That to their everlafting refidence,

Before the dew of evening fall, fhall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's King!

K. Philip. Amen, Amen.

arms!

Mount, chevaliers, to

Faulc. Saint George, that fwing'd the dragon, and

e'er fince

Sits on his horfeback at mine hoftefs' door,

Teach us fome fence. Sirrah, were I at home
At your den, firrah, with your Lioness,
I'd fet an ox-head to your Lion's hide,
And make a monfter of you.-

Auft. Peace, no more.

[To Auftria.

Faulc. O, tremble; for you hear the Lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain! where we'll fet
forth

In beft appointment all our regiments.

Faulc. Speed then to take th' advantage of the field. K. Philip. It fhall be fo-and at the other hill Command the reft to ftand. God, and our right! [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

After excurfions, enter the Herald of France with trumpets to the gates.

8

F. Her. Ye men of Angiers, open wide your gates, And let young Arthur Duke of Bretagne in; Who by the hand of France this day hath made Much work for tears in many an English mother, Whofe fons lye scatter'd on the bleeding ground : And many a widow's hufband groveling lies, Coldly embracing the difcolour'd earth; While victory with little lofs doth play

the earth, is juft and beautiful.

8 Ye men of Angiers, &.-] of the widow's husband embracing This fpeech is very poetical and fmooth, and except the conce.t

Upon

Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly difplay'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Bretagne, England's King, and yours.

Enter English Herald with Trumpets.

E. Her. Rejoice, ye 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 fo filver-bright,
Hither return all gilt in Frenchmens' blood.
There stuck no plume in any English Creft,
That is removed by a staff of France.
Our Colours do return in thofe fame hands,

That did display them, when we first march'd forth;
And, like a jolly troop of huntfmen, come
Our lufty English, all with purpled hands;
Dy'd in the dying flaughter of their foes.
Open your gates, and give the victors way.

2

Cit. Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold, From first to laft, the Onfet and Retire

Of both your armies, whofe equality
By our best eyes cannot be cenfured;

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have anfwer'd blows;

Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted

power.

9 Rejoice, ye men of Angiers, &c.] The English herald falls fomewhat below his antagonist. Silver armour gilt with blood, is a poor image. Yet our authour has it again in Macbeth.

Here lay Duncan, His filver fin lac'd with his golden blood.

And, like a jolly troop of

buntfmen,] It was, I think, one of the favage practices of the chafe, for all to ftain their hands in the blood of the deer, as a trophy.

Heralds, from off, &c.—] These three fpeeches feem to have been laboured. The citizen's is the beft; yet both alike we like, is a poor gingle.

Both

Both are alike, and both alike we like;

One must prove greatest. While they weigh fo even, We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

Enter the two Kings with their Powers, at feveral

Doors.

K. John. France, haft thou yet more blood to caft away?

Say, fhall the current of our Right run on?
Whose paffage, vext with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-fwell
With course disturb'd ev'n thy confining fhores;
Unless thou let his filver water keep

A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Philip. England, thou haft not fav'd one drop of
blood

In this hot tryal, more than we of France;
Rather loft more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay by our juft-borne arms,

We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear;
Or add a royal number to the dead

Gracing the fcroul, that tells of this war's lofs,
With flaughter coupled to the name of Kings.

Faulc. Ha! Majefty,-how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of Kings is fet on fire!
Oh, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The fwords of foldiers are his teeth, his phangs;
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men
In undetermin'd diff'rences of Kings.
Why stand these royal Fronts amazed thus ?
Cry havock, Kings; back to the stained field,

3 Cry havock! Kings; ·] That is, command slaughter to preceed; fo in another place.

He with Atè by his file,
Cries, havock!

You

You equal Potents, fiery-kindled fpirits!
Then let Confufion of one part confirm

The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and death.
K. John. Whofe party do the townsmen yet admit ?
K. Philip. Speak, Citizens, for England, who's your
King?

Cit. The King of England, when we know the King?
K. Philip. Know him in us, that here hold up his
Right.

K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear poffeffion of our perfon here;
Lord of our prefence, Angers, and of you.

Cit. A greater pow'r, than ye, denies all this
And till it be undoubted, we do lock

Our former fcruple in our ftrong-barr'd gates.
Kings are our fears, until our fears refolv'd
Be by fome certain King purg'd and depos'd.
Faule. By heav'n, the Scroyles of Angiers flout you,
Kings,

And ftand fecurely on their battlements,
As in a Theatre, whence they gape and point
At your induftrious Scenes and Acts of death.
Your royal prefences, be rul'd by me;
Do like the Mutines of Jerufalem,

Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpeft deeds of malice on this town.
By east and weft let France and England mount
Their batt'ring cannon charged to the mouths;
Till their foul-fearing clamours have braul'd down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous City.
I'd play inceffantly upon thefe jades;
Even till unfenced defolation

Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.

4 In former copies :
A greater pow'r, than we,
den es all this;

,, Kings of our fears,-
fhould read, than ye.

-] We

What

power was this? their fears. It
is plain therefore we should read,
Kings are our fears,—
i. e our fears are the Kings
which at prefent rule us. WARB.
That

That done, diffever your united strengths,
And part your mingled Colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point.
Then in a moment fortune fhall cull forth
Out of one fide her happy minion;
To whom in favour fhe fhall give the day,
And kifs him with a glorious Victory.

How like you this wild counfel, mighty States?
Smacks it not fomething of the Policy?

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

I like it well. France, fhall we knit our Pow'rs,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground,
Then, after, fight who fhall be King of it?
Faulc. And if thou haft 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 fawcy walls;
And when that we have dafh'd them to the ground,
Why then defie each other; and, pell-mell,
Make work upon ourselves for heav'n or hell.

K. Philip. Let it be fo; fay, where will you affault? K. John. We from the west will send destruction Into this City's bofom.

Auft. I from the north.

K. Philip. Our thunder from the fouth Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Faulc. O prudent difcipline! from North to South; Auftria and France fhoot in each other's mouth. I'll stir them to it; come, away, away!

Cit. Hear us, great Kings; vouchfafe a while to stay,

And I fhall fhew you peace, and fair-fac'd league;
Win you this city without ftroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come facrifices for the field;
Persever not, but hear me, mighty Kings.

K. John.