Exeunt.
Scoena Secunda.
Enter Autolicus, and a Gentleman.
Aut. Beseech you (Sir) were you present at this Relation? Gent.1. I was by at the opening of the Farthell, heard the old Shepheard deliuer the manner how he found it: Whereupon (after a little amazednesse) we were all commanded out of the Chamber: onely this (me thought) I heard the Shepheard say, he found the Child
Aut. I would most gladly know the issue of it
Gent.1. I make a broken deliuerie of the Businesse; but the changes I perceiued in the King, and Camillo, were very Notes of admiration: they seem'd almost, with staring on one another, to teare the Cases of their Eyes. There was speech in their dumbnesse, Language in their very gesture: they look'd as they had heard of a World ransom'd, or one destroyed: a notable passion of Wonder appeared in them: but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not say, if th' importance were Ioy, or Sorrow; but in the extremitie of the one, it must needs be. Enter another Gentleman.
Here comes a Gentleman, that happily knowes more:The Newes, Rogero
Gent.2. Nothing but Bon-fires: the Oracle is fulfill'd: the Kings Daughter is found: such a deale of wonder is broken out within this houre, that Ballad-makers cannot be able to expresse it. Enter another Gentleman.
Here comes the Lady Paulina's Steward, hee can deliuer you more. How goes it now (Sir.) This Newes (which is call'd true) is so like an old Tale, that the veritie of it is in strong suspition: Ha's the King found his Heire? Gent.3. Most true, if euer Truth were pregnant by Circumstance: That which you heare, you'le sweare you see, there is such vnitie in the proofes. The Mantle of Queene Hermiones: her Iewell about the Neck of it: the Letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his Character: the Maiestie of the Creature, in resemblance of the Mother: the Affection of Noblenesse, which Nature shewes aboue her Breeding, and many other Euidences, proclayme her, with all certaintie, to be the Kings Daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two Kings? Gent.2. No
Gent.3. Then haue you lost a Sight which was to bee seene, cannot bee spoken of. There might you haue beheld one Ioy crowne another, so and in such manner, that it seem'd Sorrow wept to take leaue of them: for their Ioy waded in teares. There was casting vp of Eyes, holding vp of Hands, with Countenance of such distraction, that they were to be knowne by Garment, not by Fauor. Our King being ready to leape out of himselfe, for ioy of his found Daughter; as if that Ioy were now become a Losse, cryes, Oh, thy Mother, thy Mother: then askes Bohemia forgiuenesse, then embraces his Sonne-in-Law: then againe worryes he his Daughter, with clipping her. Now he thanks the old Shepheard (which stands by, like a Weather-bitten Conduit, of many Kings Reignes.) I neuer heard of such another Encounter; which lames Report to follow it, and vndo's description to doe it
Gent.2. What, 'pray you, became of Antigonus, that carryed hence the Child? Gent.3. Like an old Tale still, which will haue matter to rehearse, though Credit be asleepe, and not an eare open; he was torne to pieces with a Beare: This auouches the Shepheards Sonne; who ha's not onely his Innocence (which seemes much) to iustifie him, but a Hand-kerchief and Rings of his, that Paulina knowes
Gent.1. What became of his Barke, and his Followers? Gent.3. Wrackt the same instant of their Masters death, and in the view of the Shepheard: so that all the Instruments which ayded to expose the Child, were euen then lost, when it was found. But oh the Noble Combat, that 'twixt Ioy and Sorrow was fought in Paulina. Shee had one Eye declin'd for the losse of her Husband, another eleuated, that the Oracle was fulfill'd: Shee lifted the Princesse from the Earth, and so locks her in embracing, as if shee would pin her to her heart, that shee might no more be in danger of loosing
Gent.1. The Dignitie of this Act was worth the audience of Kings and Princes, for by such was it acted
Gent.3. One of the prettyest touches of all, and that which angl'd for mine Eyes (caught the Water, though not the Fish) was, when at the Relation of the Queenes death (with the manner how shee came to't, brauely confess'd, and lamented by the King) how attentiuenesse wounded his Daughter, till (from one signe of dolour to another) shee did (with an Alas) I would faine say, bleed Teares; for I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was most Marble, there changed colour: some swownded, all sorrowed: if all the World could haue seen't, the Woe had beene vniuersall
Gent.1. Are they returned to the Court? Gent.3. No: The Princesse hearing of her Mothers Statue (which is in the keeping of Paulina) a Peece many yeeres in doing, and now newly perform'd, by that rare Italian Master, Iulio Romano, who (had he himselfe Eternitie, and could put Breath into his Worke) would beguile Nature of her Custome, so perfectly he is her Ape: He so neere to Hermione, hath done Hermione, that they say one would speake to her, and stand in hope of answer. Thither (with all greedinesse of affection) are they gone, and there they intend to Sup
Gent.2. I thought she had some great matter there in hand, for shee hath priuately, twice or thrice a day, euer since the death of Hermione, visited that remoued House. Shall wee thither, and with our companie peece the Reioycing? Gent.1. Who would be thence, that ha's the benefit of Accesse? euery winke of an Eye, some new Grace will be borne: our Absence makes vs vnthriftie to our Knowledge. Let's along. Enter.
Aut. Now (had I not the dash of my former life in me) would Preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his Sonne aboord the Prince; told him, I heard them talke of a Farthell, and I know not what: but he at that time ouer-fond of the Shepheards Daughter (so he then tooke her to be) who began to be much Sea-sick, and himselfe little better, extremitie of Weather continuing, this Mysterie remained vndiscouer'd. But 'tis all one to me: for had I beene the finder-out of this Secret, it would not haue rellish'd among my other discredits. Enter Shepheard and Clowne.
Here come those I haue done good to against my will, and alreadie appearing in the blossomes of their Fortune
Shep. Come Boy, I am past moe Children: but thySonnes and Daughters will be all Gentlemen borne
Clow. You are well met (Sir:) you deny'd to fight with mee this other day, because I was no Gentleman borne. See you these Clothes? say you see them not, and thinke me still no Gentleman borne: You were best say these Robes are not Gentlemen borne. Giue me the Lye: doe: and try whether I am not now a Gentleman borne
Aut. I know you are now (Sir) a Gentleman borne
Clow. I, and haue been so any time these foure houres
Shep. And so haue I, Boy
Clow. So you haue: but I was a Gentleman borne before my Father: for the Kings Sonne tooke me by the hand, and call'd mee Brother: and then the two Kings call'd my Father Brother: and then the Prince (my Brother) and the Princesse (my Sister) call'd my Father, Father; and so wee wept: and there was the first Gentleman-like teares that euer we shed
Shep. We may liue (Sonne) to shed many more
Clow. I: or else 'twere hard luck, being in so preposterous estate as we are
Aut. I humbly beseech you (Sir) to pardon me all the faults I haue committed to your Worship, and to giue me your good report to the Prince my Master
Shep. 'Prethee Sonne doe: for we must be gentle, nowwe are Gentlemen
Clow. Thou wilt amend thy life?Aut. I, and it like your good Worship
Clow. Giue me thy hand: I will sweare to the Prince,thou art as honest a true Fellow as any is in Bohemia
Shep. You may say it, but not sweare it
Clow. Not sweare it, now I am a Gentleman? LetBoores and Francklins say it, Ile sweare it
Shep. How if it be false (Sonne?) Clow. If it be ne're so false, a true Gentleman may sweare it, in the behalfe of his Friend: And Ile sweare to the Prince, thou art a tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunke: but I know thou art no tall Fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunke: but Ile sweare it, and I would thou would'st be a tall Fellow of thy hands
Aut. I will proue so (Sir) to my power
Clow. I, by any meanes proue a tall Fellow: if I do not wonder, how thou dar'st venture to be drunke, not being a tall Fellow, trust me not. Harke, the Kings and Princes (our Kindred) are going to see the Queenes Picture. Come, follow vs: wee'le be thy good Masters.
Exeunt.
Scaena Tertia.
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizell, Perdita, Camillo, Paulina: Hermione (like a Statue:) Lords, &c.
Leo. O graue and good Paulina, the great comfortThat I haue had of thee?Paul. What (Soueraigne Sir)I did not well, I meant well: all my SeruicesYou haue pay'd home. But that you haue vouchsaf'd(With your Crown'd Brother, and these your contractedHeires of your Kingdomes) my poore House to visit;It is a surplus of your Grace, which neuerMy life may last to answere
Leo. O Paulina,We honor you with trouble: but we cameTo see the Statue of our Queene. Your GallerieHaue we pass'd through, not without much contentIn many singularities; but we saw notThat which my Daughter came to looke vpon,The Statue of her Mother
Paul. As she liu'd peerelesse,So her dead likenesse I doe well beleeueExcells what euer yet you look'd vpon,Or hand of Man hath done: therefore I keepe itLouely, apart. But here it is: prepareTo see the Life as liuely mock'd, as euerStill Sleepe mock'd Death: behold, and say 'tis well.I like your silence, it the more shewes-offYour wonder: but yet speake, first you (my Liege)Comes it not something neere?Leo. Her naturall Posture.Chide me (deare Stone) that I may say indeedThou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she,In thy not chiding: for she was as tenderAs Infancie, and Grace. But yet (Paulina)Hermione was not so much wrinckled, nothingSo aged as this seemes
Pol. Oh, not by much
Paul. So much the more our Caruers excellence,Which lets goe-by some sixteene yeeres, and makes herAs she liu'd now
Leo. As now she might haue done,So much to my good comfort, as it isNow piercing to my Soule. Oh, thus she stood,Euen with such Life of Maiestie (warme Life,As now it coldly stands) when first I woo'd her.I am asham'd: Do's not the Stone rebuke me,For being more Stone then it? Oh Royall Peece:There's Magick in thy Maiestie, which ha'sMy Euils coniur'd to remembrance; andFrom thy admiring Daughter tooke the Spirits,Standing like Stone with thee
Perd. And giue me leaue,And doe not say 'tis Superstition, thatI kneele, and then implore her Blessing. Lady,Deere Queene, that ended when I but began,Giue me that hand of yours, to kisse
Paul. O, patience:The Statue is but newly fix'd; the Colour'sNot dry
Cam. My Lord, your Sorrow was too sore lay'd-on,Which sixteene Winters cannot blow away,So many Summers dry: scarce any IoyDid euer so long liue; no Sorrow,But kill'd it selfe much sooner
Pol. Deere my Brother,Let him, that was the cause of this, haue powreTo take-off so much griefe from you, as heWill peece vp in himselfe
Paul. Indeed my Lord,If I had thought the sight of my poore ImageWould thus haue wrought you (for the Stone is mine)Il'd not haue shew'd it
Leo. Doe not draw the Curtaine
Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, least your FancieMay thinke anon, it moues
Leo. Let be, let be:Would I were dead, but that me thinkes alreadie.(What was he that did make it?) See (my Lord)Would you not deeme it breath'd? and that those veinesDid verily beare blood?Pol. 'Masterly done:The very Life seemes warme vpon her Lippe
Leo. The fixure of her Eye ha's motion in't,As we are mock'd with Art
Paul. Ile draw the Curtaine:My Lord's almost so farre transported, thatHee'le thinke anon it liues
Leo. Oh sweet Paulina,Make me to thinke so twentie yeeres together:No setled Sences of the World can matchThe pleasure of that madnesse. Let't alone
Paul. I am sorry (Sir) I haue thus farre stir'd you: butI could afflict you farther
Leo. Doe Paulina:For this Affliction ha's a taste as sweetAs any Cordiall comfort. Still me thinkesThere is an ayre comes from her. What fine ChizzellCould euer yet cut breath? Let no man mock me,For I will kisse her
Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare:The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet:You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owneWith Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine
Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres
Perd. So long could IStand-by, a looker-on
Paul. Either forbeare,Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue youFor more amazement: if you can behold it,Ile make the Statue moue indeed; descend,And take you by the hand: but then you'le thinke(Which I protest against) I am assistedBy wicked Powers
Leo. What you can make her doe,I am content to looke on: what to speake,I am content to heare: for 'tis as easieTo make her speake, as moue
Paul. It is requir'dYou doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still:On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull BusinesseI am about, let them depart
Leo. Proceed:No foot shall stirre
Paul. Musick; awake her: Strike:'Tis time: descend: be Stone no more: approach:Strike all that looke vpon with meruaile: Come:Ile fill your Graue vp: stirre: nay, come away:Bequeath to Death your numnesse: (for from him,Deare Life redeemes you) you perceiue she stirres:Start not: her Actions shall be holy, asYou heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her,Vntill you see her dye againe; for thenYou kill her double: Nay, present your Hand:When she was young, you woo'd her: now, in age,Is she become the Suitor?Leo. Oh, she's warme:If this be Magick, let it be an ArtLawfull as Eating
Pol. She embraces him
Cam. She hangs about his necke,If she pertaine to life, let her speake too
Pol. I, and make it manifest where she ha's liu'd,Or how stolne from the dead?Paul. That she is liuing,Were it but told you, should be hooted atLike an old Tale: but it appeares she liues,Though yet she speake not. Marke a little while:Please you to interpose (faire Madam) kneele,And pray your Mothers blessing: turne good Lady,Our Perdita is found
Her. You Gods looke downe,And from your sacred Viols poure your gracesVpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne)Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How foundThy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that IKnowing by Paulina, that the OracleGaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'dMy selfe, to see the yssue
Paul. There's time enough for that,Least they desire (vpon this push) to troubleYour ioyes, with like Relation. Go togetherYou precious winners all: your exultationPartake to euery one: I (an old Turtle)Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and thereMy Mate (that's neuer to be found againe)Lament, till I am lost
Leo. O peace Paulina:Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,As I by thine a Wife. This is a Match,And made betweene's by Vowes. Thou hast found mine,But how, is to be question'd: for I saw her(As I thought) dead: and haue (in vaine) said manyA prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre(For him, I partly know his minde) to finde theeAn honourable husband. Come Camillo,And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honestyIs richly noted: and heere iustifiedBy Vs, a paire of Kings. Let's from this place.What? looke vpon my Brother: both your pardons,That ere I put betweene your holy lookesMy ill suspition: This your Son-in-law,And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directingIs troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina,Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurelyEach one demand, and answere to his partPerform'd in this wide gap of Time, since firstWe were disseuer'd: Hastily lead away.
Exeunt.
The Names of the Actors.
Leontes, King of Sicillia.Mamillus, yong Prince of Sicillia.Camillo.Antigonus.Cleomines.Dion.FoureLords of Sicillia.Hermione, Queene to Leontes.Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.Paulina, wife to Antigonus.Emilia, a Lady.Polixenes, King of Bohemia.Florizell, Prince of Bohemia.Old Shepheard, reputed Father of Perdita.Clowne, his Sonne.Autolicus, a Rogue.Archidamus, a Lord of Bohemia.Other Lords, and Gentlemen, and Seruants.Shepheards, and Shephearddesses.
FINIS. The Winters Tale.
The life and death of King John
Actus Primus, Scaena Prima.
Enter King Iohn, Queene Elinor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury,with theChattylion of France.
King Iohn. Now say Chatillion, what would France with vs?Chat. Thus (after greeting) speakes the Kingof France,In my behauiour to the Maiesty,The borrowed Maiesty of England heere
Elea. A strange beginning: borrowed Maiesty?K.Iohn. Silence (good mother) heare the Embassie
Chat. Philip of France, in right and true behalfeOf thy deceased brother, Geffreyes sonne,Arthur Plantaginet, laies most lawfull claimeTo this faire Iland, and the Territories:To Ireland, Poyctiers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine,Desiring thee to lay aside the swordWhich swaies vsurpingly these seuerall titles,And put the same into yong Arthurs hand,Thy Nephew, and right royall Soueraigne
K.Iohn. What followes if we disallow of this?Chat. The proud controle of fierce and bloudy warre,To inforce these rights, so forcibly with-held,K.Io. Heere haue we war for war, & bloud for bloud,Controlement for controlement: so answer France
Chat. Then take my Kings defiance from my mouth,The farthest limit of my Embassie
K.Iohn. Beare mine to him, and so depart in peace,Be thou as lightning in the eies of France;For ere thou canst report, I will be there:The thunder of my Cannon shall be heard.So hence: be thou the trumpet of our wrath,And sullen presage of your owne decay:An honourable conduct let him haue,Pembroke looke too't: farewell Chattillion.
Exit Chat. and Pem.
Ele. What now my sonne, haue I not euer saidHow that ambitious Constance would not ceaseTill she had kindled France and all the world,Vpon the right and party of her sonne.This might haue beene preuented, and made wholeWith very easie arguments of loue,Which now the mannage of two kingdomes mustWith fearefull bloudy issue arbitrate
K.Iohn. Our strong possession, and our right for vs
Eli. Your strong possessio[n] much more then your right,Or else it must go wrong with you and me,So much my conscience whispers in your eare,Which none but heauen, and you, and I, shall heare.Enter a Sheriffe.
Essex. My Liege, here is the strangest controuersieCome from the Country to be iudg'd by youThat ere I heard: shall I produce the men?K.Iohn. Let them approach:Our Abbies and our Priories shall payThis expeditions charge: what men are you?Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.
Philip. Your faithfull subiect, I a gentleman,Borne in Northamptonshire, and eldest sonneAs I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge,A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-handOf Cordelion, Knighted in the field
K.Iohn. What art thou?Robert. The son and heire to that same Faulconbridge
K.Iohn. Is that the elder, and art thou the heyre?You came not of one mother then it seemes
Philip. Most certain of one mother, mighty King,That is well knowne, and as I thinke one father:But for the certaine knowledge of that truth,I put you o're to heauen, and to my mother;Of that I doubt, as all mens children may
Eli. Out on thee rude man, y dost shame thy mother,And wound her honor with this diffidence
Phil. I Madame? No, I haue no reason for it,That is my brothers plea, and none of mine,The which if he can proue, a pops me out,At least from faire fiue hundred pound a yeere:Heauen guard my mothers honor, and my Land
K.Iohn. A good blunt fellow: why being yonger bornDoth he lay claime to thine inheritance?Phil. I know not why, except to get the land:But once he slanderd me with bastardy:But where I be as true begot or no,That still I lay vpon my mothers head,But that I am as well begot my Liege(Faire fall the bones that tooke the paines for me)Compare our faces, and be Iudge your selfeIf old Sir Robert did beget vs both,And were our father, and this sonne like him:O old sir Robert Father, on my kneeI giue heauen thankes I was not like to thee
K.Iohn. Why what a mad-cap hath heauen lent vs here?Elen. He hath a tricke of Cordelions face,The accent of his tongue affecteth him:Doe you not read some tokens of my sonneIn the large composition of this man?K.Iohn. Mine eye hath well examined his parts,And findes them perfect Richard: sirra speake,What doth moue you to claime your brothers land
Philip. Because he hath a half-face like my father?With halfe that face would he haue all my land,A halfe-fac'd groat, fiue hundred pound a yeere?Rob. My gracious Liege, when that my father liu'd,Your brother did imploy my father much
Phil. Well sir, by this you cannot get my land,Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother
Rob. And once dispatch'd him in an EmbassieTo Germany, there with the EmperorTo treat of high affaires touching that time:Th' aduantage of his absence tooke the King,And in the meane time soiourn'd at my fathers;Where how he did preuaile, I shame to speake:But truth is truth, large lengths of seas and shoresBetweene my father, and my mother lay,As I haue heard my father speake himselfeWhen this same lusty gentleman was got:Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'dHis lands to me, and tooke it on his deathThat this my mothers sonne was none of his;And if he were, he came into the worldFull fourteene weekes before the course of time:Then good my Liedge let me haue what is mine,My fathers land, as was my fathers will
K.Iohn. Sirra, your brother is Legittimate,Your fathers wife did after wedlocke beare him:And if she did play false, the fault was hers,Which fault lyes on the hazards of all husbandsThat marry wiues: tell me, how if my brotherWho as you say, tooke paines to get this sonne,Had of your father claim'd this sonne for his,Insooth, good friend, your father might haue keptThis Calfe, bred from his Cow from all the world:Insooth he might: then if he were my brothers,My brother might not claime him, nor your fatherBeing none of his, refuse him: this concludes,My mothers sonne did get your fathers heyre,Your fathers heyre must haue your fathers land
Rob. Shal then my fathers Will be of no force,To dispossesse that childe which is not his
Phil. Of no more force to dispossesse me sir,Then was his will to get me, as I think
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge,And like thy brother to enioy thy land:Or the reputed sonne of Cordelion,Lord of thy presence, and no land beside
Bast. Madam, and if my brother had my shapeAnd I had his, sir Roberts his like him,And if my legs were two such riding rods,My armes, such eele skins stuft, my face so thin,That in mine eare I durst not sticke a rose,Lest men should say, looke where three farthings goes,And to his shape were heyre to all this land,Would I might neuer stirre from off this place,I would giue it euery foot to haue this face:It would not be sir nobbe in any case
Elinor. I like thee well: wilt thou forsake thy fortune,Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me?I am a Souldier, and now bound to France
Bast. Brother, take you my land, Ile take my chance;Your face hath got fiue hundred pound a yeere,Yet sell your face for fiue pence and 'tis deere:Madam, Ile follow you vnto the death
Elinor. Nay, I would haue you go before me thither
Bast. Our Country manners giue our betters way
K.Iohn. What is thy name?Bast. Philip my Liege, so is my name begun,Philip, good old Sir Roberts wiues eldest sonne
K.Iohn. From henceforth beare his nameWhose forme thou bearest:Kneele thou downe Philip, but rise more great,Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet
Bast. Brother by th' mothers side, giue me your hand,My father gaue me honor, yours gaue land:Now blessed be the houre by night or dayWhen I was got, Sir Robert was away
Ele. The very spirit of Plantaginet:I am thy grandame Richard, call me so
Bast. Madam by chance, but not by truth, what tho;Something about a little from the right,In at the window, or else ore the hatch:Who dares not stirre by day, must walke by night,And haue is haue, how euer men doe catch:Neere or farre off, well wonne is still well shot,And I am I, how ere I was begot
K.Iohn. Goe, Faulconbridge, now hast thou thy desire,A landlesse Knight, makes thee a landed Squire:Come Madam, and come Richard, we must speedFor France, for France, for it is more then need
Bast. Brother adieu, good fortune come to thee,For thou wast got i'th way of honesty.
Exeunt. all but bastard.
Bast. A foot of Honor better then I was,But many a many foot of Land the worse.Well, now can I make any Ioane a Lady,Good den Sir Richard, Godamercy fellow,And if his name be George, Ile call him Peter;For new made honor doth forget mens names:'Tis two respectiue, and too sociableFor your conuersion, now your traueller,Hee and his tooth-picke at my worships messe,And when my knightly stomacke is suffis'd,Why then I sucke my teeth, and catechizeMy picked man of Countries: my deare sir,Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin,I shall beseech you; that is question now,And then comes answer like an Absey booke:O sir, sayes answer, at your best command,At your employment, at your seruice sir:No sir, saies question, I sweet sir at yours,And so ere answer knowes what question would,Sauing in Dialogue of Complement,And talking of the Alpes and Appenines,The Perennean and the riuer Poe,It drawes toward supper in conclusion so.But this is worshipfull society,And fits the mounting spirit like my selfe;For he is but a bastard to the timeThat doth not smoake of obseruation,And so am I whether I smacke or no:And not alone in habit and deuice,Exterior forme, outward accoutrement;But from the inward motion to deliuerSweet, sweet, sweet poyson for the ages tooth,Which though I will not practice to deceiue,Yet to auoid deceit I meane to learne;For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising:But who comes in such haste in riding robes?What woman post is this? hath she no husbandThat will take paines to blow a horne before her?O me, 'tis my mother: how now good Lady,What brings you heere to Court so hastily?Enter Lady Faulconbridge and Iames Gurney.
Lady. Where is that slaue thy brother? where is he?That holds in chase mine honour vp and downe
Bast. My brother Robert, old Sir Roberts sonne:Colbrand the Gyant, that same mighty man,Is it Sir Roberts sonne that you seeke so?Lady. Sir Roberts sonne, I thou vnreuerend boy,Sir Roberts sonne? why scorn'st thou at sir Robert?He is Sir Roberts sonne, and so art thou
Bast. Iames Gournie, wilt thou giue vs leaue a while?Gour. Good leaue good Philip
Bast. Philip, sparrow, Iames,There's toyes abroad, anon Ile tell thee more.
Exit Iames.
Madam, I was not old Sir Roberts sonne,Sir Robert might haue eat his part in meVpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast:Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesseCould get me sir Robert could not doe it;We know his handy-worke, therefore good motherTo whom am I beholding for these limmes?Sir Robert neuer holpe to make this legge
Lady. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too,That for thine owne gaine shouldst defend mine honor?What meanes this scorne, thou most vntoward knaue?Bast. Knight, knight good mother, Basilisco-like:What, I am dub'd, I haue it on my shoulder:But mother, I am not Sir Roberts sonne,I haue disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land,Legitimation, name, and all is gone;Then good my mother, let me know my father,Some proper man I hope, who was it mother?Lady. Hast thou denied thy selfe a Faulconbridge?Bast. As faithfully as I denie the deuill
Lady. King Richard Cordelion was thy father,By long and vehement suit I was seduc'dTo make roome for him in my husbands bed:Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge,That art the issue of my deere offenceWhich was so strongly vrg'd past my defence
Bast. Now by this light were I to get againe,Madam I would not wish a better father:Some sinnes doe beare their priuiledge on earth,And so doth yours: your fault, was not your follie,Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,Subiected tribute to commanding loue,Against whose furie and vnmatched force,The awlesse Lion could not wage the fight,Nor keepe his Princely heart from Richards hand:He that perforce robs Lions of their hearts,May easily winne a womans: aye my mother,With all my heart I thanke thee for my father:Who liues and dares but say, thou didst not wellWhen I was got, Ile send his soule to hell.Come Lady I will shew thee to my kinne,And they shall say, when Richard me begot,If thou hadst sayd him nay, it had beene sinne;Who sayes it was, he lyes, I say twas not.
Exeunt.
Scaena Secunda.
Enter before Angiers, Philip King of France, Lewis, Daulphin,Austria,Constance, Arthur.
Lewis. Before Angiers well met braue Austria,Arthur that great fore-runner of thy bloud,Richard that rob'd the Lion of his heart,And fought the holy Warres in Palestine,By this braue Duke came early to his graue:And for amends to his posteritie,At our importance hether is he come,To spread his colours boy, in thy behalfe,And to rebuke the vsurpationOf thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn,Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether
Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions deathThe rather, that you giue his off-spring life,Shadowing their right vnder your wings of warre:I giue you welcome with a powerlesse hand,But with a heart full of vnstained loue,Welcome before the gates Angiers Duke
Lewis. A noble boy, who would not doe thee right?Aust. Vpon thy cheeke lay I this zelous kisse,As seale to this indenture of my loue:That to my home I will no more returneTill Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,Whose foot spurnes backe the Oceans roaring tides,And coopes from other lands her Ilanders,Euen till that England hedg'd in with the maine,That Water-walled Bulwarke, still secureAnd confident from forreine purposes,Euen till that vtmost corner of the WestSalute thee for her King, till then faire boyWill I not thinke of home, but follow Armes
Const. O take his mothers thanks, a widdows thanks,Till your strong hand shall helpe to giue him strength,To make a more requitall to your loue
Aust. The peace of heauen is theirs y lift their swordsIn such a iust and charitable warre
King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bentAgainst the browes of this resisting towne,Call for our cheefest men of discipline,To cull the plots of best aduantages:Wee'll lay before this towne our Royal bones,Wade to the market-place in French-mens bloud,But we will make it subiect to this boy
Con. Stay for an answer to your Embassie,Lest vnaduis'd you staine your swords with bloud,My Lord Chattilion may from England bringThat right in peace which heere we vrge in warre,And then we shall repent each drop of bloud,That hot rash haste so indirectly shedde.Enter Chattilion.
King. A wonder Lady: lo vpon thy wishOur Messenger Chattilion is arriu'd,What England saies, say breefely gentle Lord,We coldly pause for thee, Chatilion speake,Chat. Then turne your forces from this paltry siege,And stirre them vp against a mightier taske:England impatient of your iust demands,Hath put himselfe in Armes, the aduerse windesWhose leisure I haue staid, haue giuen him timeTo land his Legions all as soone as I:His marches are expedient to this towne,His forces strong, his Souldiers confident:With him along is come the Mother Queene,An Ace stirring him to bloud and strife,With her her Neece, the Lady Blanch of Spaine,With them a Bastard of the Kings deceast,And all th' vnsetled humors of the Land,Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,With Ladies faces, and fierce Dragons spleenes,Haue sold their fortunes at their natiue homes,Bearing their birth-rights proudly on their backs,To make a hazard of new fortunes heere:In briefe, a brauer choyse of dauntlesse spiritsThen now the English bottomes haue waft o're,Did neuer flote vpon the swelling tide,To doe offence and scathe in Christendome:The interruption of their churlish drumsCuts off more circumstance, they are at hand,
Drum beats.
To parlie or to fight, therefore prepare
Kin. How much vnlook'd for, is this expedition
Aust. By how much vnexpected, by so muchWe must awake indeuor for defence,For courage mounteth with occasion,Let them be welcome then, we are prepar'd.Enter K[ing]. of England, Bastard, Queene, Blanch, Pembroke, andothers.
K.Iohn. Peace be to France: If France in peace permitOur iust and lineall entrance to our owne;If not, bleede France, and peace ascend to heauen.Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correctTheir proud contempt that beats his peace to heauen
Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returneFrom France to England, there to liue in peace:England we loue, and for that Englands sake,With burden of our armor heere we sweat:This toyle of ours should be a worke of thine;But thou from louing England art so farre,That thou hast vnder-wrought his lawfull King,Cut off the sequence of posterity,Out-faced Infant State, and done a rapeVpon the maiden vertue of the Crowne:Looke heere vpon thy brother Geffreyes face,These eyes, these browes, were moulded out of his;This little abstract doth containe that large,Which died in Geffrey: and the hand of time,Shall draw this breefe into as huge a volume:That Geffrey was thy elder brother borne,And this his sonne, England was Geffreys right,And this is Geffreyes in the name of God:How comes it then that thou art call'd a King,When liuing blood doth in these temples beatWhich owe the crowne, that thou ore-masterest?K.Iohn. From whom hast thou this great commission France,To draw my answer from thy Articles?Fra. Fro[m] that supernal Iudge that stirs good thoughtsIn any breast of strong authoritie,To looke into the blots and staines of right,That Iudge hath made me guardian to this boy,Vnder whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,And by whose helpe I meane to chastise it
K.Iohn. Alack thou dost vsurpe authoritie
Fran. Excuse it is to beat vsurping downe
Queen. Who is it thou dost call vsurper France?Const. Let me make answer: thy vsurping sonne
Queen. Out insolent, thy bastard shall be King,That thou maist be a Queen, and checke the world
Con. My bed was euer to thy sonne as trueAs thine was to thy husband, and this boyLiker in feature to his father GeffreyThen thou and Iohn, in manners being as like,As raine to water, or deuill to his damme;My boy a bastard? by my soule I thinkeHis father neuer was so true begot,It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother
Queen. Theres a good mother boy, that blots thy fatherConst. There's a good grandame boyThat would blot thee
Aust. Peace
Bast. Heare the Cryer
Aust. What the deuill art thou?Bast. One that wil play the deuill sir with you,And a may catch your hide and you alone:You are the Hare of whom the Prouerb goesWhose valour plucks dead Lyons by the beard;Ile smoake your skin-coat and I catch you right,Sirra looke too't, yfaith I will, yfaith
Blan. O well did he become that Lyons robe,That did disrobe the Lion of that robe
Bast. It lies as sightly on the backe of himAs great Alcides shooes vpon an Asse:But Asse, Ile take that burthen from your backe,Or lay on that shall make your shoulders cracke
Aust. What cracker is this same that deafes our earesWith this abundance of superfluous breath?King Lewis, determine what we shall doe strait
Lew. Women & fooles, breake off your conference.King Iohn, this is the very summe of all:England and Ireland, Angiers, Toraine, Maine,In right of Arthur doe I claime of thee:Wilt thou resigne them, and lay downe thy Armes?Iohn. My life as soone: I doe defie thee France,Arthur of Britaine, yeeld thee to my hand,And out of my deere loue Ile giue thee more,Then ere the coward hand of France can win;Submit thee boy
Queen. Come to thy grandame child
Cons. Doe childe, goe to yt grandame childe,Giue grandame kingdome, and it grandame willGiue yt a plum, a cherry, and a figge,There's a good grandame
Arthur. Good my mother peace,I would that I were low laid in my graue,I am not worth this coyle that's made for me
Qu.Mo. His mother shames him so, poore boy hee weepes
Con. Now shame vpon you where she does or no,His grandames wrongs, and not his mothers shamesDrawes those heauen-mouing pearles fro[m] his poor eies,Which heauen shall take in nature of a fee:I, with these Christall beads heauen shall be brib'dTo doe him Iustice, and reuenge on you
Qu. Thou monstrous slanderer of heauen and earth
Con. Thou monstrous Iniurer of heauen and earth,Call not me slanderer, thou and thine vsurpeThe Dominations, Royalties, and rightsOf this oppressed boy; this is thy eldest sonnes sonne,Infortunate in nothing but in thee:Thy sinnes are visited in this poore childe,The Canon of the Law is laide on him,Being but the second generationRemoued from thy sinne-conceiuing wombe
Iohn. Bedlam haue done
Con. I haue but this to say,That he is not onely plagued for her sin,But God hath made her sinne and her, the plagueOn this remoued issue, plagued for her,And with her plague her sinne: his iniuryHer iniurie the Beadle to her sinne,All punish'd in the person of this childe,And all for her, a plague vpon her
Que. Thou vnaduised scold, I can produceA Will, that barres the title of thy sonne
Con. I who doubts that, a Will: a wicked will,A womans will, a cankred Grandams will
Fra. Peace Lady, pause, or be more temperate,It ill beseemes this presence to cry aymeTo these ill-tuned repetitions:Some Trumpet summon hither to the wallesThese men of Angiers, let vs heare them speake,Whose title they admit, Arthurs or Iohns.
Trumpet sounds. Enter a Citizen vpon the walles.
Cit. Who is it that hath warn'd vs to the walles?Fra. 'Tis France, for England
Iohn. England for it selfe:You men of Angiers, and my louing subiects
Fra. You louing men of Angiers, Arthurs subiects,Our Trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle
Iohn. For our aduantage, therefore heare vs first:These flagges of France that are aduanced heereBefore the eye and prospect of your Towne,Haue hither march'd to your endamagement.The Canons haue their bowels full of wrath,And ready mounted are they to spit forthTheir Iron indignation 'gainst your walles:All preparation for a bloody siedgeAnd merciles proceeding, by these French.Comfort your Citties eies, your winking gates:And but for our approch, those sleeping stones,That as a waste doth girdle you aboutBy the compulsion of their Ordinance,By this time from their fixed beds of limeHad bin dishabited, and wide hauocke madeFor bloody power to rush vppon your peace.But on the sight of vs your lawfull King,Who painefully with much expedient marchHaue brought a counter-checke before your gates,To saue vnscratch'd your Citties threatned cheekes:Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle,And now insteed of bulletts wrapt in fireTo make a shaking feuer in your walles,They shoote but calme words, folded vp in smoake,To make a faithlesse errour in your eares,Which trust accordingly kinde Cittizens,And let vs in. Your King, whose labour'd spiritsFore-wearied in this action of swift speede,Craues harbourage within your Citie walles
France. When I haue saide, make answer to vs both.Loe in this right hand, whose protectionIs most diuinely vow'd vpon the rightOf him it holds, stands yong Plantagenet,Sonne to the elder brother of this man,And King ore him, and all that he enioyes:For this downe-troden equity, we treadIn warlike march, these greenes before your Towne,Being no further enemy to youThen the constraint of hospitable zeale,In the releefe of this oppressed childe,Religiously prouokes. Be pleased thenTo pay that dutie which you truly owe,To him that owes it, namely, this yong Prince,And then our Armes, like to a muzled Beare,Saue in aspect, hath all offence seal'd vp:Our Cannons malice vainly shall be spentAgainst th' involnerable clouds of heauen,And with a blessed and vn-vext retyre,With vnhack'd swords, and Helmets all vnbruis'd,We will beare home that lustie blood againe,Which heere we came to spout against your Towne,And leaue your children, wiues, and you in peace.But if you fondly passe our proffer'd offer,'Tis not the rounder of your old-fac'd walles,Can hide you from our messengers of Warre,Though all these English, and their disciplineWere harbour'd in their rude circumference:Then tell vs, Shall your Citie call vs Lord,In that behalfe which we haue challeng'd it?Or shall we giue the signall to our rage,And stalke in blood to our possession?Cit. In breefe, we are the King of Englands subiectsFor him, and in his right, we hold this Towne
Iohn. Acknowledge then the King, and let me in
Cit. That can we not: but he that proues the KingTo him will we proue loyall, till that timeHaue we ramm'd vp our gates against the world
Iohn. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue theKing?And if not that, I bring you WitnessesTwice fifteene thousand hearts of Englands breed
Bast. Bastards and else
Iohn. To verifie our title with their liues
Fran. As many and as well-borne bloods as those
Bast. Some Bastards too
Fran. Stand in his face to contradict his claime
Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,We for the worthiest hold the right from both
Iohn. Then God forgiue the sinne of all those soules,That to their euerlasting residence,Before the dew of euening fall, shall fleeteIn dreadfull triall of our kingdomes King
Fran. Amen, Amen, mount Cheualiers to Armes
Bast. Saint George that swindg'd the Dragon,And ere since sit's on's horsebacke at mine Hostesse doreTeach vs some sence. Sirrah, were I at homeAt your den sirrah, with your Lionnesse,I would set an Oxe-head to your Lyons hide:And make a monster of you
Aust. Peace, no more
Bast. O tremble: for you heare the Lyon rore
Iohn. Vp higher to the plaine, where we'l set forthIn best appointment all our Regiments
Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the field
Fra. It shall be so, and at the other hillCommand the rest to stand, God and our right.
Exeunt.
Heere after excursions, Enter the Herald of France with Trumpets to the gates.
F.Her. You men of Angiers open wide your gates,And let yong Arthur Duke of Britaine in,Who by the hand of France, this day hath madeMuch worke for teares in many an English mother,Whose sonnes lye scattered on the bleeding ground:Many a widdowes husband groueling lies,Coldly embracing the discoloured earth,And victorie with little losse doth playVpon the dancing banners of the French,Who are at hand triumphantly displayedTo enter Conquerors, and to proclaimeArthur of Britaine, Englands King, and yours.Enter English Herald with Trumpet.
E.Har. Reioyce you men of Angiers, ring your bels,King Iohn, your king and Englands, doth approach,Commander of this hot malicious day,Their Armours that march'd hence so siluer bright,Hither returne all gilt with Frenchmens blood:There stucke no plume in any English Crest,That is remoued by a staffe of France.Our colours do returne in those same handsThat did display them when we first marcht forth:And like a iolly troope of Huntsmen comeOur lustie English, all with purpled hands,Dide in the dying slaughter of their foes,Open your gates, and giue the Victors way
Hubert. Heralds, from off our towres we might beholdFrom first to last, the on-set and retyre:Of both your Armies, whose equalityBy our best eyes cannot be censured:Blood hath bought blood, and blowes haue answerd blowes:Strength matcht with strength, and power confrontedpower,Both are alike, and both alike we like:One must proue greatest. While they weigh so euen,We hold our Towne for neither: yet for both.Enter the two Kings with their powers, at seuerall doores.
Iohn. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?Say, shall the currant of our right rome on,Whose passage vext with thy impediment,Shall leaue his natiue channell, and ore-swellWith course disturb'd euen thy confining shores,Vnlesse thou let his siluer Water, keepeA peacefull progresse to the Ocean
Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of bloodIn this hot triall more then we of France,Rather lost more. And by this hand I sweareThat swayes the earth this Climate ouer-lookes,Before we will lay downe our iust-borne Armes,Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainst whom these Armes wee beare,Or adde a royall number to the dead:Gracing the scroule that tels of this warres losse,With slaughter coupled to the name of kings
Bast. Ha Maiesty: how high thy glory towres,When the rich blood of kings is set on fire:Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with steele,The swords of souldiers are his teeth, his phangs,And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of menIn vndetermin'd differences of kings.Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus:Cry hauocke kings, backe to the stained fieldYou equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits,Then let confusion of one part confirmThe others peace: till then, blowes, blood, and death
Iohn. Whose party do the Townesmen yet admit?Fra. Speake Citizens for England, whose your king
Hub. The king of England, when we know the king
Fra. Know him in vs, that heere hold vp his right
Iohn. In Vs, that are our owne great Deputie,And beare possession of our Person heere,Lord of our presence Angiers, and of you
Fra. A greater powre then We denies all this,And till it be vndoubted, we do lockeOur former scruple in our strong barr'd gates:Kings of our feare, vntill our feares resolu'dBe by some certaine king, purg'd and depos'd
Bast. By heauen, these scroyles of Angiers flout you kings,And stand securely on their battelments,As in a Theater, whence they gape and pointAt your industrious Scenes and acts of death.Your Royall presences be rul'd by mee,Do like the Mutines of Ierusalem,Be friends a-while, and both conioyntly bendYour sharpest Deeds of malice on this Towne.By East and West let France and England mount.Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes,Till their soule-fearing clamours haue braul'd downeThe flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie,I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades,Euen till vnfenced desolationLeaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre:That done, disseuer your vnited strengths,And part your mingled colours once againe,Turne face to face, and bloody point to point:Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forthOut of one side her happy Minion,To whom in fauour she shall giue the day,And kisse him with a glorious victory:How like you this wilde counsell mighty States,Smackes it not something of the policie
Iohn. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads,I like it well. France, shall we knit our powres,And lay this Angiers euen with the ground,Then after fight who shall be king of it?Bast. And if thou hast the mettle of a king,Being wrong'd as we are by this peeuish Towne:Turne thou the mouth of thy Artillerie,As we will ours, against these sawcie walles,And when that we haue dash'd them to the ground,Why then defie each other, and pell-mell,Make worke vpon our selues, for heauen or hell
Fra. Let it be so: say, where will you assault?Iohn. We from the West will send destructionInto this Cities bosome
Aust. I from the North
Fran. Our Thunder from the South,Shall raine their drift of bullets on this Towne
Bast. O prudent discipline! From North to South:Austria and France shoot in each others mouth.Ile stirre them to it: Come, away, away
Hub. Heare vs great kings, vouchsafe awhile to stayAnd I shall shew you peace, and faire-fac'd league:Win you this Citie without stroke, or wound,Rescue those breathing liues to dye in beds,That heere come sacrifices for the field.Perseuer not, but heare me mighty kings
Iohn. Speake on with fauour, we are bent to heare
Hub. That daughter there of Spaine, the Lady BlanchIs neere to England, looke vpon the yeeresOf Lewes the Dolphin, and that louely maid.If lustie loue should go in quest of beautie,Where should he finde it fairer, then in Blanch:If zealous loue should go in search of vertue,Where should he finde it purer then in Blanch?If loue ambitious, sought a match of birth,Whose veines bound richer blood then Lady Blanch?Such as she is, in beautie, vertue, birth,Is the yong Dolphin euery way compleat,If not compleat of, say he is not shee,And she againe wants nothing, to name want,If want it be not, that she is not hee.He is the halfe part of a blessed man,Left to be finished by such as shee,And she a faire diuided excellence,Whose fulnesse of perfection lyes in him.O two such siluer currents when they ioyneDo glorifie the bankes that bound them in:And two such shores, to two such streames made one,Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,To these two Princes, if you marrie them:This Vnion shall do more then batterie canTo our fast closed gates: for at this match,With swifter spleene then powder can enforceThe mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,And giue you entrance: but without this match,The sea enraged is not halfe so deafe,Lyons more confident, Mountaines and rockesMore free from motion, no not death himselfeIn mortall furie halfe so peremptorie,As we to keepe this Citie
Bast. Heeres a stay,That shakes the rotten carkasse of old deathOut of his ragges. Here's a large mouth indeede,That spits forth death, and mountaines, rockes, and seas,Talkes as familiarly of roaring Lyons,As maids of thirteene do of puppi-dogges.What Cannoneere begot this lustie blood,He speakes plaine Cannon fire, and smoake, and bounce,He giues the bastinado with his tongue:Our eares are cudgel'd, not a word of hisBut buffets better then a fist of France:Zounds, I was neuer so bethumpt with words,Since I first cal'd my brothers father Dad
Old Qu. Son, list to this coniunction, make this matchGiue with our Neece a dowrie large enough,For by this knot, thou shalt so surely tyeThy now vnsur'd assurance to the Crowne,That yon greene boy shall haue no Sunne to ripeThe bloome that promiseth a mightie fruite.I see a yeelding in the lookes of France:Marke how they whisper, vrge them while their soulesAre capeable of this ambition,Least zeale now melted by the windie breathOf soft petitions, pittie and remorse,Coole and congeale againe to what it was
Hub. Why answer not the double Maiesties,This friendly treatie of our threatned Towne
Fra. Speake England first, that hath bin forward firstTo speake vnto this Cittie: what say you?Iohn. If that the Dolphin there thy Princely sonne,Can in this booke of beautie read, I loue:Her Dowrie shall weigh equall with a Queene:For Angiers, and faire Toraine Maine, Poyctiers,And all that we vpon this side the Sea,(Except this Cittie now by vs besiedg'd)Finde liable to our Crowne and Dignitie,Shall gild her bridall bed and make her richIn titles, honors, and promotions,As she in beautie, education, blood,Holdes hand with any Princesse of the world
Fra. What sai'st thou boy? looke in the Ladies face
Dol. I do my Lord, and in her eie I findA wonder, or a wondrous miracle,The shadow of my selfe form'd in her eye,Which being but the shadow of your sonne,Becomes a sonne and makes your sonne a shadow:I do protest I neuer lou'd my selfeTill now, infixed I beheld my selfe,Drawne in the flattering table of her eie.
Whispers with Blanch.
Bast. Drawne in the flattering table of her eie,Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,And quarter'd in her heart, hee doth espieHimselfe loues traytor, this is pittie now;That hang'd, and drawne, and quarter'd there should beIn such a loue, so vile a Lout as he
Blan. My vnckles will in this respect is mine,If he see ought in you that makes him like,That any thing he see's which moues his liking,I can with ease translate it to my will:Or if you will, to speake more properly,I will enforce it easlie to my loue.Further I will not flatter you, my Lord,That all I see in you is worthie loue,Then this, that nothing do I see in you,Though churlish thoughts themselues should bee yourIudge,That I can finde, should merit any hate
Iohn. What saie these yong-ones? What say you myNeece?Blan. That she is bound in honor still to doWhat you in wisedome still vouchsafe to say
Iohn. Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue thisLadie?Dol. Nay aske me if I can refraine from loue,For I doe loue her most vnfainedly
Iohn. Then I doe giue Volquessen, Toraine, Maine,Poyctiers and Aniow, these fiue ProuincesWith her to thee, and this addition more,Full thirty thousand Markes of English coyne:Phillip of France, if thou be pleas'd withall,Command thy sonne and daughter to ioyne hands
Fra. It likes vs well young Princes: close your handsAust. And your lippes too, for I am well assur'd,That I did so when I was first assur'd
Fra. Now Cittizens of Angires ope your gates,Let in that amitie which you haue made,For at Saint Maries Chappell presently,The rights of marriage shallbe solemniz'd.Is not the Ladie Constance in this troope?I know she is not for this match made vp,Her presence would haue interrupted much.Where is she and her sonne, tell me, who knowes?Dol. She is sad and passionate at your highnes Tent
Fra. And by my faith, this league that we haue madeWill giue her sadnesse very little cure:Brother of England, how may we contentThis widdow Lady? In her right we came,Which we God knowes, haue turn'd another way,To our owne vantage
Iohn. We will heale vp all,For wee'l create yong Arthur Duke of BritaineAnd Earle of Richmond, and this rich faire TowneWe make him Lord of. Call the Lady Constance,Some speedy Messenger bid her repaireTo our solemnity: I trust we shall,(If not fill vp the measure of her will)Yet in some measure satisfie her so,That we shall stop her exclamation,Go we as well as hast will suffer vs,To this vnlook'd for vnprepared pompe.
Exeunt.
Bast. Mad world, mad kings, mad composition:Iohn to stop Arthurs Title in the whole,Hath willingly departed with a part,And France, whose armour Conscience buckled on,Whom zeale and charitie brought to the field,As Gods owne souldier, rounded in the eare,With that same purpose-changer, that slye diuel,That Broker, that still breakes the pate of faith,That dayly breake-vow, he that winnes of all,Of kings, of beggers, old men, yong men, maids,Who hauing no externall thing to loose,But the word Maid, cheats the poore Maide of that.That smooth-fac'd Gentleman, tickling commoditie,Commoditie, the byas of the world,The world, who of it selfe is peysed well,Made to run euen, vpon euen ground;Till this aduantage, this vile drawing byas,This sway of motion, this commoditie,Makes it take head from all indifferency,From all direction, purpose, course, intent.And this same byas, this Commoditie,This Bawd, this Broker, this all-changing-word,Clap'd on the outward eye of fickle France,Hath drawne him from his owne determin'd ayd,From a resolu'd and honourable warre,To a most base and vile-concluded peace.And why rayle I on this Commoditie?But for because he hath not wooed me yet:Not that I haue the power to clutch my hand,When his faire Angels would salute my palme,But for my hand, as vnattempted yet,Like a poore begger, raileth on the rich.Well, whiles I am a begger, I will raile,And say there is no sin but to be rich:And being rich, my vertue then shall be,To say there is no vice, but beggerie:Since Kings breake faith vpon commoditie,Gaine be my Lord, for I will worship thee.Enter.
Actus Secundus
Enter Constance, Arthur, and Salisbury.
Con. Gone to be married? Gone to sweare a peace?False blood to false blood ioyn'd. Gone to be freinds?Shall Lewis haue Blaunch, and Blaunch those Prouinces?It is not so, thou hast mispoke, misheard,Be well aduis'd, tell ore thy tale againe.It cannot be, thou do'st but say 'tis so.I trust I may not trust thee, for thy wordIs but the vaine breath of a common man:Beleeue me, I doe not beleeue thee man,I haue a Kings oath to the contrarie.Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,For I am sicke, and capeable of feares,Opprest with wrongs, and therefore full of feares,A widdow, husbandles, subiect to feares,A woman naturally borne to feares;And though thou now confesse thou didst but iestWith my vext spirits, I cannot take a Truce,But they will quake and tremble all this day.What dost thou meane by shaking of thy head?Why dost thou looke so sadly on my sonne?What meanes that hand vpon that breast of thine?Why holdes thine eie that lamentable rhewme,Like a proud riuer peering ore his bounds?Be these sad signes confirmers of thy words?Then speake againe, not all thy former tale,But this one word, whether thy tale be true
Sal. As true as I beleeue you thinke them false,That giue you cause to proue my saying true
Con. Oh if thou teach me to beleeue this sorrow,Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me dye,And let beleefe, and life encounter so,As doth the furie of two desperate men,Which in the very meeting fall, and dye.Lewes marry Blaunch? O boy, then where art thou?France friend with England, what becomes of me?Fellow be gone: I cannot brooke thy sight,This newes hath made thee a most vgly man
Sal. What other harme haue I good Lady done,But spoke the harme, that is by others done?Con. Which harme within it selfe so heynous is,As it makes harmefull all that speake of it
Ar. I do beseech you Madam be content
Con. If thou that bidst me be content, wert grimVgly, and slandrous to thy Mothers wombe,Full of vnpleasing blots, and sightlesse staines,Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,Patch'd with foule Moles, and eye-offending markes,I would not care, I then would be content,For then I should not loue thee: no, nor thouBecome thy great birth, nor deserue a Crowne.But thou art faire, and at thy birth (deere boy)Nature and Fortune ioyn'd to make thee great.Of Natures guifts, thou mayst with Lillies boast,And with the halfe-blowne Rose. But Fortune, oh,She is corrupted, chang'd, and wonne from thee,Sh' adulterates hourely with thine Vnckle Iohn,And with her golden hand hath pluckt on FranceTo tread downe faire respect of Soueraigntie,And made his Maiestie the bawd to theirs.France is a Bawd to Fortune, and king Iohn,That strumpet Fortune, that vsurping Iohn:Tell me thou fellow, is not France forsworne?Envenom him with words, or get thee gone,And leaue those woes alone, which I aloneAm bound to vnder-beare
Sal. Pardon me Madam,I may not goe without you to the kings
Con. Thou maist, thou shalt, I will not go with thee,I will instruct my sorrowes to bee proud,For greefe is proud, and makes his owner stoope,To me and to the state of my great greefe,Lets kings assemble: for my greefe's so great,That no supporter but the huge firme earthCan hold it vp: here I and sorrowes sit,Heere is my Throne bid kings come bow to it.
Actus Tertius, Scaena prima.
Enter King Iohn, France, Dolphin, Blanch, Elianor, Philip, Austria,Constance.