Upon the dancing banner, of the French,
Who are at hand triumphantly display'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 those fame hands,
That did difplay them, when we first march'd forth
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, '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.
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 beft eyes cannot be cenfured;
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blow;
Strength match'd with ftrength, and power confronted
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
In this hot tryal, more than we of France;
Rather loft more. And by this hand I fwear,
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 fteel
The fwords of foldiers are his teeth, his phangs;
And now he feafts, 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 ftained field,
3 Gry bavock! Kings;] He with Atè by his fide, That is, command flaughter to pro- Cries, havock!
ceed; fo in another place.
You equal Potents, fiery-kindled fpirits!
Then let Confufion of one part confirm
The other's peace; till then, blows, blood, and deathi
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, Angiers, 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 fharpeft deeds of malice on this town.
By eaft 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 these jades;
Even till unfenced defolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
+ In former copies:
A greater pow'r, than WE,
denies all this;
Kings Of our fears, fhould read, than ye.
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. WARE.
That
That done, diffever your united ftrengths,
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 dash'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 weft 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 ftir them to it; come, away, away!
Cit. Hear us, great Kings; vouchsafe 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;
Perfever not, but hear me, mighty Kings.
K. John. Speak on, with favour; we are bent to
Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch,
Is near to England; look upon the years
Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely maid.
If lufty love fhould go in queft of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If* zealous love fhould go in fearch of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love, ambitious, fought a match of Birth,
Whofe veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way compleat:
If not compleat, oh fay, he is not fhe
And the 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 fuch a She:
And fhe a fair divided Excellence,
Whofe fulness of perfection lies in him.
Oh! two fuch filver currents, when they join;
Do glorifie the banks that bound them in:
And two fuch fhores, to two fuch ftreams made one,
Two fuch controlling bounds fhall you be, Kings,
To these two Princes, if you marry them.
This union fhall do more than battery can,
To our faft-clofed gates: for at this match 7,
With fwifter Spleen than Powder can enforce,
The mouth of paffage fhall we fling wide ope,
* Zealous feems here to fignify pious, or influenced by motives of religion.
s If not complete of, say, &c.] Sir T. Hanmer reads, O! Jay. He is the half Part of a bleffed Man,
Left to be finished by fuch as She;] Dr. Thirlby prefcrib'd that Reading, which I have here reftoed to the Text. THEOBALD,
at this match, With fawifter Spleen, &c.] Our authour ufes Spleen for any violent hurry, or tumultuous fpeed. So in Midsummer Night's Dream he applies Spleen to the lightening. I am loath to think that Shakespeare meant to play with the double of match for nuptial, and the match of a gun.
|