K. JOHN.

England for itself.

You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects –

K. PHI.

You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects,

Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle –

K. JOHN.

For our advantage – therefore hear us first:

These flags of France, that are advanced here

Before the eye and prospect of your town,

Have hither march'd to your endamagement.

The cannons have their bowels full of wrath,

And ready mounted are they to spit forth

Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls;

All preparation for a bloody siege

And merciless proceeding by these French

[Confronts your] city's eyes, your winking gates;

And but for our approach those sleeping stones,

That as a waist doth girdle you about,

By the compulsion of their ordinance

By this time from their fixed beds of lime

Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made

For bloody power to rush upon your peace.

But on the sight of us, your lawful King,

Who painfully with much expedient march

Have brought a countercheck before your gates,

To save unscratch'd your city's threat'ned cheeks,

Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle,

And now instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,

To make a shaking fever in your walls,

They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke,

To make a faithless error in your ears;

Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,

And let us in – your King, whose labor'd spirits,

Forewearied in this action of swift speed,

Craves harborage within your city walls.

K. PHI.

When I have said, make answer to us both.

Lo in this right hand, whose protection

Is most divinely vow'd upon the right

Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,

Son to the elder brother of this man,

And king o'er him and all that he enjoys.

For this down-trodden equity, we tread

In warlike march these greens before your town,

Being no further enemy to you

Than the constraint of hospitable zeal

In the relief of this oppressed child

Religiously provokes. Be pleased then

To pay that duty which you truly owe

To him that owes it, namely this young prince,

And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,

Save in aspect, hath all offense seal'd up;

Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent

Against th' [invulnerable] clouds of heaven,

And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,

With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd,

We will bear home that lusty blood again

Which here we came to spout against your town,

And leave your children, wives, and you in peace.

But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,

'Tis not the rounder of your old-fac'd walls

Can hide you from our messengers of war,

Though all these English and their discipline

Were harbor'd in their rude circumference.

Then tell us, shall your city call us lord,

In that behalf which we have challeng'd it?

Or shall we give the signal to our rage,

And stalk in blood to our possession?

[HUB.]

In brief, we are the King of England's subjects:

For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

K. JOHN.

Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.

[HUB.]

That can we not; but he that proves the King,

To him will we prove loyal. Till that time

Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world.

K. JOHN.

Doth not the crown of England prove the King?

And if not that, I bring you witnesses,

Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed –

BAST.

Bastards, and else.

K. JOHN.

To verify our title with their lives.

K. PHI.

As many and as well-born bloods as those –

BAST.

Some bastards too.

K. PHI.

Stand in his face to contradict his claim.

[HUB.]

Till you compound whose right is worthiest,

We for the worthiest hold the right from both.

K. JOHN.

Then God forgive the sin of all those souls

That to their everlasting residence,

Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet

In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

K. PHI.

Amen, amen! Mount, chevaliers! To arms!

BAST.

Saint George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since

Sits on 's horseback at mine hostess' door,

Teach us some fence!

 

[To Austria.]

 

Sirrah, were I at home,

At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,

I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide,

And make a monster of you.

AUST.

Peace, no more.

BAST.

O, tremble! for you hear the lion roar.

K. JOHN.

Up higher to the plain, where we'll set forth

In best appointment all our regiments.

BAST.

Speed then to take advantage of the field.

K. PHI.

It shall be so, and at the other hill

Command the rest to stand. God and our right!

 

Exeunt. [Hubert and Citizens remain above.]

 

Here, after excursions, enter the Herald of France with Trumpets to the gates.

F. HER.

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,

And let young Arthur Duke of Britain in,

Who by the hand of France this day hath made

Much work for tears in many an English mother,

Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground.

Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,

Coldly embracing the discolored earth,

And victory with little loss doth play

Upon the dancing banners of the French,

Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,

To enter conquerors, and to proclaim

Arthur of Britain England's King and yours.

 

Enter English Herald with Trumpet.

 

E. HER.

Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells,

King John, your King and England's, doth approach,

Commander of this hot malicious day.

Their armors, that march'd hence so silver-bright,

Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood.

There stuck no plume in any English crest

That is removed by a staff of France;

Our colors do return in those same hands

That did display them when we first march'd forth;

And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come

Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,

Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes.

Open your gates and give the victors way.

HUB.

Heralds, from off our tow'rs we might behold,

From first to last, the onset and retire

Of both your armies, whose equality

By our best eyes cannot be censured.

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

Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power:

Both are alike, and both alike we like.

One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even,

We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

 

Enter the two Kings with their powers at several doors.

 

K. JOHN.

France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?

Say, shall the current of our right roam on?

Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,

Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell

With course disturb'd even thy confining shores,

Unless thou let his silver water keep

A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. PHI.

England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood

In this hot trial more than we of France,

Rather lost more. And by this hand I swear,

That sways the earth this climate overlooks,

Before we will lay down our just-borne arms

We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we bear,

Or add a royal number to the dead,

Gracing the scroll that tells of this war's loss

With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

BAST.

Ha, majesty! how high thy glory tow'rs

When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!

O now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel,

The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs,

And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,

In undetermin'd differences of kings.

Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?

Cry »havoc,« kings! back to the stained field,

You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits!

Then let confusion of one part confirm

The other's peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death!

K. JOHN.

Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

K. PHI.

Speak, citizens, for England. Who's your king?

HUB.

The King of England, when we know the King.

K. PHI.

Know him in us, that here hold up his right.

K.