Paul. Good my Lord, forbeare: The ruddinesse vpon her Lippe, is wet: You'le marre it, if you kisse it; stayne your owne With Oyly Painting: shall I draw the Curtaine

Leo. No: not these twentie yeeres

Perd. So long could I Stand-by, a looker-on

Paul. Either forbeare, Quit presently the Chappell, or resolue you For 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 assisted By 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 easie To make her speake, as moue

Paul. It is requir'd You doe awake your Faith: then, all stand still: On: those that thinke it is vnlawfull Businesse I 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, as You heare my Spell is lawfull: doe not shun her, Vntill you see her dye againe; for then You 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 Art Lawfull 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 at Like 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 graces Vpon my daughters head: Tell me (mine owne) Where hast thou bin preseru'd? Where liu'd? How found Thy Fathers Court? For thou shalt heare that I Knowing by Paulina, that the Oracle Gaue hope thou wast in being, haue preseru'd My selfe, to see the yssue

Paul. There's time enough for that, Least they desire (vpon this push) to trouble Your ioyes, with like Relation. Go together You precious winners all: your exultation Partake to euery one: I (an old Turtle) Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there My 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 many A prayer vpon her graue. Ile not seeke farre (For him, I partly know his minde) to finde thee An honourable husband. Come Camillo, And take her by the hand: whose worth, and honesty Is richly noted: and heere iustified By 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 lookes My ill suspition: This your Son-in-law, And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Leade vs from hence, where we may leysurely Each one demand, and answere to his part Perform'd in this wide gap of Time, since first We 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. Foure Lords 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 the Chattylion of France.

King Iohn. Now say Chatillion, what would France with vs? Chat. Thus (after greeting) speakes the King of 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 behalfe Of thy deceased brother, Geffreyes sonne, Arthur Plantaginet, laies most lawfull claime To this faire Iland, and the Territories: To Ireland, Poyctiers, Aniowe, Torayne, Maine, Desiring thee to lay aside the sword Which 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 said How that ambitious Constance would not cease Till she had kindled France and all the world, Vpon the right and party of her sonne. This might haue beene preuented, and made whole With very easie arguments of loue, Which now the mannage of two kingdomes must With 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 controuersie Come from the Country to be iudg'd by you That ere I heard: shall I produce the men? K.Iohn. Let them approach: Our Abbies and our Priories shall pay This expeditions charge: what men are you? Enter Robert Faulconbridge, and Philip.

Philip. Your faithfull subiect, I a gentleman, Borne in Northamptonshire, and eldest sonne As I suppose, to Robert Faulconbridge, A Souldier by the Honor-giuing-hand Of 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 born Doth 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 selfe If old Sir Robert did beget vs both, And were our father, and this sonne like him: O old sir Robert Father, on my knee I 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 sonne In 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 Embassie To Germany, there with the Emperor To 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 shores Betweene my father, and my mother lay, As I haue heard my father speake himselfe When this same lusty gentleman was got: Vpon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd His lands to me, and tooke it on his death That this my mothers sonne was none of his; And if he were, he came into the world Full 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 husbands That marry wiues: tell me, how if my brother Who 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 kept This 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 father Being 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 shape And 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 name Whose 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 day When 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 speed For 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 sociable For 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 catechize My 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 time That 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 deliuer Sweet, 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 husband That 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 me Vpon good Friday, and nere broke his fast: Sir Robert could doe well, marrie to confesse Could get me sir Robert could not doe it; We know his handy-worke, therefore good mother To 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'd To make roome for him in my husbands bed: Heauen lay not my transgression to my charge, That art the issue of my deere offence Which 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 well When 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 vsurpation Of thy vnnaturall Vncle, English Iohn, Embrace him, loue him, giue him welcome hether

Arth. God shall forgiue you Cordelions death The 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 returne Till 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 secure And confident from forreine purposes, Euen till that vtmost corner of the West Salute thee for her King, till then faire boy Will 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 swords In such a iust and charitable warre

King. Well, then to worke our Cannon shall be bent Against 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 bring That 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 wish Our 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 windes Whose leisure I haue staid, haue giuen him time To 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 spirits Then 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 drums Cuts 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 much We 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, and others.

K.Iohn. Peace be to France: If France in peace permit Our iust and lineall entrance to our owne; If not, bleede France, and peace ascend to heauen. Whiles we Gods wrathfull agent doe correct Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heauen

Fran. Peace be to England, if that warre returne From 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 rape Vpon 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 beat Which 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 thoughts In 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 true As thine was to thy husband, and this boy Liker in feature to his father Geffrey Then 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 thinke His father neuer was so true begot, It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother

Queen. Theres a good mother boy, that blots thy father Const. There's a good grandame boy That 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 goes Whose 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 him As 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 eares With 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 will Giue 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 shames Drawes 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'd To 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 vsurpe The Dominations, Royalties, and rights Of 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 generation Remoued 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 plague On this remoued issue, plagued for her, And with her plague her sinne: his iniury Her 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 produce A 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 ayme To these ill-tuned repetitions: Some Trumpet summon hither to the walles These 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 heere Before 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 forth Their Iron indignation 'gainst your walles: All preparation for a bloody siedge And 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 about By the compulsion of their Ordinance, By this time from their fixed beds of lime Had bin dishabited, and wide hauocke made For bloody power to rush vppon your peace. But on the sight of vs your lawfull King, Who painefully with much expedient march Haue 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 fire To 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 spirits Fore-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 protection Is most diuinely vow'd vpon the right Of 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 tread In warlike march, these greenes before your Towne, Being no further enemy to you Then the constraint of hospitable zeale, In the releefe of this oppressed childe, Religiously prouokes. Be pleased then To 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 spent Against 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 discipline Were 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 subiects For 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 King To him will we proue loyall, till that time Haue we ramm'd vp our gates against the world

Iohn. Doth not the Crowne of England, prooue the King? And if not that, I bring you Witnesses Twice 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 fleete In 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 dore Teach vs some sence. Sirrah, were I at home At 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 forth In best appointment all our Regiments

Bast. Speed then to take aduantage of the field

Fra. It shall be so, and at the other hill Command 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 made Much 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 play Vpon the dancing banners of the French, Who are at hand triumphantly displayed To enter Conquerors, and to proclaime Arthur 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 hands That did display them when we first marcht forth: And like a iolly troope of Huntsmen come Our 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 behold From first to last, the on-set and retyre: Of both your Armies, whose equality By our best eyes cannot be censured: Blood hath bought blood, and blowes haue answerd blowes: Strength matcht with strength, and power confronted power, 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-swell With course disturb'd euen thy confining shores, Vnlesse thou let his siluer Water, keepe A peacefull progresse to the Ocean

Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of blood In this hot triall more then we of France, Rather lost more. And by this hand I sweare That 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 men In vndetermin'd differences of kings. Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus: Cry hauocke kings, backe to the stained field You equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits, Then let confusion of one part confirm The 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 locke Our former scruple in our strong barr'd gates: Kings of our feare, vntill our feares resolu'd Be 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 point At 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 bend Your 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 downe The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie, I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades, Euen till vnfenced desolation Leaue 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 forth Out 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 destruction Into 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 stay And 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 Blanch Is neere to England, looke vpon the yeeres Of 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 ioyne Do 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 can To our fast closed gates: for at this match, With swifter spleene then powder can enforce The 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 rockes More free from motion, no not death himselfe In mortall furie halfe so peremptorie, As we to keepe this Citie

Bast. Heeres a stay, That shakes the rotten carkasse of old death Out 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 his But 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 match Giue with our Neece a dowrie large enough, For by this knot, thou shalt so surely tye Thy now vnsur'd assurance to the Crowne, That yon greene boy shall haue no Sunne to ripe The bloome that promiseth a mightie fruite. I see a yeelding in the lookes of France: Marke how they whisper, vrge them while their soules Are capeable of this ambition, Least zeale now melted by the windie breath Of 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 first To 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 rich In 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 find A 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 selfe Till 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 espie Himselfe loues traytor, this is pittie now; That hang'd, and drawne, and quarter'd there should be In 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 your Iudge, That I can finde, should merit any hate

Iohn. What saie these yong-ones? What say you my Neece? Blan. That she is bound in honor still to do What you in wisedome still vouchsafe to say

Iohn. Speake then Prince Dolphin, can you loue this Ladie? 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 Prouinces With 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 hands Aust. 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 made Will giue her sadnesse very little cure: Brother of England, how may we content This 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 Britaine And Earle of Richmond, and this rich faire Towne We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Constance, Some speedy Messenger bid her repaire To 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 word Is 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 iest With 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 grim Vgly, 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 thou Become 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 France To 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 alone Am 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 earth Can 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.

Fran. 'Tis true (faire daughter) and this blessed day, Euer in France shall be kept festiuall: To solemnize this day the glorious sunne Stayes in his course, and playes the Alchymist, Turning with splendor of his precious eye The meager cloddy earth to glittering gold: The yearely course that brings this day about, Shall neuer see it, but a holy day

Const. A wicked day, and not a holy day. What hath this day deseru'd? what hath it done, That it in golden letters should be set Among the high tides in the Kalender? Nay, rather turne this day out of the weeke, This day of shame, oppression, periury. Or if it must stand still, let wiues with childe Pray that their burthens may not fall this day, Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crost: But (on this day) let Sea-men feare no wracke, No bargaines breake that are not this day made; This day all things begun, come to ill end, Yea, faith it selfe to hollow falshood change

Fra. By heauen Lady, you shall haue no cause To curse the faire proceedings of this day: Haue I not pawn'd to you my Maiesty? Const. You haue beguil'd me with a counterfeit Resembling Maiesty, which being touch'd and tride, Proues valuelesse: you are forsworne, forsworne, You came in Armes to spill mine enemies bloud, But now in Armes, you strengthen it with yours. The grapling vigor, and rough frowne of Warre Is cold in amitie, and painted peace, And our oppression hath made vp this league: Arme, arme, you heauens, against these periur'd Kings, A widdow cries, be husband to me (heauens) Let not the howres of this vngodly day Weare out the daies in Peace; but ere Sun-set, Set armed discord 'twixt these periur'd Kings, Heare me, Oh, heare me

Aust. Lady Constance, peace

Const. War, war, no peace, peace is to me a warre: O Lymoges, O Austria, thou dost shame That bloudy spoyle: thou slaue, thou wretch, y coward, Thou little valiant, great in villanie, Thou euer strong vpon the stronger side; Thou Fortunes Champion, that do'st neuer fight But when her humourous Ladiship is by To teach thee safety: thou art periur'd too, And sooth'st vp greatnesse. What a foole art thou, A ramping foole, to brag, and stamp, and sweare, Vpon my partie: thou cold blooded slaue, Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? Beene sworne my Souldier, bidding me depend Vpon thy starres, thy fortune, and thy strength, And dost thou now fall ouer to my foes? Thou weare a Lyons hide, doff it for shame, And hang a Calues skin on those recreant limbes

Aus. O that a man should speake those words to me

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs Aus. Thou dar'st not say so villaine for thy life

Phil. And hang a Calues-skin on those recreant limbs

Iohn. We like not this, thou dost forget thy selfe. Enter Pandulph.

Fra. Heere comes the holy Legat of the Pope

Pan. Haile you annointed deputies of heauen; To thee King Iohn my holy errand is: I Pandulph, of faire Millane Cardinall, And from Pope Innocent the Legate heere, Doe in his name religiously demand Why thou against the Church, our holy Mother, So wilfully dost spurne; and force perforce Keepe Stephen Langton chosen Archbishop Of Canterbury from that holy Sea: This in our foresaid holy Fathers name Pope Innocent, I doe demand of thee

Iohn. What earthie name to Interrogatories Can tast the free breath of a sacred King? Thou canst not (Cardinall) deuise a name So slight, vnworthy, and ridiculous To charge me to an answere, as the Pope: Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of England, Adde thus much more, that no Italian Priest Shall tythe or toll in our dominions: But as we, vnder heauen, are supreame head, So vnder him that great supremacy Where we doe reigne, we will alone vphold Without th' assistance of a mortall hand: So tell the Pope, all reuerence set apart To him and his vsurp'd authoritie

Fra. Brother of England, you blaspheme in this

Iohn. Though you, and all the Kings of Christendom Are led so grossely by this medling Priest, Dreading the curse that money may buy out, And by the merit of vilde gold, drosse, dust, Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, Who in that sale sels pardon from himselfe: Though you, and al the rest so grossely led, This iugling witchcraft with reuennue cherish, Yet I alone, alone doe me oppose Against the Pope, and count his friends my foes

Pand. Then by the lawfull power that I haue, Thou shalt stand curst, and excommunicate, And blessed shall he be that doth reuolt From his Allegeance to an heretique, And meritorious shall that hand be call'd, Canonized and worship'd as a Saint, That takes away by any secret course Thy hatefull life

Con. O lawfull let it be That I haue roome with Rome to curse a while, Good Father Cardinall, cry thou Amen To my keene curses; for without my wrong There is no tongue hath power to curse him right

Pan. There's Law and Warrant (Lady) for my curse

Cons. And for mine too, when Law can do no right. Let it be lawfull, that Law barre no wrong: Law cannot giue my childe his kingdome heere; For he that holds his Kingdome, holds the Law: Therefore since Law it selfe is perfect wrong, How can the Law forbid my tongue to curse? Pand. Philip of France, on perill of a curse, Let goe the hand of that Arch-heretique, And raise the power of France vpon his head, Vnlesse he doe submit himselfe to Rome

Elea. Look'st thou pale France? do not let go thy hand

Con. Looke to that Deuill, lest that France repent, And by disioyning hands hell lose a soule

Aust. King Philip, listen to the Cardinall

Bast. And hang a Calues-skin on his recreant limbs

Aust. Well ruffian, I must pocket vp these wrongs, Because, Bast. Your breeches best may carry them

Iohn. Philip, what saist thou to the Cardinall? Con. What should he say, but as the Cardinall? Dolph. Bethinke you father, for the difference Is purchase of a heauy curse from Rome, Or the light losse of England, for a friend: Forgoe the easier

Bla. That's the curse of Rome

Con. O Lewis, stand fast, the deuill tempts thee heere In likenesse of a new vntrimmed Bride

Bla. The Lady Constance speakes not from her faith, But from her need

Con. Oh, if thou grant my need, Which onely liues but by the death of faith, That need, must needs inferre this principle, That faith would liue againe by death of need: O then tread downe my need, and faith mounts vp, Keepe my need vp, and faith is trodden downe

Iohn. The king is moud, and answers not to this

Con. O be remou'd from him, and answere well

Aust. Doe so king Philip, hang no more in doubt

Bast. Hang nothing but a Calues skin most sweet lout

Fra. I am perplext, and know not what to say

Pan. What canst thou say, but wil perplex thee more? If thou stand excommunicate, and curst? Fra. Good reuerend father, make my person yours, And tell me how you would bestow your selfe? This royall hand and mine are newly knit, And the coniunction of our inward soules Married in league, coupled, and link'd together With all religous strength of sacred vowes, The latest breath that gaue the sound of words Was deepe-sworne faith, peace, amity, true loue Betweene our kingdomes and our royall selues, And euen before this truce, but new before, No longer then we well could wash our hands, To clap this royall bargaine vp of peace, Heauen knowes they were besmear'd and ouer-staind With slaughters pencill; where reuenge did paint The fearefull difference of incensed kings: And shall these hands so lately purg'd of bloud? So newly ioyn'd in loue? so strong in both, Vnyoke this seysure, and this kinde regreete? Play fast and loose with faith? so iest with heauen, Make such vnconstant children of our selues As now againe to snatch our palme from palme: Vn-sweare faith sworne, and on the marriage bed Of smiling peace to march a bloody hoast, And make a ryot on the gentle brow Of true sincerity? O holy Sir My reuerend father, let it not be so; Out of your grace, deuise, ordaine, impose Some gentle order, and then we shall be blest To doe your pleasure, and continue friends

Pand. All forme is formelesse, Order orderlesse, Saue what is opposite to Englands loue. Therefore to Armes, be Champion of our Church, Or let the Church our mother breathe her curse, A mothers curse, on her reuolting sonne: France, thou maist hold a serpent by the tongue, A cased Lion by the mortall paw, A fasting Tyger safer by the tooth, Then keepe in peace that hand which thou dost hold

Fra. I may dis-ioyne my hand, but not my faith

Pand. So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith, And like a ciuill warre setst oath to oath, Thy tongue against thy tongue. O let thy vow First made to heauen, first be to heauen perform'd, That is, to be the Champion of our Church, What since thou sworst, is sworne against thy selfe, And may not be performed by thy selfe, For that which thou hast sworne to doe amisse, Is not amisse when it is truely done: And being not done, where doing tends to ill, The truth is then most done not doing it: The better Act of purposes mistooke, Is to mistake again, though indirect, Yet indirection thereby growes direct, And falshood, falshood cures, as fire cooles fire Within the scorched veines of one new burn'd: It is religion that doth make vowes kept, But thou hast sworne against religion: By what thou swear'st against the thing thou swear'st, And mak'st an oath the suretie for thy truth, Against an oath the truth, thou art vnsure To sweare, sweares onely not to be forsworne, Else what a mockerie should it be to sweare? But thou dost sweare, onely to be forsworne, And most forsworne, to keepe what thou dost sweare, Therefore thy later vowes, against thy first, Is in thy selfe rebellion to thy selfe: And better conquest neuer canst thou make, Then arme thy constant and thy nobler parts Against these giddy loose suggestions: Vpon which better part, our prayrs come in, If thou vouchsafe them. But if not, then know The perill of our curses light on thee So heauy, as thou shalt not shake them off But in despaire, dye vnder their blacke weight

Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion

Bast. Wil't not be? Will not a Calues-skin stop that mouth of thine? Daul. Father, to Armes

Blanch. Vpon thy wedding day? Against the blood that thou hast married? What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men? Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish drums Clamors of hell, be measures to our pomp? O husband heare me: aye, alacke, how new Is husband in my mouth? euen for that name Which till this time my tongue did nere pronounce; Vpon my knee I beg, goe not to Armes Against mine Vncle

Const. O, vpon my knee made hard with kneeling, I doe pray to thee, thou vertuous Daulphin, Alter not the doome fore-thought by heauen

Blan. Now shall I see thy loue, what motiue may Be stronger with thee, then the name of wife? Con. That which vpholdeth him, that thee vpholds, His Honor, Oh thine Honor, Lewis thine Honor

Dolph. I muse your Maiesty doth seeme so cold, When such profound respects doe pull you on? Pand. I will denounce a curse vpon his head

Fra. Thou shalt not need. England, I will fall fro[m] thee

Const. O faire returne of banish'd Maiestie

Elea. O foule reuolt of French inconstancy

Eng. France, y shalt rue this houre within this houre

Bast. Old Time the clocke setter, y bald sexton Time: Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue

Bla. The Sun's orecast with bloud: faire day adieu, Which is the side that I must goe withall? I am with both, each Army hath a hand, And in their rage, I hauing hold of both, They whurle a-sunder, and dismember mee. Husband, I cannot pray that thou maist winne: Vncle, I needs must pray that thou maist lose: Father, I may not wish the fortune thine: Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thriue: Who-euer wins, on that side shall I lose: Assured losse, before the match be plaid

Dolph. Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies

Bla. There where my fortune liues, there my life dies

Iohn. Cosen, goe draw our puisance together, France, I am burn'd vp with inflaming wrath, A rage, whose heat hath this condition; That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood and deerest valued bloud of France

Fra. Thy rage shall burne thee vp, & thou shalt turne To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire: Looke to thy selfe, thou art in ieopardie

Iohn. No more then he that threats. To Arms let's hie.

Exeunt.

Scoena Secunda.

Allarums, Excursions: Enter Bastard with Austria's head.

Bast. Now by my life, this day grows wondrous hot, Some ayery Deuill houers in the skie, And pour's downe mischiefe. Austrias head lye there, Enter Iohn, Arthur, Hubert.

While Philip breathes

Iohn. Hubert, keepe this boy: Philip make vp, My Mother is assayled in our Tent, And tane I feare

Bast. My Lord I rescued her, Her Highnesse is in safety, feare you not: But on my Liege, for very little paines Will bring this labor to an happy end. Enter.

Alarums, excursions, Retreat. Enter Iohn, Eleanor, Arthur Bastard, Hubert, Lords.

Iohn. So shall it be: your Grace shall stay behinde So strongly guarded: Cosen, looke not sad, Thy Grandame loues thee, and thy Vnkle will As deere be to thee, as thy father was

Arth. O this will make my mother die with griefe

Iohn. Cosen away for England, haste before, And ere our comming see thou shake the bags Of hoording Abbots, imprisoned angells Set at libertie: the fat ribs of peace Must by the hungry now be fed vpon: Vse our Commission in his vtmost force

Bast. Bell, Booke, & Candle, shall not driue me back, When gold and siluer becks me to come on. I leaue your highnesse: Grandame, I will pray (If euer I remember to be holy) For your faire safety: so I kisse your hand

Ele. Farewell gentle Cosen

Iohn. Coz, farewell

Ele. Come hether little kinsman, harke, a worde

Iohn. Come hether Hubert. O my gentle Hubert, We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh There is a soule counts thee her Creditor, And with aduantage meanes to pay thy loue: And my good friend, thy voluntary oath Liues in this bosome, deerely cherished. Giue me thy hand, I had a thing to say, But I will fit it with some better tune. By heauen Hubert, I am almost asham'd To say what good respect I haue of thee

Hub. I am much bounden to your Maiesty

Iohn. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet, But thou shalt haue: and creepe time nere so slow, Yet it shall come, for me to doe thee good. I had a thing to say, but let it goe: The Sunne is in the heauen, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton, and too full of gawdes To giue me audience: If the mid-night bell Did with his yron tongue, and brazen mouth Sound on into the drowzie race of night: If this same were a Church-yard where we stand, And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs: Or if that surly spirit melancholy Had bak'd thy bloud, and made it heauy, thicke, Which else runnes tickling vp and downe the veines, Making that idiot laughter keepe mens eyes, And straine their cheekes to idle merriment, A passion hatefull to my purposes: Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes, Heare me without thine eares, and make reply Without a tongue, vsing conceit alone, Without eyes, eares, and harmefull sound of words: Then, in despight of brooded watchfull day, I would into thy bosome poure my thoughts: But (ah) I will not, yet I loue thee well, And by my troth I thinke thou lou'st me well

Hub. So well, that what you bid me vndertake, Though that my death were adiunct to my Act, By heauen I would doe it

Iohn. Doe not I know thou wouldst? Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert throw thine eye On yon young boy: Ile tell thee what my friend, He is a very serpent in my way, And wheresoere this foot of mine doth tread, He lies before me: dost thou vnderstand me? Thou art his keeper

Hub. And Ile keepe him so, That he shall not offend your Maiesty

Iohn. Death

Hub. My Lord

Iohn. A Graue

Hub. He shall not liue

Iohn. Enough. I could be merry now, Hubert, I loue thee. Well, Ile not say what I intend for thee: Remember: Madam, Fare you well, Ile send those powers o're to your Maiesty

Ele. My blessing goe with thee

Iohn. For England Cosen, goe. Hubert shall be your man, attend on you With al true duetie: On toward Callice, hoa.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter France, Dolphin, Pandulpho, Attendants.

Fra. So by a roaring Tempest on the flood, A whole Armado of conuicted saile Is scattered and dis-ioyn'd from fellowship

Pand. Courage and comfort, all shall yet goe well

Fra. What can goe well, when we haue runne so ill? Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost? Arthur tane prisoner? diuers deere friends slaine? And bloudy England into England gone, Ore-bearing interruption spight of France? Dol. What he hath won, that hath he fortified: So hot a speed, with such aduice dispos'd, Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, Doth want example: who hath read, or heard Of any kindred-action like to this? Fra. Well could I beare that England had this praise, So we could finde some patterne of our shame: Enter Constance.

Looke who comes heere? a graue vnto a soule, Holding th' eternall spirit against her will, In the vilde prison of afflicted breath: I prethee Lady goe away with me

Con. Lo; now: now see the issue of your peace

Fra. Patience good Lady, comfort gentle Constance

Con. No, I defie all Counsell, all redresse, But that which ends all counsell, true Redresse: Death, death, O amiable, louely death, Thou odoriferous stench: sound rottennesse, Arise forth from the couch of lasting night, Thou hate and terror to prosperitie, And I will kisse thy detestable bones, And put my eye-balls in thy vaultie browes, And ring these fingers with thy houshold wormes, And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, And be a Carrion Monster like thy selfe; Come, grin on me, and I will thinke thou smil'st, And busse thee as thy wife: Miseries Loue, O come to me

Fra. O faire affliction, peace

Con. No, no, I will not, hauing breath to cry: O that my tongue were in the thunders mouth, Then with a passion would I shake the world, And rowze from sleepe that fell Anatomy Which cannot heare a Ladies feeble voyce, Which scornes a moderne Inuocation

Pand. Lady, you vtter madnesse, and not sorrow

Con. Thou art holy to belye me so, I am not mad: this haire I teare is mine, My name is Constance, I was Geffreyes wife, Yong Arthur is my sonne, and he is lost: I am not mad, I would to heauen I were, For then 'tis like I should forget my selfe: O, if I could, what griefe should I forget? Preach some Philosophy to make me mad, And thou shalt be Canoniz'd (Cardinall.) For, being not mad, but sensible of greefe, My reasonable part produces reason How I may be deliuer'd of these woes. And teaches mee to kill or hang my selfe: If I were mad, I should forget my sonne, Or madly thinke a babe of clowts were he; I am not mad: too well, too well I feele The different plague of each calamitie

Fra. Binde vp those tresses: O what loue I note In the faire multitude of those her haires; Where but by chance a siluer drop hath falne, Euen to that drop ten thousand wiery fiends Doe glew themselues in sociable griefe, Like true, inseparable, faithfull loues, Sticking together in calamitie

Con. To England, if you will

Fra. Binde vp your haires

Con. Yes that I will: and wherefore will I do it? I tore them from their bonds, and cride aloud, O, that these hands could so redeeme my sonne, As they haue giuen these hayres their libertie: But now I enuie at their libertie, And will againe commit them to their bonds, Because my poore childe is a prisoner. And Father Cardinall, I haue heard you say That we shall see and know our friends in heauen: If that be true, I shall see my boy againe; For since the birth of Caine, the first male-childe To him that did but yesterday suspire, There was not such a gracious creature borne: But now will Canker-sorrow eat my bud, And chase the natiue beauty from his cheeke, And he will looke as hollow as a Ghost, As dim and meager as an Agues fitte, And so hee'll dye: and rising so againe, When I shall meet him in the Court of heauen I shall not know him: therefore neuer, neuer Must I behold my pretty Arthur more

Pand. You hold too heynous a respect of greefe

Const. He talkes to me, that neuer had a sonne

Fra. You are as fond of greefe, as of your childe

Con. Greefe fils the roome vp of my absent childe: Lies in his bed, walkes vp and downe with me, Puts on his pretty lookes, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffes out his vacant garments with his forme; Then, haue I reason to be fond of griefe? Fareyouwell: had you such a losse as I, I could giue better comfort then you doe. I will not keepe this forme vpon my head, When there is such disorder in my witte: O Lord, my boy, my Arthur, my faire sonne, My life, my ioy, my food, my all the world: My widow-comfort, and my sorrowes cure. Enter.

Fra. I feare some out-rage, and Ile follow her. Enter

Dol. There's nothing in this world can make me ioy, Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull eare of a drowsie man; And bitter shame hath spoyl'd the sweet words taste, That it yeelds nought but shame and bitternesse

Pand. Before the curing of a strong disease, Euen in the instant of repaire and health, The fit is strongest: Euils that take leaue On their departure, most of all shew euill: What haue you lost by losing of this day? Dol. All daies of glory, ioy, and happinesse

Pan. If you had won it, certainely you had. No, no: when Fortune meanes to men most good, Shee lookes vpon them with a threatning eye: 'Tis strange to thinke how much King Iohn hath lost In this which he accounts so clearely wonne: Are not you grieu'd that Arthur is his prisoner? Dol. As heartily as he is glad he hath him

Pan. Your minde is all as youthfull as your blood. Now heare me speake with a propheticke spirit: For euen the breath of what I meane to speake, Shall blow each dust, each straw, each little rub Out of the path which shall directly lead Thy foote to Englands Throne. And therefore marke: Iohn hath seiz'd Arthur, and it cannot be, That whiles warme life playes in that infants veines, The mis-plac'dIohn should entertaine an houre, One minute, nay one quiet breath of rest. A Scepter snatch'd with an vnruly hand, Must be as boysterously maintain'd as gain'd. And he that stands vpon a slipp'ry place, Makes nice of no vilde hold to stay him vp: That Iohn may stand, then Arthur needs must fall, So be it, for it cannot be but so

Dol. But what shall I gaine by yong Arthurs fall? Pan. You, in the right of Lady Blanch your wife, May then make all the claime that Arthur did

Dol. And loose it, life and all, as Arthur did

Pan. How green you are, and fresh in this old world? Iohn layes you plots: the times conspire with you, For he that steepes his safetie in true blood, Shall finde but bloodie safety, and vntrue. This Act so euilly borne shall coole the hearts Of all his people, and freeze vp their zeale, That none so small aduantage shall step forth To checke his reigne, but they will cherish it. No naturall exhalation in the skie, No scope of Nature, no distemper'd day, No common winde, no customed euent, But they will plucke away his naturall cause, And call them Meteors, prodigies, and signes, Abbortiues, presages, and tongues of heauen, Plainly denouncing vengeance vpon Iohn

Dol. May be he will not touch yong Arthurs life, But hold himselfe safe in his prisonment

Pan. O Sir, when he shall heare of your approach, If that yong Arthur be not gone alreadie, Euen at that newes he dies: and then the hearts Of all his people shall reuolt from him, And kisse the lippes of vnacquainted change, And picke strong matter of reuolt, and wrath Out of the bloody fingers ends of Iohn. Me thinkes I see this hurley all on foot; And O, what better matter breeds for you, Then I haue nam'd. The Bastard Falconbridge Is now in England ransacking the Church, Offending Charity: If but a dozen French Were there in Armes, they would be as a Call To traine ten thousand English to their side; Or, as a little snow, tumbled about, Anon becomes a Mountaine. O noble Dolphine, Go with me to the King, 'tis wonderfull, What may be wrought out of their discontent, Now that their soules are topfull of offence, For England go; I will whet on the King

Dol. Strong reasons makes strange actions: let vs go, If you say I, the King will not say no.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter Hubert and Executioners.

Hub. Heate me these Irons hot, and looke thou stand Within the Arras: when I strike my foot Vpon the bosome of the ground, rush forth And binde the boy, which you shall finde with me Fast to the chaire: be heedfull: hence, and watch

Exec. I hope your warrant will beare out the deed

Hub. Vncleanly scruples feare not you: looke too't. Yong Lad come forth; I haue to say with you. Enter Arthur.

Ar. Good morrow Hubert

Hub. Good morrow, little Prince

Ar. As little Prince, hauing so great a Title To be more Prince, as may be: you are sad

Hub. Indeed I haue beene merrier

Art. 'Mercie on me: Me thinkes no body should be sad but I: Yet I remember, when I was in France, Yong Gentlemen would be as sad as night Onely for wantonnesse: by my Christendome, So I were out of prison, and kept Sheepe I should be as merry as the day is long: And so I would be heere, but that I doubt My Vnckle practises more harme to me: He is affraid of me, and I of him: Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne? No in deede is't not: and I would to heauen I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert: Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate He will awake my mercie, which lies dead: Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch

Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day, Insooth I would you were a little sicke, That I might sit all night, and watch with you. I warrant I loue you more then you do me

Hub. His words do take possession of my bosome. Reade heere yong Arthur. How now foolish rheume? Turning dispitious torture out of doore? I must be breefe, least resolution drop Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish teares. Can you not reade it? Is it not faire writ? Ar. Too fairely Hubert, for so foule effect, Must you with hot Irons, burne out both mine eyes? Hub. Yong Boy, I must

Art. And will you? Hub. And I will

Art. Haue you the heart? When your head did but ake, I knit my hand-kercher about your browes (The best I had, a Princesse wrought it me) And I did neuer aske it you againe: And with my hand, at midnight held your head; And like the watchfull minutes, to the houre, Still and anon cheer'd vp the heauy time; Saying, what lacke you? and where lies your greefe? Or what good loue may I performe for you? Many a poore mans sonne would haue lyen still, And nere haue spoke a louing word to you: But you, at your sicke seruice had a Prince: Nay, you may thinke my loue was craftie loue, And call it cunning. Do, and if you will, If heauen be pleas'd that you must vse me ill, Why then you must. Will you put out mine eyes? These eyes, that neuer did, nor neuer shall So much as frowne on you

Hub. I haue sworne to do it: And with hot Irons must I burne them out

Ar. Ah, none but in this Iron Age, would do it: The Iron of it selfe, though heate red hot, Approaching neere these eyes, would drinke my teares, And quench this fierie indignation, Euen in the matter of mine innocence: Nay, after that, consume away in rust, But for containing fire to harme mine eye: Are you more stubborne hard, then hammer'd Iron? And if an Angell should haue come to me, And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes, I would not haue beleeu'd him: no tongue but Huberts

Hub. Come forth: Do as I bid you do

Art. O saue me Hubert, saue me: my eyes are out Euen with the fierce lookes of these bloody men

Hub. Giue me the Iron I say, and binde him heere

Art. Alas, what neede you be so boistrous rough? I will not struggle, I will stand stone still: For heauen sake Hubert let me not be bound: Nay heare me Hubert, driue these men away, And I will sit as quiet as a Lambe. I will not stirre, nor winch, nor speake a word, Nor looke vpon the Iron angerly: Thrust but these men away, and Ile forgiue you, What euer torment you do put me too

Hub. Go stand within: let me alone with him

Exec. I am best pleas'd to be from such a deede

Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend, He hath a sterne looke, but a gentle heart: Let him come backe, that his compassion may Giue life to yours

Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe

Art. Is there no remedie? Hub. None, but to lose your eyes

Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours, A graine, a dust, a gnat, a wandering haire, Any annoyance in that precious sense: Then feeling what small things are boysterous there, Your vilde intent must needs seeme horrible

Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong

Art. Hubert, the vtterance of a brace of tongues, Must needes want pleading for a paire of eyes: Let me not hold my tongue: let me not Hubert, Or Hubert, if you will cut out my tongue, So I may keepe mine eyes. O spare mine eyes, Though to no vse, but still to looke on you. Loe, by my troth, the Instrument is cold, And would not harme me

Hub. I can heate it, Boy

Art. No, in good sooth: the fire is dead with griefe, Being create for comfort, to be vs'd In vndeserued extreames: See else your selfe, There is no malice in this burning cole, The breath of heauen, hath blowne his spirit out, And strew'd repentant ashes on his head

Hub. But with my breath I can reuiue it Boy

Art. And if you do, you will but make it blush, And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert: Nay, it perchance will sparkle in your eyes: And, like a dogge that is compell'd to fight, Snatch at his Master that doth tarre him on. All things that you should vse to do me wrong Deny their office: onely you do lacke That mercie, which fierce fire, and Iron extends, Creatures of note for mercy, lacking vses

Hub. Well, see to liue: I will not touch thine eye, For all the Treasure that thine Vnckle owes, Yet am I sworne, and I did purpose, Boy, With this same very Iron, to burne them out

Art. O now you looke like Hubert. All this while You were disguis'd

Hub. Peace: no more. Adieu, Your Vnckle must not know but you are dead. Ile fill these dogged Spies with false reports: And, pretty childe, sleepe doubtlesse, and secure, That Hubert for the wealth of all the world, Will not offend thee

Art. O heauen! I thanke you Hubert

Hub. Silence, no more; go closely in with mee, Much danger do I vndergo for thee.

Exeunt.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Iohn, Pembroke, Salisbury, and other Lordes.

Iohn. Heere once againe we sit: once against crown'd And look'd vpon, I hope, with chearefull eyes

Pem. This once again (but that your Highnes pleas'd) Was once superfluous: you were Crown'd before, And that high Royalty was nere pluck'd off: The faiths of men, nere stained with reuolt: Fresh expectation troubled not the Land With any long'd-for-change, or better State

Sal. Therefore, to be possess'd with double pompe, To guard a Title, that was rich before; To gilde refined Gold, to paint the Lilly; To throw a perfume on the Violet, To smooth the yce, or adde another hew Vnto the Raine-bow; or with Taper-light To seeke the beauteous eye of heauen to garnish, Is wastefull, and ridiculous excesse

Pem. But that your Royall pleasure must be done, This acte, is as an ancient tale new told, And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being vrged at a time vnseasonable

Sal. In this the Anticke, and well noted face Of plaine old forme, is much disfigured, And like a shifted winde vnto a saile, It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about, Startles, and frights consideration: Makes sound opinion sicke, and truth suspected, For putting on so new a fashion'd robe

Pem. When Workemen striue to do better then wel, They do confound their skill in couetousnesse, And oftentimes excusing of a fault, Doth make the fault the worse by th' excuse: As patches set vpon a little breach, Discredite more in hiding of the fault, Then did the fault before it was so patch'd

Sal. To this effect, before you were new crown'd We breath'd our Councell: but it pleas'd your Highnes To ouer-beare it, and we are all well pleas'd, Since all, and euery part of what we would Doth make a stand, at what your Highnesse will

Ioh. Some reasons of this double Corronation I haue possest you with, and thinke them strong. And more, more strong, then lesser is my feare I shall indue you with: Meane time, but aske What you would haue reform'd, that is not well, And well shall you perceiue, how willingly I will both heare, and grant you your requests

Pem. Then I, as one that am the tongue of these To sound the purposes of all their hearts, Both for my selfe, and them: but chiefe of all Your safety: for the which, my selfe and them Bend their best studies, heartily request Th' infranchisement of Arthur, whose restraint Doth moue the murmuring lips of discontent To breake into this dangerous argument. If what in rest you haue, in right you hold, Why then your feares, which (as they say) attend The steppes of wrong, should moue you to mew vp Your tender kinsman, and to choake his dayes With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth The rich aduantage of good exercise, That the times enemies may not haue this To grace occasions: let it be our suite, That you haue bid vs aske his libertie, Which for our goods, we do no further aske, Then, whereupon our weale on you depending, Counts it your weale: he haue his liberty. Enter Hubert.

Iohn. Let it be so: I do commit his youth To your direction: Hubert, what newes with you? Pem. This is the man should do the bloody deed: He shew'd his warrant to a friend of mine, The image of a wicked heynous fault Liues in his eye: that close aspect of his, Do shew the mood of a much troubled brest, And I do fearefully beleeue 'tis done, What we so fear'd he had a charge to do

Sal. The colour of the King doth come, and go Betweene his purpose and his conscience, Like Heralds 'twixt two dreadfull battailes set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must breake

Pem. And when it breakes, I feare will issue thence The foule corruption of a sweet childes death

Iohn. We cannot hold mortalities strong hand. Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing, The suite which you demand is gone, and dead. He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night

Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure

Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was, Before the childe himselfe felt he was sicke: This must be answer'd either heere, or hence

Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me? Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of destiny? Haue I commandement on the pulse of life? Sal. It is apparant foule-play, and 'tis shame That Greatnesse should so grossely offer it; So thriue it in your game, and so farewell

Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee, And finde th' inheritance of this poore childe, His little kingdome of a forced graue. That blood which ow'd the bredth of all this Ile, Three foot of it doth hold; bad world the while: This must not be thus borne, this will breake out To all our sorrowes, and ere long I doubt.

Exeunt.

Io. They burn in indignation: I repent: Enter Mes.

There is no sure foundation set on blood: No certaine life atchieu'd by others death: A fearefull eye thou hast. Where is that blood, That I haue seene inhabite in those cheekes? So foule a skie, cleeres not without a storme, Poure downe thy weather: how goes all in France? Mes. From France to England, neuer such a powre For any forraigne preparation, Was leuied in the body of a land. The Copie of your speede is learn'd by them: For when you should be told they do prepare, The tydings comes, that they are all arriu'd

Ioh. Oh where hath our Intelligence bin drunke? Where hath it slept? Where is my Mothers care? That such an Army could be drawne in France, And she not heare of it? Mes. My Liege, her eare Is stopt with dust: the first of Aprill di'de Your noble mother; and as I heare, my Lord, The Lady Constance in a frenzie di'de Three dayes before: but this from Rumors tongue I idely heard: if true, or false I know not

Iohn. With-hold thy speed, dreadfull Occasion: O make a league with me, 'till I haue pleas'd My discontented Peeres. What? Mother dead? How wildely then walkes my Estate in France? Vnder whose conduct came those powres of France, That thou for truth giu'st out are landed heere? Mes. Vnder the Dolphin. Enter Bastard and Peter of Pomfret.

Ioh. Thou hast made me giddy With these ill tydings: Now? What sayes the world To your proceedings? Do not seeke to stuffe My head with more ill newes: for it is full

Bast. But if you be a-feard to heare the worst, Then let the worst vn-heard, fall on your head

Iohn. Beare with me Cosen, for I was amaz'd Vnder the tide; but now I breath againe Aloft the flood, and can giue audience To any tongue, speake it of what it will

Bast. How I haue sped among the Clergy men, The summes I haue collected shall expresse: But as I trauail'd hither through the land, I finde the people strangely fantasied, Possest with rumors, full of idle dreames, Not knowing what they feare, but full of feare. And here's a Prophet that I brought with me From forth the streets of Pomfret, whom I found With many hundreds treading on his heeles: To whom he sung in rude harsh sounding rimes, That ere the next Ascension day at noone, Your Highnes should deliuer vp your Crowne

Iohn. Thou idle Dreamer, wherefore didst thou so? Pet. Fore-knowing that the truth will fall out so

Iohn. Hubert, away with him: imprison him, And on that day at noone, whereon he sayes I shall yeeld vp my Crowne, let him be hang'd Deliuer him to safety, and returne, For I must vse thee. O my gentle Cosen, Hear'st thou the newes abroad, who are arriu'd? Bast. The French (my Lord) mens mouths are ful of it: Besides I met Lord Bigot, and Lord Salisburie With eyes as red as new enkindled fire, And others more, going to seeke the graue Of Arthur, whom they say is kill'd to night, on your suggestion

Iohn. Gentle kinsman, go And thrust thy selfe into their Companies, I haue a way to winne their loues againe: Bring them before me

Bast. I will seeke them out

Iohn. Nay, but make haste: the better foote before. O, let me haue no subiect enemies, When aduerse Forreyners affright my Townes With dreadfull pompe of stout inuasion. Be Mercurie, set feathers to thy heeles, And flye (like thought) from them, to me againe

Bast. The spirit of the time shall teach me speed.

Exit

Iohn. Spoke like a sprightfull Noble Gentleman. Go after him: for he perhaps shall neede Some Messenger betwixt me, and the Peeres, And be thou hee

Mes. With all my heart, my Liege

Iohn. My mother dead? Enter Hubert.

Hub. My Lord, they say fiue Moones were seene to night: Foure fixed, and the fift did whirle about The other foure, in wondrous motion

Ioh. Fiue Moones? Hub. Old men, and Beldames, in the streets Do prophesie vpon it dangerously: Yong Arthurs death is common in their mouths, And when they talke of him, they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the eare. And he that speakes, doth gripe the hearers wrist, Whilst he that heares, makes fearefull action With wrinkled browes, with nods, with rolling eyes. I saw a Smith stand with his hammer (thus) The whilst his Iron did on the Anuile coole, With open mouth swallowing a Taylors newes, Who with his Sheeres, and Measure in his hand, Standing on slippers, which his nimble haste Had falsely thrust vpon contrary feete, Told of a many thousand warlike French, That were embattailed, and rank'd in Kent. Another leane, vnwash'd Artificer, Cuts off his tale, and talkes of Arthurs death

Io. Why seek'st thou to possesse me with these feares? Why vrgest thou so oft yong Arthurs death? Thy hand hath murdred him: I had a mighty cause To wish him dead, but thou hadst none to kill him

H. No had (my Lord?) why, did you not prouoke me? Iohn. It is the curse of Kings, to be attended By slaues, that take their humors for a warrant, To breake within the bloody house of life, And on the winking of Authoritie To vnderstand a Law; to know the meaning Of dangerous Maiesty, when perchance it frownes More vpon humor, then aduis'd respect

Hub. Heere is your hand and Seale for what I did

Ioh. Oh, when the last accompt twixt heauen & earth Is to be made, then shall this hand and Seale Witnesse against vs to damnation. How oft the sight of meanes to do ill deeds, Make deeds ill done? Had'st not thou beene by, A fellow by the hand of Nature mark'd, Quoted, and sign'd to do a deede of shame, This murther had not come into my minde. But taking note of thy abhorr'd Aspect, Finding thee fit for bloody villanie: Apt, liable to be employ'd in danger, I faintly broke with thee of Arthurs death: And thou, to be endeered to a King, Made it no conscience to destroy a Prince

Hub. My Lord

Ioh. Had'st thou but shooke thy head, or made a pause When I spake darkely, what I purposed: Or turn'd an eye of doubt vpon my face; As bid me tell my tale in expresse words: Deepe shame had struck me dumbe, made me break off, And those thy feares, might haue wrought feares in me. But, thou didst vnderstand me by my signes, And didst in signes againe parley with sinne, Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent, And consequently, thy rude hand to acte The deed, which both our tongues held vilde to name. Out of my sight, and neuer see me more: My Nobles leaue me, and my State is braued, Euen at my gates, with rankes of forraigne powres; Nay, in the body of this fleshly Land, This kingdome, this Confine of blood, and breathe Hostilitie, and ciuill tumult reignes Betweene my conscience, and my Cosins death

Hub. Arme you against your other enemies: Ile make a peace betweene your soule, and you. Yong Arthur is aliue: This hand of mine Is yet a maiden, and an innocent hand. Not painted with the Crimson spots of blood, Within this bosome, neuer entred yet The dreadfull motion of a murderous thought, And you haue slander'd Nature in my forme, Which howsoeuer rude exteriorly, Is yet the couer of a fayrer minde, Then to be butcher of an innocent childe

Iohn. Doth Arthur liue? O hast thee to the Peeres, Throw this report on their incensed rage, And make them tame to their obedience. Forgiue the Comment that my passion made Vpon thy feature, for my rage was blinde, And foule immaginarie eyes of blood Presented thee more hideous then thou art. Oh, answer not; but to my Closset bring The angry Lords, with all expedient hast, I coniure thee but slowly: run more fast.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Arthur on the walles.

Ar. The Wall is high, and yet will I leape downe. Good ground be pittifull, and hurt me not: There's few or none do know me, if they did, This Ship-boyes semblance hath disguis'd me quite. I am afraide, and yet Ile venture it. If I get downe, and do not breake my limbes, Ile finde a thousand shifts to get away; As good to dye, and go; as dye, and stay. Oh me, my Vnckles spirit is in these stones, Heauen take my soule, and England keep my bones.

Dies

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, & Bigot.

Sal. Lords, I will meet him at S[aint]. Edmondsbury, It is our safetie, and we must embrace This gentle offer of the perillous time

Pem. Who brought that Letter from the Cardinall? Sal. The Count Meloone, a Noble Lord of France, Whose priuate with me of the Dolphines loue, Is much more generall, then these lines import

Big. To morrow morning let vs meete him then

Sal. Or rather then set forward, for 'twill be Two long dayes iourney (Lords) or ere we meete. Enter Bastard.

Bast. Once more to day well met, distemper'd Lords, The King by me requests your presence straight

Sal. The king hath dispossest himselfe of vs, We will not lyne his thin-bestained cloake With our pure Honors: nor attend the foote That leaues the print of blood where ere it walkes. Returne, and tell him so: we know the worst

Bast. What ere you thinke, good words I thinke were best

Sal. Our greefes, and not our manners reason now

Bast. But there is little reason in your greefe. Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now

Pem. Sir, sir, impatience hath his priuiledge

Bast. 'Tis true, to hurt his master, no mans else

Sal. This is the prison: What is he lyes heere? P. Oh death, made proud with pure & princely beuty, The earth had not a hole to hide this deede

Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done, Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge

Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to a graue, Found it too precious Princely, for a graue

Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld, Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke? Or do you almost thinke, although you see, That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect Forme such another? This is the very top, The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto the Crest Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame, The wildest Sauagery, the vildest stroke That euer wall-ey'd wrath, or staring rage Presented to the teares of soft remorse

Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this: And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable, Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie, To the yet vnbegotten sinne of times; And proue a deadly bloodshed, but a iest, Exampled by this heynous spectacle

Bast. It is a damned, and a bloody worke, The gracelesse action of a heauy hand, If that it be the worke of any hand

Sal. If that it be the worke of any hand? We had a kinde of light, what would ensue: It is the shamefull worke of Huberts hand, The practice, and the purpose of the king: From whose obedience I forbid my soule, Kneeling before this ruine of sweete life, And breathing to his breathlesse Excellence The Incense of a Vow, a holy Vow: Neuer to taste the pleasures of the world, Neuer to be infected with delight, Nor conuersant with Ease, and Idlenesse, Till I haue set a glory to this hand, By giuing it the worship of Reuenge

Pem. Big. Our soules religiously confirme thy words. Enter Hubert.

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste, in seeking you, Arthur doth liue, the king hath sent for you

Sal. Oh he is bold, and blushes not at death, Auant thou hatefull villain, get thee gone

Hu. I am no villaine

Sal. Must I rob the Law? Bast. Your sword is bright sir, put it vp againe

Sal. Not till I sheath it in a murtherers skin

Hub. Stand backe Lord Salsbury, stand backe I say By heauen, I thinke my sword's as sharpe as yours. I would not haue you (Lord) forget your selfe, Nor tempt the danger of my true defence; Least I, by marking of your rage, forget Your Worth, your Greatnesse, and Nobility

Big. Out dunghill: dar'st thou braue a Nobleman? Hub. Not for my life: But yet I dare defend My innocent life against an Emperor

Sal. Thou art a Murtherer

Hub. Do not proue me so: Yet I am none. Whose tongue so ere speakes false, Not truely speakes: who speakes not truly, Lies

Pem. Cut him to peeces

Bast. Keepe the peace, I say

Sal. Stand by, or I shall gaul you Faulconbridge

Bast. Thou wer't better gaul the diuell Salsbury. If thou but frowne on me, or stirre thy foote, Or teach thy hastie spleene to do me shame, Ile strike thee dead. Put vp thy sword betime, Or Ile so maule you, and your tosting-Iron, That you shall thinke the diuell is come from hell

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulconbridge? Second a Villaine, and a Murtherer? Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none

Big. Who kill'd this Prince? Hub. 'Tis not an houre since I left him well: I honour'd him, I lou'd him, and will weepe My date of life out, for his sweete liues losse

Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, For villanie is not without such rheume, And he, long traded in it, makes it seeme Like Riuers of remorse and innocencie. Away with me, all you whose soules abhorre Th' vncleanly sauours of a Slaughter-house, For I am stifled with this smell of sinne

Big. Away, toward Burie, to the Dolphin there

P. There tel the king, he may inquire vs out.

Ex. Lords.

Ba. Here's a good world: knew you of this faire work? Beyond the infinite and boundlesse reach of mercie, (If thou didst this deed of death) art y damn'd Hubert

Hub. Do but heare me sir

Bast. Ha? Ile tell thee what. Thou'rt damn'd as blacke, nay nothing is so blacke, Thou art more deepe damn'd then Prince Lucifer: There is not yet so vgly a fiend of hell As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this childe

Hub. Vpon my soule

Bast. If thou didst but consent To this most cruell Act: do but dispaire, And if thou want'st a Cord, the smallest thred That euer Spider twisted from her wombe Will serue to strangle thee: A rush will be a beame To hang thee on. Or wouldst thou drowne thy selfe, Put but a little water in a spoone, And it shall be as all the Ocean, Enough to stifle such a villaine vp. I do suspect thee very greeuously

Hub. If I in act, consent, or sinne of thought, Be guiltie of the stealing that sweete breath Which was embounded in this beauteous clay, Let hell want paines enough to torture me: I left him well

Bast. Go, beare him in thine armes: I am amaz'd me thinkes, and loose my way Among the thornes, and dangers of this world. How easie dost thou take all England vp, From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie? The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme Is fled to heauen: and England now is left To tug and scamble, and to part by th' teeth The vn-owed interest of proud swelling State: Now for the bare-pickt bone of Maiesty, Doth dogged warre bristle his angry crest, And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace: Now Powers from home, and discontents at home Meet in one line: and vast confusion waites As doth a Rauen on a sicke-falne beast, The iminent decay of wrested pompe. Now happy he, whose cloake and center can Hold out this tempest. Beare away that childe, And follow me with speed: Ile to the King: A thousand businesses are briefe in hand, And heauen it selfe doth frowne vpon the Land. Enter.

Actus Quartus, Scaena prima.

Enter King Iohn and Pandolph, attendants.

K.Iohn. Thus haue I yeelded vp into your hand The Circle of my glory

Pan. Take againe From this my hand, as holding of the Pope Your Soueraigne greatnesse and authoritie

Iohn. Now keep your holy word, go meet the French, And from his holinesse vse all your power To stop their marches 'fore we are enflam'd: Our discontented Counties doe reuolt: Our people quarrell with obedience, Swearing Allegiance, and the loue of soule To stranger-bloud, to forren Royalty; This inundation of mistempred humor, Rests by you onely to be qualified. Then pause not: for the present time's so sicke, That present medcine must be ministred, Or ouerthrow incureable ensues