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To give us warrant from the hand of heaven;
And on our actions set the name of right,
With holy breath.

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 foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show.
Lew. 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 chástis'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 enterprize into my heart; And come you 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, I 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 roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the

To win this easy match play'd for a crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set?
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.

Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.

Lew. 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 culld these fiery spirits from the world,
To outlook conquest, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.

[Trumpet sounds. What lusty, trumpet thus doth summon us?


Enter the Bastard, attended.

Bast. 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.

Pan. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite,
And will not temporize with my entreaties;
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms.

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breath’d,



as I have bank'd their towns?] i. e. sailed along the banks of the river.

drew this gallant head of war,] i. e, assembled it, drew it out into the field.

outlook —). i. e. down, bear down by a how of magnanimity.



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

To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;?
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;8
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 his 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 aiery towers, 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,





take the hatch;] To take the hatch, is to leap the hatch. To take a: hedge or a ditch is the hunter's phrase.

in concealed wells ;] Concealed wells are wells in concealed or obscure situations; viz. in places secured from public notice.

of your nation's crow,] i. e. at the crowing of a cock; gallus meaning both a cock and a Frenchman.

his aiery towers,] An aiery is the nest of an eagle,







Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in

We grant, thou canst outscold'us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With such a brabbler.

Give me leave to speak.
Bast. No, I will speak.

We will attend to neither:Strike


the drums; and let the tongue of war Plead for our interest, and our being here. Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry

out; And so shall you, being beaten: Do but start An 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, Aș loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear, And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand (Not trusting to this haiting 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. Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger

out, Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.


* Their neelds to lances,] i. e. needles.


The same. A Field of Battle.

Alarums. Enter King John and HUBERT. K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me,

Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty ? K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me so

long, Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is sick!

Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulcon

bridge, Desires your majesty to leave the field; And send him word by me, which way you go. K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead," to the

abbey there. Mess. 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.

K. John. Ah 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.



Swinstead,] i. e. Swineshead.

Richard ---] Sir Richard Faulconbridge ;-and yet the King, a little before, (Act III. sc. ii.) calls him by his original name of Philip. STEEVENS.

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