Const G One to be marry'd! 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 fo; thou hast mif-fpoke, mif-heard; Γ Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy tale again, It cannot be; thou doft but fay 'tis fo. A Believe me, I do not believe thee, man; Sal. As true as, I believe, you think them false, Fellow, : Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy fight *. 7 "If thou that bid'st me be content, wert grim, Ugly, and fland'rous to thy mother's womb, " Full of unpleasing blots, and fightless stains, "Lame, foolish, crooked, fwart, prodigious, "Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks; : ! : 2 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 may'st with lilies boast, And with the half-blown rose." But Fortune, oh! She is corrupted, change'd, and, won from thee, Adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France To tread down fair respect of fovereignty, And made his Majesty the bawd to theirs. France is a bawd to Fortune, and to John: That strumpet Fortune, that ufurping John! Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn? Invenom him with words; or get thee gone, And leave these woes alone, which I alone Am bound to underbear. Sal. Pardon me, Madam, : I may not go without you to the Kings. I will instruct my forrows to be proud: * - brook thy fight. This news hath made thee a most ugly man. As it makes harmful all that speak of it, [Sits down on the floor. Can hold it up. Here I and forrow fit. SCENE II. Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, Blanch, Elinor, Faulconbridge, und Austria. K. Phil. "Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessed Ever in France fhall be kept festival. [day Conft. A wicked day, and not an holiday.- [Rifing. What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letter should be fet Among the high tides in the kalendar? Nay, rather turn this day out of the week, This day of shame, oppreffion, perjury: Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child Pray, that their burthens may not fall this day, Left that their hopes prodigioufly be crofs'd. But on this day, let feamen 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 falfehood change! K. Phil. 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? Conft. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling majesty, which, touch'd and try'd, Proves valueless: you are forfworn, forfworn; You came in arms to spill my enemies blood, But now in arms you strengthen it with your's. The grappling vigour, and rough frown of war, Is cold in amity and painted peace, And our oppreffion hath made up this league. Arm, arm, ye heav'ns, against these perjur'd kings. A A widow cries, be husband to me, heav'n! Auft. Lady Constance, peace. Conft. 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 cowThou little valiant, great in villany ! [ard, Thou ever ftrong upon the stronger fide; limbs. 1 Auft. Thou dar'st not say so, villain, for thy life. : Faulc. And hang a calve's-skin on those recreant limbs. Auft. * Methinks that Richard's pride, and Richard's fall • Should be a precedent to fright you, Sir. : * What was the ground of this quarrel of the bastard to Austria, is no where specified in the present play: nor is there in this place, or the scene where it is first hinted at (namely the second of act 2.) the leaft mention of any reason for it. But the ftory is, that Auftria, who kill'd King Richard Cœur de lion, wore, as the spoil of that Princefa lion's hide which had belonged to him. This circumftance renders the anger of the bastard very natural, and ought not to have been omitico. In the first fketch of this play, (which Shakespeare is faid to have had a hand in, jointly with Wm. Rowley), we accordingly find this infifted upon, and I have ventured to place a few of those verfes here. Mr. Pope. [shake! Faulc. What words are these? how do my finews • My father's foe clad in my father's spoil! • How doth Alecto whisper in my ears, Delay not, Richard, kill the villain strait; Difrobe him of the matchless monument. Thy father's triumph o'er the favages. Now, by this foul I swear, my father's foul, Twice will I not review the morning's rife, • Till I have torn that trophy from thy back; • And split thy heart for wearing it fo long. i K. John. We like not this, thou dost forget thyself. SCENE III. Enter Pandulph. K. Phil, Here comes the holy Legate of the pope. To thee, King John, my holy errand is : K. John. What earthly name to interrogatories K. Phil. Brother of England, you blafpheme in this. Are led fo grossly by this meddling prieft, Sf Dreading |