then take my king's defiance from my mouth- + The farthest limit of my embassy. + KING JOHN. Bear mine to him, and so depart in peace; + Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France; + For ere thou canst report I will be there, + The thunder of my cannon shall be heard. + So hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath + And sullen presage of your own decay. + An honourable conduct let him have- + Pembroke, look to 't. Farewell, Chatillon. + Exeunt CHATILLON and +PEMBROKE + ELINOR. What now, my son! Have I not ever said + How that ambitious Constance would not cease + Till she had kindled France and all the world + Upon the right and party of her son? + This might have been prevented and made whole + With very easy arguments of love, + Which now the manage of two kingdoms must + With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. + KING JOHN. Our strong possession and our right for us! + ELINOR. Your strong possession much more than your right, + Or else it must go wrong with you and me; + So much my conscience whispers in your ear, + Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear. + + Enter a SHERIFF + + ESSEX. My liege, here is the strangest controversy + Come from the country to be judg'd by you + That e'er I heard. Shall I produce the men? + KING JOHN. Let them approach. Exit +SHERIFF + Our abbeys and our priories shall pay + This expedition's charge. + + Enter ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE and PHILIP, his bastard + brother + + What men are you? + BASTARD. Your faithful subject I, a gentleman + Born in Northamptonshire, and eldest son, + As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge- + A soldier by the honour-giving hand + Of Coeur-de-lion knighted in the field. + KING JOHN. What art thou? + ROBERT. The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge. + KING JOHN. Is that the elder, and art thou the heir? + You came not of one mother then, it seems. + BASTARD. Most certain of one mother, mighty king- + That is well known- and, as I think, one father; + But for the certain knowledge of that truth + I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother. + Of that I doubt, as all men's children may. + ELINOR. Out on thee, rude man! Thou dost shame thy mother, + And wound her honour with this diffidence. + BASTARD. I, madam? No, I have no reason for it- + That is my brother's plea, and none of mine; + The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out + At least from fair five hundred pound a year. + Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land! + KING JOHN. A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born, + Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance? + BASTARD. I know not why, except to get the land. + But once he slander'd me with bastardy; + But whe'er I be as true begot or no, + That still I lay upon my mother's head; + But that I am as well begot, my liege- + Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me!- + Compare our faces and be judge yourself. + If old Sir Robert did beget us both + And were our father, and this son like him- + O old Sir Robert, father, on my knee + I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee! + KING JOHN. Why, what a madcap hath heaven lent us here! + ELINOR. He hath a trick of Coeur-de-lion's face; + The accent of his tongue affecteth him. + Do you not read some tokens of my son + In the large composition of this man? + KING JOHN. Mine eye hath well examined his parts + And finds them perfect Richard. Sirrah, speak, + What doth move you to claim your brother's land? + BASTARD. Because he hath a half-face, like my father. + With half that face would he have all my land: + A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year! + ROBERT. My gracious liege, when that my father liv'd, + Your brother did employ my father much- + BASTARD. Well, sir, by this you cannot get my land: + Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother. + ROBERT. And once dispatch'd him in an embassy + To Germany, there with the Emperor + To treat of high affairs touching that time. + Th' advantage of his absence took the King, + And in the meantime sojourn'd at my father's; + Where how he did prevail I shame to speak- + But truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shores + Between my father and my mother lay, + As I have heard my father speak himself, + When this same lusty gentleman was got. + Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd + His lands to me, and took it on his death + That this my mother's son was none of his; + And if he were, he came into the world + Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. + Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine, + My father's land, as was my father's will. + KING JOHN. Sirrah, your brother is legitimate: + Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him, + And if she did play false, the fault was hers; + Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands + That marry wives. Tell me, how if my brother, + Who, as you say, took pains to get this son, + Had of your father claim'd this son for his? + In sooth, good friend, your father might have kept + This calf, bred from his cow, from all the world; + In sooth, he might; then, if he were my brother's, + My brother might not claim him; nor your father, + Being none of his, refuse him. This concludes: + My mother's son did get your father's heir; + Your father's heir must have your father's land. + ROBERT. Shall then my father's will be of no force + To dispossess that child which is not his? + BASTARD. Of no more force to dispossess me, sir, + Than was his will to get me, as I think. + ELINOR. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge, + And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land, + Or the reputed son of Coeur-de-lion, + Lord of thy presence and no land beside? + BASTARD. Madam, an if my brother had my shape + And I had his, Sir Robert's his, like him; + And if my legs were two such riding-rods, + My arms such eel-skins stuff'd, my face so thin + That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose + Lest men should say 'Look where three-farthings goes!' + And, to his shape, were heir to all this land- + Would I might never stir from off this place, + I would give it every foot to have this face! + I would not be Sir Nob in any case. + ELINOR. I like thee well. Wilt thou forsake thy fortune, + Bequeath thy land to him and follow me? + I am a soldier and now bound to France. + BASTARD. Brother, take you my land, I'll take my chance. + Your face hath got five hundred pound a year, + Yet sell your face for fivepence and 'tis dear. + Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. + ELINOR. Nay, I would have you go before me thither. + BASTARD. Our country manners give our betters way. + KING JOHN. What is thy name? + BASTARD. Philip, my liege, so is my name begun: + Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son. + KING JOHN. From henceforth bear his name whose form thou +bearest: + Kneel thou down Philip, but rise more great- + Arise Sir Richard and Plantagenet. + BASTARD. Brother by th' mother's side, give me your hand; + My father gave me honour, yours gave land. + Now blessed be the hour, by night or day, + When I was got, Sir Robert was away! + ELINOR. The very spirit of Plantagenet! + I am thy grandam, Richard: call me so. + BASTARD. Madam, by chance, but not by truth; what though? + Something about, a little from the right, + In at the window, or else o'er the hatch; + Who dares not stir by day must walk by night; + And have is have, however men do catch. + Near or far off, well won is still well shot; + And I am I, howe'er I was begot. + KING JOHN. Go, Faulconbridge; now hast thou thy desire: + A landless knight makes thee a landed squire. + Come, madam, and come, Richard, we must speed + For France, for France, for it is more than need. + BASTARD. Brother, adieu. Good fortune come to thee! + For thou wast got i' th' way of honesty. + Exeunt all but the +BASTARD + A foot of honour better than I was; + But many a many foot of land the worse. + Well, now can I make any Joan a lady. + 'Good den, Sir Richard!'-'God-a-mercy, fellow!' + And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter; + For new-made honour doth forget men's names: + 'Tis too respective and too sociable + For your conversion. Now your traveller, + He and his toothpick at my worship's mess- + And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd, + Why then I suck my teeth and catechize + My picked man of countries: 'My dear sir,' + Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin + 'I shall beseech you'-That is question now; + And then comes answer like an ABC book: + 'O sir,' says answer 'at your best command, + At your employment, at your service, sir!' + 'No, sir,' says question 'I, sweet sir, at yours.' + And so, ere answer knows what question would, + Saving in dialogue of compliment, + And talking of the Alps and Apennines, + The Pyrenean and the river Po- + It draws toward supper in conclusion so. + But this is worshipful society, + And fits the mounting spirit like myself; + For he is but a bastard to the time + That doth not smack of observation- + And so am I, whether I smack or no; + And not alone in habit and device, + Exterior form, outward accoutrement, + But from the inward motion to deliver + Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth; + Which, though I will not practise to deceive, + Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; + For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. + But who comes in such haste in riding-robes? + What woman-post is this? Hath she no husband + That will take pains to blow a horn before her? + + Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE, and JAMES GURNEY + + O me, 'tis my mother! How now, good lady! + What brings you here to court so hastily? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Where is that slave, thy brother? + Where is he + That holds in chase mine honour up and down? + BASTARD. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's son? + Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man? + Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend boy, + Sir Robert's son! Why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert? + He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou. + BASTARD. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave awhile? + GURNEY. Good leave, good Philip. + BASTARD. Philip-Sparrow! James, + There's toys abroad-anon I'll tell thee more. + Exit +GURNEY + Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son; + Sir Robert might have eat his part in me + Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast. + Sir Robert could do: well-marry, to confess- + Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it: + We know his handiwork. Therefore, good mother, + To whom am I beholding for these limbs? + Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, + That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? + What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave? + BASTARD. Knight, knight, good mother, Basilisco-like. + What! I am dubb'd; I have it on my shoulder. + But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son: + I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land; + Legitimation, name, and all is gone. + Then, good my mother, let me know my father- + Some proper man, I hope. Who was it, mother? + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge? + BASTARD. As faithfully as I deny the devil. + LADY FAULCONBRIDGE. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father. + By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd + To make room for him in my husband's bed. + Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! + Thou art the issue of my dear offence, + Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence. + BASTARD. Now, by this light, were I to get again, + Madam, I would not wish a better father. + Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, + And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly; + Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, + Subjected tribute to commanding love, + Against whose fury and unmatched force + The aweless lion could not wage the fight + Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand. + He that perforce robs lions of their hearts + May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother, + With all my heart I thank thee for my father! + Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well + When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell. + Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin; + And they shall say when Richard me begot, + If thou hadst said him nay, it had been sin. + Who says it was, he lies; I say 'twas not. +Exeunt + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT II. SCENE 1 + +France. Before Angiers + +Enter, on one side, AUSTRIA and forces; on the other, KING PHILIP +OF FRANCE, +LEWIS the Dauphin, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and forces + + KING PHILIP. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria. + Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood, + Richard, that robb'd the lion of his heart + And fought the holy wars in Palestine, + By this brave duke came early to his grave; + And for amends to his posterity, + At our importance hither is he come + To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; + And to rebuke the usurpation + Of thy unnatural uncle, English John. + Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither. + ARTHUR. God shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's death + The rather that you give his offspring life, + Shadowing their right under your wings of war. + I give you welcome with a powerless hand, + But with a heart full of unstained love; + Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke. + KING PHILIP. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right? + AUSTRIA. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss + As seal to this indenture of my love: + That to my home I will no more return + Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France, + Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore, + Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides + And coops from other lands her islanders- + Even till that England, hedg'd in with the main, + That water-walled bulwark, still secure + And confident from foreign purposes- + Even till that utmost corner of the west + Salute thee for her king. Till then, fair boy, + Will I not think of home, but follow arms. + CONSTANCE. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, + Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength + To make a more requital to your love! + AUSTRIA. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords + In such a just and charitable war. + KING PHILIP. Well then, to work! Our cannon shall be bent + Against the brows of this resisting town; + Call for our chiefest men of discipline, + To cull the plots of best advantages. + We'll lay before this town our royal bones, + Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood, + But we will make it subject to this boy. + CONSTANCE. Stay for an answer to your embassy, + Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood; + My Lord Chatillon may from England bring + That right in peace which here we urge in war, + And then we shall repent each drop of blood + That hot rash haste so indirectly shed. + + Enter CHATILLON + + KING PHILIP. A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish, + Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd. + What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; + We coldly pause for thee. Chatillon, speak. + CHATILLON. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege + And stir them up against a mightier task. + England, impatient of your just demands, + Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds, + Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time + To land his legions all as soon as I; + His marches are expedient to this town, + His forces strong, his soldiers confident. + With him along is come the mother-queen, + An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife; + With her the Lady Blanch of Spain; + With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd; + And all th' unsettled humours of the land- + Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries, + With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens- + Have sold their fortunes at their native homes, + Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, + To make a hazard of new fortunes here. + In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits + Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er + Did never float upon the swelling tide + To do offence and scathe in Christendom. [Drum +beats] + The interruption of their churlish drums + Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand; + To parley or to fight, therefore prepare. + KING PHILIP. How much unlook'd for is this expedition! + AUSTRIA. By how much unexpected, by so much + We must awake endeavour for defence, + For courage mounteth with occasion. + Let them be welcome then; we are prepar'd. + + Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, + PEMBROKE, and others + + KING JOHN. Peace be to France, if France in peace permit + Our just and lineal entrance to our own! + If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven, + Whiles we, God's wrathful agent, do correct + Their proud contempt that beats His peace to heaven! + KING 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 sake + With burden of our armour here we sweat. + This toil of ours should be a work of thine; + But thou from loving England art so far + That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king, + Cut off the sequence of posterity, + Outfaced infant state, and done a rape + Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. + Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face: + These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his; + This little abstract doth contain that large + Which died in Geffrey, and the hand of time + Shall draw this brief into as huge 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 these temples beat + Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest? + KING JOHN. From whom hast thou this great commission, France, + To draw my answer from thy articles? + KING PHILIP. From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts + In any breast of strong authority + To look into the blots and stains of right. + That judge hath made me guardian to this boy, + Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong, + And by whose help I mean to chastise it. + KING JOHN. Alack, thou dost usurp authority. + KING PHILIP. Excuse it is to beat usurping down. + ELINOR. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France? + CONSTANCE. Let me make answer: thy usurping son. + ELINOR. Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king, + That thou mayst be a queen and check the world! + CONSTANCE. 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 bastard! By my soul, I think + His father never was so true begot; + It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. + ELINOR. There's a good mother, boy, that blots thy father. + CONSTANCE. There's a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee. + AUSTRIA. Peace! + BASTARD. Hear the crier. + AUSTRIA. What the devil art thou? + BASTARD. One that will play the devil, sir, with you, + An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. + You are the hare of whom the proverb goes, + Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard; + I'll smoke your skin-coat an 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 disrobe the lion of that robe! + BASTARD. It lies as sightly on the back of him + As great Alcides' shows upon an ass; + But, ass, I'll take that burden from your back, + Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. + AUSTRIA. What cracker is this same that deafs our ears + With this abundance of superfluous breath? + King Philip, determine what we shall do straight. + KING PHILIP. Women and fools, break off your conference. + King John, this is the very sum of all: + England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, + In right of Arthur, do I claim of thee; + Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms? + KING JOHN. My life as soon. I do defy thee, France. + Arthur of Britaine, 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. + ELINOR. Come to thy grandam, child. + CONSTANCE. 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! + ARTHUR. 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. + ELINOR. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps. + CONSTANCE. Now shame upon you, whe'er she does or no! + His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's shames, + Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes, + Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; + Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd + To do him justice and revenge on you. + ELINOR. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth! + CONSTANCE. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth, + Call not me slanderer! Thou and thine usurp + The dominations, royalties, and rights, + Of this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest son's son, + Infortunate in nothing but in thee. + Thy sins are visited in this poor child; + The canon of the law is laid on him, + Being but the second generation + Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. + KING JOHN. Bedlam, have done. + CONSTANCE. I have but this to say- + That he is not only plagued for her sin, + But God hath made her sin and her the plague + On this removed issue, plagued for her + And with her plague; her sin his injury, + Her injury the beadle to her sin; + All punish'd in the person of this child, + And all for her-a plague upon her! + ELINOR. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce + A will that bars the title of thy son. + CONSTANCE. Ay, who doubts that? A will, a wicked will; + A woman's will; a cank'red grandam's will! + KING PHILIP. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate. + It ill beseems this presence to cry aim + To these ill-tuned repetitions. + Some trumpet summon hither to the walls + These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak + Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. + + Trumpet sounds. Enter citizens upon the walls + + CITIZEN. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls? + KING PHILIP. 'Tis France, for England. + KING JOHN. England for itself. + You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects- + KING PHILIP. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, + Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle- + KING 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 spit forth + Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls; + All preparation for a bloody siege + And merciless proceeding by these French + Confront your city's eyes, your winking gates; + And but for our approach those sleeping stones + That as a waist doth girdle you about + By the compulsion of their ordinance + By this time from their fixed beds of lime + Had been dishabited, and wide havoc 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 countercheck 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 wrapp'd in fire, + To make a shaking fever in your walls, + They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke, + To make a faithless error in your ears; + Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, + And let us in-your King, whose labour'd spirits, + Forwearied in this action of swift speed, + Craves harbourage within your city walls. + KING PHILIP. When I have said, make answer to us both. + Lo, in this right hand, whose protection + Is most divinely vow'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 + 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 owes it, namely, this young prince; + And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, + Save in aspect, hath all offence seal'd up; + Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent + Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven; + 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 roundure of your old-fac'd walls + Can hide you from our messengers of war, + Though 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? + CITIZEN. In brief: we are the King of England's subjects; + For him, and in his right, we hold this town. + KING JOHN. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in. + CITIZEN. 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. + KING 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- + BASTARD. Bastards and else. + KING JOHN. To verify our title with their lives. + KING PHILIP. As many and as well-born bloods as those- + BASTARD. Some bastards too. + KING PHILIP. Stand in his face to contradict his claim. + CITIZEN. Till you compound whose right is worthiest, + We for the worthiest hold the right from both. + KING JOHN. Then God forgive the sin 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! + KING PHILIP. Amen, Amen! Mount, chevaliers; to arms! + BASTARD. Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since + Sits on's horse back at mine hostess' door, + Teach us some fence! [To AUSTRIA] Sirrah, were I at home, + At your den, sirrah, with your lioness, + I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide, + And make a monster of you. + AUSTRIA. Peace! no more. + BASTARD. O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar! + KING JOHN. Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth + In best appointment all our regiments. + BASTARD. Speed then to take advantage of the field. + KING PHILIP. It shall be so; and at the other hill + Command the rest to stand. God and our right! +Exeunt + + Here, after excursions, enter the HERALD OF FRANCE, + with trumpets, to the gates + + FRENCH HERALD. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates + And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in, + Who by the hand of France this day hath made + Much work for tears in many an English mother, + Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground; + Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, + Coldly embracing the discoloured earth; + And victory with little loss doth play + Upon the dancing banners of the French, + Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed, + To enter conquerors, and to proclaim + Arthur of Britaine England's King and yours. + + Enter ENGLISH HERALD, with trumpet + + ENGLISH HERALD. 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 with Frenchmen's 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. + 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 passage, vex'd with thy impediment, + Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell + With course disturb'd even thy confining shores, + 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. + BASTARD. 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. + BASTARD. 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 bloody 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? + BASTARD. 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 hell. + KING PHILIP. Let it be so. Say, where will you assault? + 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. + BASTARD. [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 lusty 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 shores 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 passage 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. + BASTARD. Here's a stay + That shakes the rotten carcass 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 lusty 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 assurance 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 petitions, 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 titles, 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] + BASTARD. [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 assur'd + That I did so when I was first assur'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 passionate 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, God 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 +BASTARD + BASTARD. 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 God'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 worship thee. +Exit + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT III. SCENE 1. + +France. The FRENCH KING'S camp + +Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY + + CONSTANCE. Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace! + False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends! + Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces? + It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; + Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again. + It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so; + 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 spirits 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 sad signs confirmers of thy words? + Then speak again-not all thy former tale, + But this one word, whether thy tale be true. + SALISBURY. As true as I believe you think them false + That give you cause to prove my saying true. + CONSTANCE. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, + Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die; + And let belief and life encounter so + As doth the fury of two desperate men + Which in the very meeting fall and die! + Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou? + France friend with England; what becomes of me? + Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight; + This news hath made thee a most ugly man. + SALISBURY. What other harm have I, good lady, done + But spoke the harm that is by others done? + CONSTANCE. Which harm within itself so heinous is + As it makes harmful all that speak of it. + ARTHUR. I do beseech you, madam, be content. + CONSTANCE. If thou that bid'st me be content wert grim, + Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, + Full of unpleasing blots and sightless 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 + 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 mayst with lilies boast, + And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O! + She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee; + Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John, + And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France + To tread down fair respect of sovereignty, + And made his majesty the bawd to theirs. + France is a bawd to Fortune and King John- + That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John! + Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? + Envenom him with words, or get thee gone + And leave those woes alone which I alone + Am bound to under-bear. + SALISBURY. Pardon me, madam, + I may not go without you to the kings. + CONSTANCE. Thou mayst, thou shalt; I will not go with thee; + I will instruct my sorrows to be proud, + For grief is proud, and makes his owner stoop. + 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 + Can hold it up. [Seats herself on the +ground] + Here I and sorrows sit; + Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. + + Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, + ELINOR, the BASTARD, AUSTRIA, and attendants + + KING PHILIP. 'Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed day + Ever in France shall be kept festival. + To solemnize this day the glorious sun + Stays in his course and plays the alchemist, + Turning with splendour of his precious eye + The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold. + The yearly course that brings this day about + Shall never see it but a holiday. + CONSTANCE. [Rising] A wicked day, and not a holy day! + What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done + That it in golden letters should be set + Among the high tides in the calendar? + 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, + Lest 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! + KING PHILIP. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause + To curse the fair proceedings of this day. + Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty? + CONSTANCE. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit + Resembling majesty, which, being touch'd and tried, + Proves valueless; you are forsworn, forsworn; + You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood, + But now in arms you strengthen it with yours. + 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, you heavens, against these perjur'd kings! + A widow cries: Be husband to me, heavens! + Let not the hours of this ungodly day + Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset, + Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings! + Hear me, O, hear me! + AUSTRIA. Lady Constance, peace! + CONSTANCE. War! war! no peace! Peace is to me a war. + O Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame + That bloody spoil. Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! + Thou little valiant, great in villainy! + Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! + Thou Fortune's champion that dost 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 thou, + A ramping fool, to brag and stamp and swear + Upon my party! Thou cold-blooded slave, + Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side, + Been sworn my soldier, bidding me depend + Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength, + And dost thou now fall over to my foes? + Thou wear a lion's hide! Doff it for shame, + And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. O that a man should speak those words to me! + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. + KING JOHN. We like not this: thou dost forget thyself. + + Enter PANDULPH + + KING PHILIP. Here comes the holy legate of the Pope. + PANDULPH. Hail, you anointed deputies of heaven! + To thee, King John, my holy errand is. + I Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal, + And from Pope Innocent the legate here, + Do in his name religiously demand + Why thou against the Church, our holy mother, + So wilfully dost spurn; and force perforce + Keep Stephen Langton, chosen Archbishop + Of Canterbury, from that holy see? + This, in our foresaid holy father's name, + Pope Innocent, I do demand of thee. + KING JOHN. What earthly name to interrogatories + Can task the free breath of a sacred king? + Thou canst not, Cardinal, devise a name + So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, + To charge me to an answer, as the Pope. + Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England + Add thus much more, that no Italian priest + Shall tithe or toll in our dominions; + But as we under heaven are supreme head, + So, under Him that great supremacy, + Where we do reign we will alone uphold, + Without th' assistance of a mortal hand. + So tell the Pope, all reverence set apart + To him and his usurp'd authority. + KING PHILIP. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this. + KING JOHN. Though you and all the kings of Christendom + Are led so grossly by this meddling priest, + Dreading the curse that money may buy out, + And by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust, + Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, + Who in that sale sells pardon from himself- + Though you and all the rest, so grossly led, + This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish; + Yet I alone, alone do me oppose + Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes. + PANDULPH. Then by the lawful power that I have + Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate; + And blessed shall he be that doth revolt + From his allegiance to an heretic; + And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, + Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint, + That takes away by any secret course + Thy hateful life. + CONSTANCE. O, lawful let it be + That I have room with Rome to curse awhile! + Good father Cardinal, cry thou 'amen' + To my keen curses; for without my wrong + There is no tongue hath power to curse him right. + PANDULPH. There's law and warrant, lady, for my curse. + CONSTANCE. And for mine too; when law can do no right, + Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong; + Law cannot give my child his kingdom here, + For he that holds his kingdom holds the law; + Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, + How can the law forbid my tongue to curse? + PANDULPH. Philip of France, on peril of a curse, + Let go the hand of that arch-heretic, + And raise the power of France upon his head, + Unless he do submit himself to Rome. + ELINOR. Look'st thou pale, France? Do not let go thy hand. + CONSTANCE. Look to that, devil, lest that France repent + And by disjoining hands hell lose a soul. + AUSTRIA. King Philip, listen to the Cardinal. + BASTARD. And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs. + AUSTRIA. Well, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs, + Because- + BASTARD. Your breeches best may carry them. + KING JOHN. Philip, what say'st thou to the Cardinal? + CONSTANCE. What should he say, but as the Cardinal? + LEWIS. Bethink you, father; for the difference + Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome + Or the light loss of England for a friend. + Forgo the easier. + BLANCH. That's the curse of Rome. + CONSTANCE. O Lewis, stand fast! The devil tempts thee here + In likeness of a new untrimmed bride. + BLANCH. The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith, + But from her need. + CONSTANCE. O, if thou grant my need, + Which only lives but by the death of faith, + That need must needs infer this principle- + That faith would live again by death of need. + O then, tread down my need, and faith mounts up: + Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down! + KING JOHN. The King is mov'd, and answers not to this. + CONSTANCE. O be remov'd from him, and answer well! + AUSTRIA. Do so, King Philip; hang no more in doubt. + BASTARD. Hang nothing but a calf's-skin, most sweet lout. + KING PHILIP. I am perplex'd and know not what to say. + PANDULPH. What canst thou say but will perplex thee more, + If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd? + KING PHILIP. Good reverend father, make my person yours, + And tell me how you would bestow yourself. + This royal hand and mine are newly knit, + And the conjunction of our inward souls + Married in league, coupled and link'd together + With all religious strength of sacred vows; + The latest breath that gave the sound of words + Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love, + Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; + And even before this truce, but new before, + No longer than we well could wash our hands, + To clap this royal bargain up of peace, + Heaven knows, they were besmear'd and overstain'd + With slaughter's pencil, where revenge did paint + The fearful difference of incensed kings. + And shall these hands, so lately purg'd of blood, + So newly join'd in love, so strong in both, + Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet? + Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with heaven, + Make such unconstant children of ourselves, + As now again to snatch our palm from palm, + Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bed + Of smiling peace to march a bloody host, + And make a riot on the gentle brow + Of true sincerity? O, holy sir, + My reverend father, let it not be so! + Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impose, + Some gentle order; and then we shall be blest + To do your pleasure, and continue friends. + PANDULPH. All form is formless, order orderless, + Save what is opposite to England's love. + Therefore, to arms! be champion of our church, + Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse- + A mother's curse-on her revolting son. + France, thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue, + A chafed lion by the mortal paw, + A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, + Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold. + KING PHILIP. I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith. + PANDULPH. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith; + And like a civil war set'st oath to oath. + Thy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow + First made to heaven, first be to heaven perform'd, + That is, to be the champion of our Church. + What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself + And may not be performed by thyself, + For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss + Is not amiss when it is truly done; + And being not done, where doing tends to ill, + The truth is then most done not doing it; + The better act of purposes mistook + Is to mistake again; though indirect, + Yet indirection thereby grows direct, + And falsehood cures, as fire cools fire + Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd. + It is religion that doth make vows kept; + But thou hast sworn against religion + By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, + And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth + Against an oath; the truth thou art unsure + To swear swears only not to be forsworn; + Else what a mockery should it be to swear! + But thou dost swear only to be forsworn; + And most forsworn to keep what thou dost swear. + Therefore thy later vows against thy first + Is in thyself rebellion to thyself; + And better conquest never canst thou make + Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts + Against these giddy loose suggestions; + Upon which better part our pray'rs come in, + If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know + The peril of our curses fight on thee + So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off, + But in despair die under the black weight. + AUSTRIA. Rebellion, flat rebellion! + BASTARD. Will't not be? + Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine? + LEWIS. Father, to arms! + BLANCH. Upon thy wedding-day? + Against the blood that thou hast married? + What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? + Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums, + Clamours of hell, be measures to our pomp? + O husband, hear me! ay, alack, how new + Is 'husband' in my mouth! even for that name, + Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce, + Upon my knee I beg, go not to arms + Against mine uncle. + CONSTANCE. O, upon my knee, + Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee, + Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom + Forethought by heaven! + BLANCH. Now shall I see thy love. What motive may + Be stronger with thee than the name of wife? + CONSTANCE. That which upholdeth him that thee upholds, + His honour. O, thine honour, Lewis, thine honour! + LEWIS. I muse your Majesty doth seem so cold, + When such profound respects do pull you on. + PANDULPH. I will denounce a curse upon his head. + KING PHILIP. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall from +thee. + CONSTANCE. O fair return of banish'd majesty! + ELINOR. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! + KING JOHN. France, thou shalt rue this hour within this hour. + BASTARD. Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time, + Is it as he will? Well then, France shall rue. + BLANCH. The sun's o'ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu! + Which is the side that I must go withal? + I am with both: each army hath a hand; + And in their rage, I having hold of both, + They whirl asunder and dismember me. + Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; + Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose; + Father, I may not wish the fortune thine; + Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive. + Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose: + Assured loss before the match be play'd. + LEWIS. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies. + BLANCH. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies. + KING JOHN. Cousin, go draw our puissance together. + Exit +BASTARD + France, I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath, + A rage whose heat hath this condition + That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, + The blood, and dearest-valu'd blood, of France. + KING PHILIP. Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn + To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire. + Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. + KING JOHN. No more than he that threats. To arms let's hie! + Exeunt +severally + + + + +SCENE 2. + +France. Plains near Angiers + +Alarums, excursions. Enter the BASTARD with AUSTRIA'S head + + BASTARD. Now, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot; + Some airy devil hovers in the sky + And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie there, + While Philip breathes. + + Enter KING JOHN, ARTHUR, and HUBERT + + KING JOHN. Hubert, keep this boy. Philip, make up: + My mother is assailed in our tent, + And ta'en, I fear. + BASTARD. My lord, I rescued her; + Her Highness is in safety, fear you not; + But on, my liege, for very little pains + Will bring this labour to an happy end. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +France. Plains near Angiers + +Alarums, excursions, retreat. Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, ARTHUR, +the BASTARD, HUBERT, and LORDS + + KING JOHN. [To ELINOR] So shall it be; your Grace shall stay + behind, + So strongly guarded. [To ARTHUR] Cousin, look not sad; + Thy grandam loves thee, and thy uncle will + As dear be to thee as thy father was. + ARTHUR. O, this will make my mother die with grief! + KING JOHN. [To the BASTARD] Cousin, away for England! haste + before, + And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags + Of hoarding abbots; imprisoned angels + Set at liberty; the fat ribs of peace + Must by the hungry now be fed upon. + Use our commission in his utmost force. + BASTARD. Bell, book, and candle, shall not drive me back, + When gold and silver becks me to come on. + I leave your Highness. Grandam, I will pray, + If ever I remember to be holy, + For your fair safety. So, I kiss your hand. + ELINOR. Farewell, gentle cousin. + KING JOHN. Coz, farewell. + Exit +BASTARD + ELINOR. Come hither, little kinsman; hark, a word. + KING JOHN. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, + We owe thee much! Within this wall of flesh + There is a soul counts thee her creditor, + And with advantage means to pay thy love; + And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath + Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished. + Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say- + But I will fit it with some better time. + By heaven, Hubert, I am almost asham'd + To say what good respect I have of thee. + HUBERT. I am much bounden to your Majesty. + KING JOHN. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, + But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so slow, + Yet it shall come for me to do thee good. + I had a thing to say-but let it go: + The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, + Attended with the pleasures of the world, + Is all too wanton and too full of gawds + To give me audience. If the midnight bell + Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth + Sound on into the drowsy race of night; + If this same were a churchyard where we stand, + And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; + Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, + Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick, + Which else runs tickling up and down the veins, + Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes + And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, + A passion hateful to my purposes; + Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, + Hear me without thine ears, and make reply + Without a tongue, using conceit alone, + Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words- + Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, + I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts. + But, ah, I will not! Yet I love thee well; + And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well. + HUBERT. So well that what you bid me undertake, + Though that my death were adjunct to my act, + By heaven, I would do it. + KING JOHN. Do not I know thou wouldst? + Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye + On yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend, + He is a very serpent in my way; + And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread, + He lies before me. Dost thou understand me? + Thou art his keeper. + HUBERT. And I'll keep him so + That he shall not offend your Majesty. + KING JOHN. Death. + HUBERT. My lord? + KING JOHN. A grave. + HUBERT. He shall not live. + KING JOHN. Enough! + I could be merry now. Hubert, I love thee. + Well, I'll not say what I intend for thee. + Remember. Madam, fare you well; + I'll send those powers o'er to your Majesty. + ELINOR. My blessing go with thee! + KING JOHN. [To ARTHUR] For England, cousin, go; + Hubert shall be your man, attend on you + With all true duty. On toward Calais, ho! +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +France. The FRENCH KING's camp + +Enter KING PHILIP, LEWIS, PANDULPH, and attendants + + KING PHILIP. So by a roaring tempest on the flood + A whole armado of convicted sail + Is scattered and disjoin'd from fellowship. + PANDULPH. Courage and comfort! All shall yet go well. + KING PHILIP. What can go well, when we have run so ill. + Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? + Arthur ta'en prisoner? Divers dear friends slain? + And bloody England into England gone, + O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? + LEWIS. he hath won, that hath he fortified; + So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd, + Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, + Doth want example; who hath read or heard + Of any kindred action like to this? + KING PHILIP. Well could I bear that England had this praise, + So we could find some pattern of our shame. + + Enter CONSTANCE + + Look who comes here! a grave unto a soul; + Holding th' eternal spirit, against her will, + In the vile prison of afflicted breath. + I prithee, lady, go away with me. + CONSTANCE. Lo now! now see the issue of your peace! + KING PHILIP. Patience, good lady! Comfort, gentle Constance! + CONSTANCE. No, I defy all counsel, all redress, + But that which ends all counsel, true redress- + Death, death; O amiable lovely death! + Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! + Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, + Thou hate and terror to prosperity, + And I will kiss thy detestable bones, + And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows, + And ring these fingers with thy household worms, + And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, + And be a carrion monster like thyself. + Come, grin on me, and I will think thou smil'st, + And buss thee as thy wife. Misery's love, + O, come to me! + KING PHILIP. O fair affliction, peace! + CONSTANCE. No, no, I will not, having breath to cry. + O that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! + Then with a passion would I shake the world, + And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy + Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice, + Which scorns a modern invocation. + PANDULPH. Lady, you utter madness and not sorrow. + CONSTANCE. Thou art not holy to belie me so. + I am not mad: this hair I tear is mine; + My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; + Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost. + I am not mad-I would to heaven I were! + For then 'tis like I should forget myself. + O, if I could, what grief should I forget! + Preach some philosophy to make me mad, + And thou shalt be canoniz'd, Cardinal; + For, being not mad, but sensible of grief, + My reasonable part produces reason + How I may be deliver'd of these woes, + And teaches me to kill or hang myself. + If I were mad I should forget my son, + Or madly think a babe of clouts were he. + I am not mad; too well, too well I feel + The different plague of each calamity. + KING PHILIP. Bind up those tresses. O, what love I note + In the fair multitude of those her hairs! + Where but by a chance a silver drop hath fall'n, + Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends + Do glue themselves in sociable grief, + Like true, inseparable, faithful loves, + Sticking together in calamity. + CONSTANCE. To England, if you will. + KING PHILIP. Bind up your hairs. + CONSTANCE. Yes, that I will; and wherefore will I do it? + I tore them from their bonds, and cried aloud + 'O that these hands could so redeem my son, + As they have given these hairs their liberty!' + But now I envy at their liberty, + And will again commit them to their bonds, + Because my poor child is a prisoner. + And, father Cardinal, I have heard you say + That we shall see and know our friends in heaven; + If that be true, I shall see my boy again; + For since the birth of Cain, the first male child, + To him that did but yesterday suspire, + There was not such a gracious creature born. + But now will canker sorrow eat my bud + And chase the native beauty from his cheek, + And he will look as hollow as a ghost, + As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; + And so he'll die; and, rising so again, + When I shall meet him in the court of heaven + I shall not know him. Therefore never, never + Must I behold my pretty Arthur more. + PANDULPH. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. + CONSTANCE. He talks to me that never had a son. + KING PHILIP. You are as fond of grief as of your child. + CONSTANCE. Grief fills the room up of my absent child, + Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, + Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, + Remembers me of all his gracious parts, + Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; + Then have I reason to be fond of grief. + Fare you well; had you such a loss as I, + I could give better comfort than you do. + I will not keep this form upon my head, + [Tearing her +hair] + When there is such disorder in my wit. + O Lord! my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! + My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world! + My widow-comfort, and my sorrows' cure! +Exit + KING PHILIP. I fear some outrage, and I'll follow her. +Exit + LEWIS. There's nothing in this world can make me joy. + Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale + Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man; + And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, + That it yields nought but shame and bitterness. + PANDULPH. Before the curing of a strong disease, + Even in the instant of repair and health, + The fit is strongest; evils that take leave + On their departure most of all show evil; + What have you lost by losing of this day? + LEWIS. All days of glory, joy, and happiness. + PANDULPH. If you had won it, certainly you had. + No, no; when Fortune means to men most good, + She looks upon them with a threat'ning eye. + 'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost + In this which he accounts so clearly won. + Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner? + LEWIS. As heartily as he is glad he hath him. + PANDULPH. Your mind is all as youthful as your blood. + Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit; + For even the breath of what I mean to speak + Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub, + Out of the path which shall directly lead + Thy foot to England's throne. And therefore mark: + John hath seiz'd Arthur; and it cannot be + That, whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins, + The misplac'd John should entertain an hour, + One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest. + A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand + Must be boisterously maintain'd as gain'd, + And he that stands upon a slipp'ry place + Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up; + That John may stand then, Arthur needs must fall; + So be it, for it cannot be but so. + LEWIS. But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall? + PANDULPH. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, + May then make all the claim that Arthur did. + LEWIS. And lose it, life and all, as Arthur did. + PANDULPH. How green you are and fresh in this old world! + John lays you plots; the times conspire with you; + For he that steeps his safety in true blood + Shall find but bloody safety and untrue. + This act, so evilly borne, shall cool the hearts + Of all his people and freeze up their zeal, + That none so small advantage shall step forth + To check his reign but they will cherish it; + No natural exhalation in the sky, + No scope of nature, no distemper'd day, + No common wind, no customed event, + But they will pluck away his natural cause + And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, + Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven, + Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. + LEWIS. May be he will not touch young Arthur's life, + But hold himself safe in his prisonment. + PANDULPH. O, Sir, when he shall hear of your approach, + If that young Arthur be not gone already, + Even at that news he dies; and then the hearts + Of all his people shall revolt from him, + And kiss the lips of unacquainted change, + And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath + Out of the bloody fingers' ends of john. + Methinks I see this hurly all on foot; + And, O, what better matter breeds for you + Than I have nam'd! The bastard Faulconbridge + Is now in England ransacking the Church, + Offending charity; if but a dozen French + Were there in arms, they would be as a can + To train ten thousand English to their side; + Or as a little snow, tumbled about, + Anon becomes a mountain. O noble Dauphin, + Go with me to the King. 'Tis wonderful + What may be wrought out of their discontent, + Now that their souls are topful of offence. + For England go; I will whet on the King. + LEWIS. Strong reasons makes strong actions. Let us go; + If you say ay, the King will not say no. +Exeunt + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT IV. SCENE 1. + +England. A castle + +Enter HUBERT and EXECUTIONERS + + HUBERT. Heat me these irons hot; and look thou stand + Within the arras. When I strike my foot + Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth + And bind the boy which you shall find with me + Fast to the chair. Be heedful; hence, and watch. + EXECUTIONER. I hope your warrant will bear out the deed. + HUBERT. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you. Look to't. + Exeunt +EXECUTIONERS + Young lad, come forth; I have to say with you. + + Enter ARTHUR + + ARTHUR. Good morrow, Hubert. + HUBERT. Good morrow, little Prince. + ARTHUR. As little prince, having so great a title + To be more prince, as may be. You are sad. + HUBERT. Indeed I have been merrier. + ARTHUR. Mercy on me! + Methinks no body should be sad but I; + Yet, I remember, when I was in France, + Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, + Only for wantonness. By my christendom, + So I were out of prison and kept sheep, + I should be as merry as the day is long; + And so I would be here but that I doubt + My uncle practises more harm to me; + He is afraid of me, and I of him. + Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? + No, indeed, is't not; and I would to heaven + I were your son, so you would love me, Hubert. + HUBERT. [Aside] If I talk to him, with his innocent prate + He will awake my mercy, which lies dead; + Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch. + ARTHUR. Are you sick, Hubert? You look pale to-day; + In sooth, I would you were a little sick, + That I might sit all night and watch with you. + I warrant I love you more than you do me. + HUBERT. [Aside] His words do take possession of my bosom.- + Read here, young Arthur. [Showing a +paper] + [Aside] How now, foolish rheum! + Turning dispiteous torture out of door! + I must be brief, lest resolution drop + Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears.- + Can you not read it? Is it not fair writ? + ARTHUR. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect. + Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes? + HUBERT. Young boy, I must. + ARTHUR. And will you? + HUBERT. And I will. + ARTHUR. Have you the heart? When your head did but ache, + I knit my handkerchief about your brows- + The best I had, a princess wrought it me- + And I did never ask it you again; + And with my hand at midnight held your head; + And, like the watchful minutes to the hour, + Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time, + Saying 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?' + Or 'What good love may I perform for you?' + Many a poor man's son would have lyen still, + And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; + But you at your sick service had a prince. + Nay, you may think my love was crafty love, + And call it cunning. Do, an if you will. + If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, + Why, then you must. Will you put out mine eyes, + These eyes that never did nor never shall + So much as frown on you? + HUBERT. I have sworn to do it; + And with hot irons must I burn them out. + ARTHUR. Ah, none but in this iron age would do it! + The iron of itself, though heat red-hot, + Approaching near these eyes would drink my tears, + And quench his fiery indignation + Even in the matter of mine innocence; + Nay, after that, consume away in rust + But for containing fire to harm mine eye. + Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron? + An if an angel should have come to me + And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, + I would not have believ'd him-no tongue but Hubert's. + HUBERT. [Stamps] Come forth. + + Re-enter EXECUTIONERS, With cord, irons, etc. + + Do as I bid you do. + ARTHUR. O, save me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are out + Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. + HUBERT. Give me the iron, I say, and bind him here. + ARTHUR. Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? + I will not struggle, I will stand stone-still. + For heaven sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! + Nay, hear me, Hubert! Drive these men away, + And I will sit as quiet as a lamb; + I will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word, + Nor look upon the iron angrily; + Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you, + Whatever torment you do put me to. + HUBERT. Go, stand within; let me alone with him. + EXECUTIONER. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed. + Exeunt +EXECUTIONERS + ARTHUR. Alas, I then have chid away my friend! + He hath a stern look but a gentle heart. + Let him come back, that his compassion may + Give life to yours. + HUBERT. Come, boy, prepare yourself. + ARTHUR. Is there no remedy? + HUBERT. None, but to lose your eyes. + ARTHUR. O heaven, that there were but a mote in yours, + A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair, + Any annoyance in that precious sense! + Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there, + Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. + HUBERT. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue. + ARTHUR. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues + Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes. + Let me not hold my tongue, let me not, Hubert; + Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue, + So I may keep mine eyes. O, spare mine eyes, + Though to no use but still to look on you! + Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold + And would not harm me. + HUBERT. I can heat it, boy. + ARTHUR. No, in good sooth; the fire is dead with grief, + Being create for comfort, to be us'd + In undeserved extremes. See else yourself: + There is no malice in this burning coal; + The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out, + And strew'd repentant ashes on his head. + HUBERT. But with my breath I can revive it, boy. + ARTHUR. An if you do, you will but make it blush + And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert. + Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes, + And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight, + Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on. + All things that you should use to do me wrong + Deny their office; only you do lack + That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends, + Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses. + HUBERT. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eye + For all the treasure that thine uncle owes. + Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy, + With this same very iron to burn them out. + ARTHUR. O, now you look like Hubert! All this while + You were disguis'd. + HUBERT. Peace; no more. Adieu. + Your uncle must not know but you are dead: + I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports; + And, pretty child, sleep doubtless and secure + That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, + Will not offend thee. + ARTHUR. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert. + HUBERT. Silence; no more. Go closely in with me. + Much danger do I undergo for thee. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. + +England. KING JOHN'S palace + +Enter KING JOHN, PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and other LORDS + + KING JOHN. Here once again we sit, once again crown'd, + And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. + PEMBROKE. This once again, but that your Highness pleas'd, + Was once superfluous: you were crown'd before, + And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off, + The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt; + Fresh expectation troubled not the land + With any long'd-for change or better state. + SALISBURY. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp, + To guard a title that was rich before, + To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, + To throw a perfume on the violet, + To smooth the ice, or add another hue + Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light + To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, + Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. + PEMBROKE. But that your royal pleasure must be done, + This act is as an ancient tale new told + And, in the last repeating, troublesome, + Being urged at a time unseasonable. + SALISBURY. In this the antique and well-noted face + Of plain old form is much disfigured; + And like a shifted wind unto a sail + It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, + Startles and frights consideration, + Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, + For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. + PEMBROKE. When workmen strive to do better than well, + They do confound their skill in covetousness; + And oftentimes excusing of a fault + Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse, + As patches set upon a little breach + Discredit more in hiding of the fault + Than did the fault before it was so patch'd. + SALISBURY. To this effect, before you were new-crown'd, + We breath'd our counsel; but it pleas'd your Highness + To overbear it; and we are all well pleas'd, + Since all and every part of what we would + Doth make a stand at what your Highness will. + KING JOHN. Some reasons of this double coronation + I have possess'd you with, and think them strong; + And more, more strong, when lesser is my fear, + I shall indue you with. Meantime but ask + What you would have reform'd that is not well, + And well shall you perceive how willingly + I will both hear and grant you your requests. + PEMBROKE. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these, + To sound the purposes of all their hearts, + Both for myself and them- but, chief of all, + Your safety, for the which myself and them + Bend their best studies, heartily request + Th' enfranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint + Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent + To break into this dangerous argument: + If what in rest you have in right you hold, + Why then your fears-which, as they say, attend + The steps of wrong-should move you to mew up + Your tender kinsman, and to choke his days + With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth + The rich advantage of good exercise? + That the time's enemies may not have this + To grace occasions, let it be our suit + That you have bid us ask his liberty; + Which for our goods we do no further ask + Than whereupon our weal, on you depending, + Counts it your weal he have his liberty. + KING JOHN. Let it be so. I do commit his youth + To your direction. + + Enter HUBERT + + [Aside] Hubert, what news with you? + PEMBROKE. This is the man should do the bloody deed: + He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine; + The image of a wicked heinous fault + Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his + Doth show the mood of a much troubled breast, + And I do fearfully believe 'tis done + What we so fear'd he had a charge to do. + SALISBURY. The colour of the King doth come and go + Between his purpose and his conscience, + Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set. + His passion is so ripe it needs must break. + PEMBROKE. And when it breaks, I fear will issue thence + The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. + KING JOHN. We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. + Good lords, although my will to give is living, + The suit which you demand is gone and dead: + He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night. + SALISBURY. Indeed, we fear'd his sickness was past cure. + PEMBROKE. Indeed, we heard how near his death he was, + Before the child himself felt he was sick. + This must be answer'd either here or hence. + KING JOHN. Why do you bend such solemn brows on me? + Think you I bear the shears of destiny? + Have I commandment on the pulse of life? + SALISBURY. It is apparent foul-play; and 'tis shame + That greatness should so grossly offer it. + So thrive it in your game! and so, farewell. + PEMBROKE. Stay yet, Lord Salisbury, I'll go with thee + And find th' inheritance of this poor child, + His little kingdom of a forced grave. + That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle + Three foot of it doth hold-bad world the while! + This must not be thus borne: this will break out + To all our sorrows, and ere long I doubt. Exeunt +LORDS + KING JOHN. They burn in indignation. I repent. + There is no sure foundation set on blood, + No certain life achiev'd by others' death. + + Enter a MESSENGER + + A fearful eye thou hast; where is that blood + That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? + So foul a sky clears not without a storm. + Pour down thy weather-how goes all in France? + MESSENGER. From France to England. Never such a pow'r + For any foreign preparation + Was levied in the body of a land. + The copy of your speed is learn'd by them, + For when you should be told they do prepare, + The tidings comes that they are all arriv'd. + KING JOHN. O, where hath our intelligence been drunk? + Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's care, + That such an army could be drawn in France, + And she not hear of it? + MESSENGER. My liege, her ear + Is stopp'd with dust: the first of April died + Your noble mother; and as I hear, my lord, + The Lady Constance in a frenzy died + Three days before; but this from rumour's tongue + I idly heard-if true or false I know not. + KING JOHN. Withhold thy speed, dreadful occasion! + O, make a league with me, till I have pleas'd + My discontented peers! What! mother dead! + How wildly then walks my estate in France! + Under whose conduct came those pow'rs of France + That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here? + MESSENGER. Under the Dauphin. + KING JOHN. Thou hast made me giddy + With these in tidings. + + Enter the BASTARD and PETER OF POMFRET + + Now! What says the world + To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff + My head with more ill news, for it is full. + BASTARD. But if you be afear'd to hear the worst, + Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. + KING JOHN. Bear with me, cousin, for I was amaz'd + Under the tide; but now I breathe again + Aloft the flood, and can give audience + To any tongue, speak it of what it will. + BASTARD. How I have sped among the clergymen + The sums I have collected shall express. + But as I travell'd hither through the land, + I find the people strangely fantasied; + Possess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams. + Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear; + And here's a prophet that I brought with me + From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found + With many hundreds treading on his heels; + To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding rhymes, + That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, + Your Highness should deliver up your crown. + KING JOHN. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? + PETER. Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so. + KING JOHN. Hubert, away with him; imprison him; + And on that day at noon whereon he says + I shall yield up my crown let him be hang'd. + Deliver him to safety; and return, + For I must use thee. + Exit HUBERT with +PETER + O my gentle cousin, + Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arriv'd? + BASTARD. The French, my lord; men's mouths are full of it; + Besides, I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury, + With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire, + And others more, going to seek the grave + Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to-night + On your suggestion. + KING JOHN. Gentle kinsman, go + And thrust thyself into their companies. + I have a way to will their loves again; + Bring them before me. + BASTARD. I will seek them out. + KING JOHN. Nay, but make haste; the better foot before. + O, let me have no subject enemies + When adverse foreigners affright my towns + With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! + Be Mercury, set feathers to thy heels, + And fly like thought from them to me again. + BASTARD. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed. + KING JOHN. Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman. + Exit +BASTARD + Go after him; for he perhaps shall need + Some messenger betwixt me and the peers; + And be thou he. + MESSENGER. With all my heart, my liege. +Exit + KING JOHN. My mother dead! + + Re-enter HUBERT + + HUBERT. My lord, they say five moons were seen to-night; + Four fixed, and the fifth did whirl about + The other four in wondrous motion. + KING JOHN. Five moons! + HUBERT. Old men and beldams in the streets + Do prophesy upon it dangerously; + Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths; + And when they talk of him, they shake their heads, + And whisper one another in the ear; + And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, + Whilst he that hears makes fearful action + With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. + I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, + The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, + With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; + Who, with his shears and measure in his hand, + Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste + Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet, + Told of a many thousand warlike French + That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent. + Another lean unwash'd artificer + Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. + KING JOHN. Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears? + Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death? + Thy hand hath murd'red him. I had a mighty cause + To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him. + HUBERT. No had, my lord! Why, did you not provoke me? + KING JOHN. It is the curse of kings to be attended + By slaves that take their humours for a warrant + To break within the bloody house of life, + And on the winking of authority + To understand a law; to know the meaning + Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns + More upon humour than advis'd respect. + HUBERT. Here is your hand and seal for what I did. + KING JOHN. O, when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth + Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal + Witness against us to damnation! + How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds + Make deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, + A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, + Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame, + This murder had not come into my mind; + But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect, + Finding thee fit for bloody villainy, + Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, + I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death; + And thou, to be endeared to a king, + Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. + HUBERT. My lord- + KING JOHN. Hadst thou but shook thy head or made pause, + When I spake darkly what I purposed, + Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, + As bid me tell my tale in express words, + Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, + And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. + But thou didst understand me by my signs, + And didst in signs again parley with sin; + Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, + And consequently thy rude hand to act + The deed which both our tongues held vile to name. + Out of my sight, and never see me more! + My nobles leave me; and my state is braved, + Even at my gates, with ranks of foreign pow'rs; + Nay, in the body of the fleshly land, + This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, + Hostility and civil tumult reigns + Between my conscience and my cousin's death. + HUBERT. Arm you against your other enemies, + I'll make a peace between your soul and you. + Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mine + Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand, + Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. + Within this bosom never ent'red yet + The dreadful motion of a murderous thought + And you have slander'd nature in my form, + Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, + Is yet the cover of a fairer mind + Than to be butcher of an innocent child. + KING JOHN. Doth Arthur live? O, haste thee to the peers, + Throw this report on their incensed rage + And make them tame to their obedience! + Forgive the comment that my passion made + Upon thy feature; for my rage was blind, + And foul imaginary eyes of blood + Presented thee more hideous than thou art. + O, answer not; but to my closet bring + The angry lords with all expedient haste. + I conjure thee but slowly; run more fast. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +England. Before the castle + +Enter ARTHUR, on the walls + + ARTHUR. The wall is high, and yet will I leap down. + Good ground, be pitiful and hurt me not! + There's few or none do know me; if they did, + This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite. + I am afraid; and yet I'll venture it. + If I get down and do not break my limbs, + I'll find a thousand shifts to get away. + As good to die and go, as die and stay. [Leaps +down] + O me! my uncle's spirit is in these stones. + Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones! + [Dies] + + Enter PEMBROKE, SALISBURY, and BIGOT + + SALISBURY. Lords, I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury; + It is our safety, and we must embrace + This gentle offer of the perilous time. + PEMBROKE. Who brought that letter from the Cardinal? + SALISBURY. The Count Melun, a noble lord of France, + Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love + Is much more general than these lines import. + BIGOT. To-morrow morning let us meet him then. + SALISBURY. Or rather then set forward; for 'twill be + Two long days' journey, lords, or ere we meet. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. Once more to-day well met, distemper'd lords! + The King by me requests your presence straight. + SALISBURY. The King hath dispossess'd himself of us. + We will not line his thin bestained cloak + With our pure honours, nor attend the foot + That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks. + Return and tell him so. We know the worst. + BASTARD. Whate'er you think, good words, I think, were best. + SALISBURY. Our griefs, and not our manners, reason now. + BASTARD. But there is little reason in your grief; + Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now. + PEMBROKE. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privilege. + BASTARD. 'Tis true-to hurt his master, no man else. + SALISBURY. This is the prison. What is he lies here? + PEMBROKE. O death, made proud with pure and princely beauty! + The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. + SALISBURY. Murder, as hating what himself hath done, + Doth lay it open to urge on revenge. + BIGOT. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a grave, + Found it too precious-princely for a grave. + SALISBURY. Sir Richard, what think you? Have you beheld, + Or have you read or heard, or could you think? + Or do you almost think, although you see, + That you do see? Could thought, without this object, + Form such another? This is the very top, + The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest, + Of murder's arms; this is the bloodiest shame, + The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke, + That ever wall-ey'd wrath or staring rage + Presented to the tears of soft remorse. + PEMBROKE. All murders past do stand excus'd in this; + And this, so sole and so unmatchable, + Shall give a holiness, a purity, + To the yet unbegotten sin of times, + And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, + Exampled by this heinous spectacle. + BASTARD. It is a damned and a bloody work; + The graceless action of a heavy hand, + If that it be the work of any hand. + SALISBURY. If that it be the work of any hand! + We had a kind of light what would ensue. + It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand; + The practice and the purpose of the King; + From whose obedience I forbid my soul + Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, + And breathing to his breathless excellence + The incense of a vow, a holy vow, + Never to taste the pleasures of the world, + Never to be infected with delight, + Nor conversant with ease and idleness, + Till I have set a glory to this hand + By giving it the worship of revenge. + PEMBROKE. and BIGOT. Our souls religiously confirm thy words. + + Enter HUBERT + + HUBERT. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking you. + Arthur doth live; the King hath sent for you. + SALISBURY. O, he is bold, and blushes not at death! + Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone! + HUBERT. I am no villain. + SALISBURY. Must I rob the law? [Drawing his +sword] + BASTARD. Your sword is bright, sir; put it up again. + SALISBURY. Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin. + HUBERT. Stand back, Lord Salisbury, stand back, I say; + By heaven, I think my sword's as sharp as yours. + I would not have you, lord, forget yourself, + Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; + Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget + Your worth, your greatness and nobility. + BIGOT. Out, dunghill! Dar'st thou brave a nobleman? + HUBERT. Not for my life; but yet I dare defend + My innocent life against an emperor. + SALISBURY. Thou art a murderer. + HUBERT. Do not prove me so. + Yet I am none. Whose tongue soe'er speaks false, + Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. + PEMBROKE. Cut him to pieces. + BASTARD. Keep the peace, I say. + SALISBURY. Stand by, or I shall gall you, Faulconbridge. + BASTARD. Thou wert better gall the devil, Salisbury. + If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, + Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, + I'll strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime; + Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron + That you shall think the devil is come from hell. + BIGOT. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? + Second a villain and a murderer? + HUBERT. Lord Bigot, I am none. + BIGOT. Who kill'd this prince? + HUBERT. 'Tis not an hour since I left him well. + I honour'd him, I lov'd him, and will weep + My date of life out for his sweet life's loss. + SALISBURY. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, + For villainy is not without such rheum; + And he, long traded in it, makes it seem + Like rivers of remorse and innocency. + Away with me, all you whose souls abhor + Th' uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house; + For I am stifled with this smell of sin. + BIGOT. Away toward Bury, to the Dauphin there! + PEMBROKE. There tell the King he may inquire us out. + Exeunt +LORDS + BASTARD. Here's a good world! Knew you of this fair work? + Beyond the infinite and boundless reach + Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, + Art thou damn'd, Hubert. + HUBERT. Do but hear me, sir. + BASTARD. Ha! I'll tell thee what: + Thou'rt damn'd as black-nay, nothing is so black- + Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer; + There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell + As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. + HUBERT. Upon my soul- + BASTARD. If thou didst but consent + To this most cruel act, do but despair; + And if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread + That ever spider twisted from her womb + Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be a beam + To hang thee on; or wouldst thou drown thyself, + Put but a little water in a spoon + And it shall be as all the ocean, + Enough to stifle such a villain up + I do suspect thee very grievously. + HUBERT. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought, + Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath + Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, + Let hell want pains enough to torture me! + I left him well. + BASTARD. Go, bear him in thine arms. + I am amaz'd, methinks, and lose my way + Among the thorns and dangers of this world. + How easy dost thou take all England up! + From forth this morsel of dead royalty + The life, the right, and truth of all this realm + Is fled to heaven; and England now is left + To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth + The unowed interest of proud-swelling state. + Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty + Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest + And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace; + Now powers from home and discontents at home + Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits, + As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, + The imminent decay of wrested pomp. + Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can + Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, + And follow me with speed. I'll to the King; + A thousand businesses are brief in hand, + And heaven itself doth frown upon the land. +Exeunt + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. PROHIBITED COMMERCIAL DISTRIBUTION INCLUDES BY ANY +SERVICE THAT CHARGES FOR DOWNLOAD TIME OR FOR MEMBERSHIP.>> + + + +ACT V. SCENE 1. +England. KING JOHN'S palace + +Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH, and attendants + + KING JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand + The circle of my glory. + PANDULPH. [Gives back the crown] Take again + From this my hand, as holding of the Pope, + Your sovereign greatness and authority. + KING JOHN. Now keep your holy word; go meet the French; + And from his Holiness use all your power + To stop their marches fore we are inflam'd. + Our discontented counties do revolt; + Our people quarrel with obedience, + Swearing allegiance and the love of soul + To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. + This inundation of mistemp'red humour + Rests by you only to be qualified. + Then pause not; for the present time's so sick + That present med'cine must be minist'red + Or overthrow incurable ensues. + PANDULPH. It was my breath that blew this tempest up, + Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope; + But since you are a gentle convertite, + My tongue shall hush again this storm of war + And make fair weather in your blust'ring land. + On this Ascension-day, remember well, + Upon your oath of service to the Pope, + Go I to make the French lay down their arms. +Exit + KING JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the prophet + Say that before Ascension-day at noon + My crown I should give off? Even so I have. + I did suppose it should be on constraint; + But, heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out + But Dover Castle. London hath receiv'd, + Like a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers. + Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone + To offer service to your enemy; + And wild amazement hurries up and down + The little number of your doubtful friends. + KING JOHN. Would not my lords return to me again + After they heard young Arthur was alive? + BASTARD. They found him dead, and cast into the streets, + An empty casket, where the jewel of life + By some damn'd hand was robbed and ta'en away. + KING JOHN. That villain Hubert told me he did live. + BASTARD. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. + But wherefore do you droop? Why look you sad? + Be great in act, as you have been in thought; + Let not the world see fear and sad distrust + Govern the motion of a kingly eye. + Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; + Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow + Of bragging horror; so shall inferior eyes, + That borrow their behaviours from the great, + Grow great by your example and put on + The dauntless spirit of resolution. + Away, and glister like the god of war + When he intendeth to become the field; + Show boldness and aspiring confidence. + What, shall they seek the lion in his den, + And fright him there, and make him tremble there? + O, let it not be said! Forage, and run + To meet displeasure farther from the doors + And grapple with him ere he come so nigh. + KING JOHN. The legate of the Pope hath been with me, + And I have made a happy peace with him; + And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers + Led by the Dauphin. + BASTARD. O inglorious league! + Shall we, upon the footing of our land, + Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, + Insinuation, parley, and base truce, + To arms invasive? Shall a beardless boy, + A cock'red silken wanton, brave our fields + And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, + Mocking the air with colours idly spread, + And find no check? Let us, my liege, to arms. + Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace; + Or, if he do, let it at least be said + They saw we had a purpose of defence. + KING JOHN. Have thou the ordering of this present time. + BASTARD. Away, then, with good courage! + Yet, I know + Our party may well meet a prouder foe. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 2. +England. The DAUPHIN'S camp at Saint Edmundsbury + +Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and +soldiers + + LEWIS. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out + And keep it safe for our remembrance; + Return the precedent to these lords again, + That, having our fair order written down, + Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, + May know wherefore we took the sacrament, + And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. + SALISBURY. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. + And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear + A voluntary zeal and an unurg'd faith + To your proceedings; yet, believe me, Prince, + I am not glad that such a sore of time + Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt, + And heal the inveterate canker of one wound + By making many. O, it grieves my soul + That I must draw this metal from my side + To be a widow-maker! O, and there + Where honourable rescue and defence + Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! + But such is the infection of the time + That, for the health and physic of our right, + We cannot deal but with the very hand + Of stern injustice and confused wrong. + And is't not pity, O my grieved friends! + That we, the sons and children of this isle, + Were born to see so sad an hour as this; + Wherein we step after a stranger-march + Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up + Her enemies' ranks-I must withdraw and weep + Upon the spot of this enforced cause- + To grace the gentry of a land remote + And follow unacquainted colours here? + What, here? O nation, that thou couldst remove! + That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, + Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself + And grapple thee unto a pagan shore, + Where these two Christian armies might combine + The blood of malice in a vein of league, + And not to spend it so unneighbourly! + LEWIS. A noble temper dost thou show in this; + And great affections wrestling in thy bosom + Doth make an earthquake of nobility. + O, what a noble combat hast thou fought + Between compulsion and a brave respect! + Let me wipe off this honourable dew + That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks. + My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, + Being an ordinary inundation; + But this effusion of such manly drops, + This show'r, blown up by tempest of the soul, + Startles mine eyes and makes me more amaz'd + Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven + Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. + Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury, + And with a great heart heave away this storm; + Commend these waters to those baby eyes + That never saw the giant world enrag'd, + Nor met with fortune other than at feasts, + Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping. + Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep + Into the purse of rich prosperity + As Lewis himself. So, nobles, shall you all, + That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. + + Enter PANDULPH + + And even there, methinks, an angel spake: + Look where the holy legate comes apace, + To give us warrant from the hand of heaven + And on our actions set the name of right + With holy breath. + PANDULPH. Hail, noble prince of France! + The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd + Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in, + That so stood out against the holy Church, + The great metropolis and see of Rome. + Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up + And tame the savage spirit of wild war, + That, like a lion fostered up at hand, + It may lie gently at the foot of peace + And be no further harmful than in show. + LEWIS. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back: + I am too high-born to be propertied, + To be a secondary at control, + Or useful serving-man and instrument + To any sovereign state throughout the world. + Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars + Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself + And brought in matter that should feed this fire; + And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out + With that same weak wind which enkindled it. + You taught me how to know the face of right, + Acquainted me with interest to this land, + Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; + And come ye now to tell me John hath made + His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me? + I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, + After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; + And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back + Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? + Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne, + What men provided, what munition sent, + To underprop this action? Is 't not I + That undergo this charge? Who else but I, + And such as to my claim are liable, + Sweat in this business and maintain this war? + Have I not heard these islanders shout out + 'Vive le roi!' as I have bank'd their towns? + Have I not here the best cards for the game + To will this easy match, play'd for a crown? + And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? + No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. + PANDULPH. You look but on the outside of this work. + LEWIS. Outside or inside, I will not return + Till my attempt so much be glorified + As to my ample hope was promised + Before I drew this gallant head of war, + And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world + To outlook conquest, and to will renown + Even in the jaws of danger and of death. + [Trumpet +sounds] + What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? + + Enter the BASTARD, attended + + BASTARD. According to the fair play of the world, + Let me have audience: I am sent to speak. + My holy lord of Milan, from the King + I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; + And, as you answer, I do know the scope + And warrant limited unto my tongue. + PANDULPH. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, + And will not temporize with my entreaties; + He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms. + BASTARD. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, + The youth says well. Now hear our English King; + For thus his royalty doth speak in me. + He is prepar'd, and reason too he should. + This apish and unmannerly approach, + This harness'd masque and unadvised revel + This unhair'd sauciness and boyish troops, + The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd + To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, + From out the circle of his territories. + That hand which had the strength, even at your door. + To cudgel you and make you take the hatch, + To dive like buckets in concealed wells, + To crouch in litter of your stable planks, + To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks, + To hug with swine, to seek sweet safety out + In vaults and prisons, and to thrill and shake + Even at the crying of your nation's crow, + Thinking this voice an armed Englishman- + Shall that victorious hand be feebled here + That in your chambers gave you chastisement? + No. Know the gallant monarch is in arms + And like an eagle o'er his aery tow'rs + To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. + And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, + You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb + Of your dear mother England, blush for shame; + For your own ladies and pale-visag'd maids, + Like Amazons, come tripping after drums, + Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, + Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts + To fierce and bloody inclination. + LEWIS. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; + We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well; + We hold our time too precious to be spent + With such a brabbler. + PANDULPH. Give me leave to speak. + BASTARD. No, I will speak. + LEWIS. We will attend to neither. + Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war, + Plead for our interest and our being here. + BASTARD. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; + And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start + And echo with the clamour of thy drum, + And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd + That shall reverberate all as loud as thine: + Sound but another, and another shall, + As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear + And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder; for at hand- + Not trusting to this halting legate here, + Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need- + Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits + A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day + To feast upon whole thousands of the French. + LEWIS. Strike up our drums to find this danger out. + BASTARD. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt. + Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 3. + +England. The field of battle + +Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT + + KING JOHN. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. + HUBERT. Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty? + KING JOHN. This fever that hath troubled me so long + Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge, + Desires your Majesty to leave the field + And send him word by me which way you go. + KING JOHN. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there. + MESSENGER. Be of good comfort; for the great supply + That was expected by the Dauphin here + Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands; + This news was brought to Richard but even now. + The French fight coldly, and retire themselves. + KING JOHN. Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up + And will not let me welcome this good news. + Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight; + Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 4. + +England. Another part of the battlefield + +Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT + + SALISBURY. I did not think the King so stor'd with friends. + PEMBROKE. Up once again; put spirit in the French; + If they miscarry, we miscarry too. + SALISBURY. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge, + In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. + PEMBROKE. They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field. + + Enter MELUN, wounded + + MELUN. Lead me to the revolts of England here. + SALISBURY. When we were happy we had other names. + PEMBROKE. It is the Count Melun. + SALISBURY. Wounded to death. + MELUN. Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold; + Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, + And welcome home again discarded faith. + Seek out King John, and fall before his feet; + For if the French be lords of this loud day, + He means to recompense the pains you take + By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn, + And I with him, and many moe with me, + Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury; + Even on that altar where we swore to you + Dear amity and everlasting love. + SALISBURY. May this be possible? May this be true? + MELUN. Have I not hideous death within my view, + Retaining but a quantity of life, + Which bleeds away even as a form of wax + Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire? + What in the world should make me now deceive, + Since I must lose the use of all deceit? + Why should I then be false, since it is true + That I must die here, and live hence by truth? + I say again, if Lewis do will the day, + He is forsworn if e'er those eyes of yours + Behold another day break in the east; + But even this night, whose black contagious breath + Already smokes about the burning crest + Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, + Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, + Paying the fine of rated treachery + Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives. + If Lewis by your assistance win the day. + Commend me to one Hubert, with your King; + The love of him-and this respect besides, + For that my grandsire was an Englishman- + Awakes my conscience to confess all this. + In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence + From forth the noise and rumour of the field, + Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts + In peace, and part this body and my soul + With contemplation and devout desires. + SALISBURY. We do believe thee; and beshrew my soul + But I do love the favour and the form + Of this most fair occasion, by the which + We will untread the steps of damned flight, + And like a bated and retired flood, + Leaving our rankness and irregular course, + Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, + And calmly run on in obedience + Even to our ocean, to great King John. + My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; + For I do see the cruel pangs of death + Right in thine eye. Away, my friends! New flight, + And happy newness, that intends old right. + Exeunt, leading off +MELUN + + + + +SCENE 5. + +England. The French camp + +Enter LEWIS and his train + + LEWIS. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, + But stay'd and made the western welkin blush, + When English measure backward their own ground + In faint retire. O, bravely came we off, + When with a volley of our needless shot, + After such bloody toil, we bid good night; + And wound our tott'ring colours clearly up, + Last in the field and almost lords of it! + + Enter a MESSENGER + + MESSENGER. Where is my prince, the Dauphin? + LEWIS. Here; what news? + MESSENGER. The Count Melun is slain; the English lords + By his persuasion are again fall'n off, + And your supply, which you have wish'd so long, + Are cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands. + LEWIS. Ah, foul shrewd news! Beshrew thy very heart! + I did not think to be so sad to-night + As this hath made me. Who was he that said + King John did fly an hour or two before + The stumbling night did part our weary pow'rs? + MESSENGER. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord. + LEWIS. keep good quarter and good care to-night; + The day shall not be up so soon as I + To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 6. + +An open place near Swinstead Abbey + +Enter the BASTARD and HUBERT, severally + + HUBERT. Who's there? Speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. + BASTARD. A friend. What art thou? + HUBERT. Of the part of England. + BASTARD. Whither dost thou go? + HUBERT. What's that to thee? Why may I not demand + Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine? + BASTARD. Hubert, I think. + HUBERT. Thou hast a perfect thought. + I will upon all hazards well believe + Thou art my friend that know'st my tongue so well. + Who art thou? + BASTARD. Who thou wilt. And if thou please, + Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think + I come one way of the Plantagenets. + HUBERT. Unkind remembrance! thou and eyeless night + Have done me shame. Brave soldier, pardon me + That any accent breaking from thy tongue + Should scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. + BASTARD. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? + HUBERT. Why, here walk I in the black brow of night + To find you out. + BASTARD. Brief, then; and what's the news? + HUBERT. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, + Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. + BASTARD. Show me the very wound of this ill news; + I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. + HUBERT. The King, I fear, is poison'd by a monk; + I left him almost speechless and broke out + To acquaint you with this evil, that you might + The better arm you to the sudden time + Than if you had at leisure known of this. + BASTARD. How did he take it; who did taste to him? + HUBERT. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain, + Whose bowels suddenly burst out. The King + Yet speaks, and peradventure may recover. + BASTARD. Who didst thou leave to tend his Majesty? + HUBERT. Why, know you not? The lords are all come back, + And brought Prince Henry in their company; + At whose request the King hath pardon'd them, + And they are all about his Majesty. + BASTARD. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, + And tempt us not to bear above our power! + I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, + Passing these flats, are taken by the tide- + These Lincoln Washes have devoured them; + Myself, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd. + Away, before! conduct me to the King; + I doubt he will be dead or ere I come. +Exeunt + + + + +SCENE 7. + +The orchard at Swinstead Abbey + +Enter PRINCE HENRY, SALISBURY, and BIGOT + + PRINCE HENRY. It is too late; the life of all his blood + Is touch'd corruptibly, and his pure brain. + Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house, + Doth by the idle comments that it makes + Foretell the ending of mortality. + + Enter PEMBROKE + + PEMBROKE. His Highness yet doth speak, and holds belief + That, being brought into the open air, + It would allay the burning quality + Of that fell poison which assaileth him. + PRINCE HENRY. Let him be brought into the orchard here. + Doth he still rage? Exit +BIGOT + PEMBROKE. He is more patient + Than when you left him; even now he sung. + PRINCE HENRY. O vanity of sickness! Fierce extremes + In their continuance will not feel themselves. + Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, + Leaves them invisible, and his siege is now + Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds + With many legions of strange fantasies, + Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, + Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should sing. + I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan + Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, + And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings + His soul and body to their lasting rest. + SALISBURY. Be of good comfort, Prince; for you are born + To set a form upon that indigest + Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. + + Re-enter BIGOT and attendants, who bring in + KING JOHN in a chair + + KING JOHN. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; + It would not out at windows nor at doors. + There is so hot a summer in my bosom + That all my bowels crumble up to dust. + I am a scribbled form drawn with a pen + Upon a parchment, and against this fire + Do I shrink up. + PRINCE HENRY. How fares your Majesty? + KING JOHN. Poison'd-ill-fare! Dead, forsook, cast off; + And none of you will bid the winter come + To thrust his icy fingers in my maw, + Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course + Through my burn'd bosom, nor entreat the north + To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips + And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much; + I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait + And so ingrateful you deny me that. + PRINCE HENRY. O that there were some virtue in my tears, + That might relieve you! + KING JOHN. The salt in them is hot. + Within me is a hell; and there the poison + Is as a fiend confin'd to tyrannize + On unreprievable condemned blood. + + Enter the BASTARD + + BASTARD. O, I am scalded with my violent motion + And spleen of speed to see your Majesty! + KING JOHN. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye! + The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burnt, + And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail + Are turned to one thread, one little hair; + My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, + Which holds but till thy news be uttered; + And then all this thou seest is but a clod + And module of confounded royalty. + BASTARD. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, + Where God He knows how we shall answer him; + For in a night the best part of my pow'r, + As I upon advantage did remove, + Were in the Washes all unwarily + Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The KING +dies] + SALISBURY. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. + My liege! my lord! But now a king-now thus. + PRINCE HENRY. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. + What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, + When this was now a king, and now is clay? + BASTARD. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind + To do the office for thee of revenge, + And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, + As it on earth hath been thy servant still. + Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres, + Where be your pow'rs? Show now your mended faiths, + And instantly return with me again + To push destruction and perpetual shame + Out of the weak door of our fainting land. + Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought; + The Dauphin rages at our very heels. + SALISBURY. It seems you know not, then, so much as we: + The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, + Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, + And brings from him such offers of our peace + As we with honour and respect may take, + With purpose presently to leave this war. + BASTARD. He will the rather do it when he sees + Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. + SALISBURY. Nay, 'tis in a manner done already; + For many carriages he hath dispatch'd + To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel + To the disposing of the Cardinal; + With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, + If you think meet, this afternoon will post + To consummate this business happily. + BASTARD. Let it be so. And you, my noble Prince, + With other princes that may best be spar'd, + Shall wait upon your father's funeral. + PRINCE HENRY. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; + For so he will'd it. + BASTARD. Thither shall it, then; + And happily may your sweet self put on + The lineal state and glory of the land! + To whom, with all submission, on my knee + I do bequeath my faithful services + And true subjection everlastingly. + SALISBURY. And the like tender of our love we make, + To rest without a spot for evermore. + PRINCE HENRY. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks, + And knows not how to do it but with tears. + BASTARD. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, + Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. + This England never did, nor never shall, + Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, + But when it first did help to wound itself. + Now these her princes are come home again, + Come the three corners of the world in arms, + And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, + If England to itself do rest but true. +Exeunt + +THE END + + + + + +<<THIS ELECTRONIC VERSION OF THE COMPLETE WORKS OF WILLIAM +SHAKESPEARE IS COPYRIGHT 1990-1993 BY WORLD LIBRARY, INC., AND IS +PROVIDED BY PROJECT GUTENBERG ETEXT OF CARNEGIE MELLON UNIVERSITY +WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE +DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS +PERSONAL USE ONLY, AND (2) ARE NOT DISTRIBUTED OR USED +COMMERCIALLY. 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