One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither, yet for both.

Re-enter the two KINGS, with their powers, severally.

K. 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.

K. Phi. 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.

Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
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-potent, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm

340

350

360

The other's peace; till then, blows, blood and death!
K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?
K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England, who's your king?
First Cit. The King of England, when we know the king.
K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,

And bear possession of our person here,

Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

First Cit. A greater power 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.

370

Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings, And stand securely on their battlements,

As in a theatre, whence they gape and point your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences be rul'd by me:

At

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'ld 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,

380

390

And kiss him with a glorious victory.

How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?

Smacks it not something of the policy?

K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,

I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers

And lay this Angiers even with the ground;

Then after fight who shall be king of it?

Bast. 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.

K. Phi. Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?
K. John. We from the west will send destruction

Into this city's bosom.

Aust. I from the north.
K. Phi.

400

410

Our thunders from the south

Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Bust. 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!

First Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay,

286 Even till, etc. This line, read with modern pronunciation, is merest prose; but it is a perfect verse. Even is as one syllable, e'en; unfenced and desolation are trisyllables. "E'en till Junfenced des]o-lati-o."

181 vulgar common.

And I shall show you peace and fair-faced 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.

K. John. Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear. First Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch,

Is niece to England: look upon the years

Of Lewis the Dolphin 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 Dolphin 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,

420

430

440

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.

Bast.

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

450

As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!

460

438 by such as she. We should probably read, "by such a she."

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.

Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this match; Give with our niece a dowry large enough:

470

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.

First Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city: what say you?

K. John. If that the Dolphin 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,

480

Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich

490

In titles, honours and promotions,

As she in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any princess of the world.

K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face.
Lew. I do, my lord; and in her

A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,

eye I find

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.
Bast. 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,

500

[Whispers with Blanch.

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 any thing 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 easily 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.

K. John. What say these young ones?

niece?

510

520

What say you, my

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do

What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

K. John. Speak then, prince Dolphin; can you love this lady?

Lew. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;

For I do love her most unfeignedly.

K. 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.

K. Phi. It likes us well; young princes, close your hands.
Aust. And your lips too; for I am well assur'd

That I did so when I was first assur'd.

K. Phi. 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 solemnized.
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.

Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent.
K. Phi. 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 ;

530

540

527 Volquessen, Maine, etc. the old play: 555 when I was first assur'd when I was first troth-plighted. passionate: that 18, abandoned to her emotions.

No such dowry is mentioned in history: S. took it from