The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
K. John. Bedlam, have done.

Const.

I have but this to say,

That he is not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her, the plague
On this removed issue, plagu'd for her,

And with her plague her sin: his injury

Her injury the beadle to her sin,

All punish'd in the person of this child,
And all for her, a plague upon her!

Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce

A will, that bars the title of thy son.

Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will; A woman's will: a canker'd grandam's will!

K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate. It ill beseems this presence, to ery aim

To these ill-tuned repetitions.

Some trumpet summon hither to the walls

These men of Angiers: let us hear them speak,
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's.

Trumpets sound. Enter Citizens upon the walls.
Cit. Who is it, that hath warn'd us to the walls?
K. Phi. 'Tis France, for England.

K. John.

England, for itself.

You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,

K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur's subjects, Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle.

K. John. For our advantage; therefore, hear us first. These flags of France, that are advanced here Before the eye and prospect of your town, Have hither march'd to your endamagement: The cannons have their bowels full of wrath, And ready mounted are they, to spit forth Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls:

All preparation for a bloody siege,

And merciless proceeding by these French,
Comfort your city's eyes, your winking gates;
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist do girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordnance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But, on the sight of us, your lawful king,
Who painfully, with much expedient march,
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks,
Behold, the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle ;
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words, folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king; whose labour'd spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,

Crave harbourage within your city walls.

K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both.

Lo! in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
Son to the elder brother of this man,
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys.
For this down-trodden equity, we tread

In warlike march these greens before your town;
Being no farther enemy to you,

Than the constraint of hospitable zeal,
In the relief of this oppressed child,
Religiously provokes. Be pleased, then,

To pay that duty, which you truly owe,

To him that owes it, namely, this young prince;
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,

Save in aspect, have all offence seal'd up:
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent
Against th' invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire,

With unhack'd swords, and helmets all unbruis'd,
We will bear home that lusty blood again,
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer,
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English, and their discipline,
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us; shall your city call us lord,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it,
Or shall we give the signal to our rage,
And stalk in blood to our possession?

Cit. In brief, we are the king of England's subjects: For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

K, John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.
Cit. That can we not; but he that proves the king,

To him will we prove loyal: till that time,

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

K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove the king?

And, if not that, I bring you witnesses,

Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed,

Bast. Bastards, and else.

K. John. To verify our title with their lives.

K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods as those,
Bast. Some bastards, too.

K. Phi.

Stand in his face to contradict his claim.

Cit. Till you compound whose right is worthiest,

We for the worthiest hold the right from both.

K. John. Then God forgive the sin of all those souls,

That to their everlasting residence

Before the dew of evening fall shall fleet,

In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king!

K. Phi. Amen, Amen. Mount, chevaliers! to arms!

Bast. St. George, that swing'd the dragon, and e'er since, Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door,

Teach us some fence! [To AUSTRIA.] Sirrah, were I at home, At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,

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

And make a monster of you.

Aust.

Peace! no more.

Bast. O tremble, for you hear the lion roar.

K. John. Up higher to the plain; where we 'll set forth

In best appointment all our regiments.

Bast. Speed, then, to take advantage of the field.

[To LEWIS.] and at the other hill God, and our right!

SCENE II.

The Same.

[Exeunt.

Alarums and Excursions; then a Retreat. Enter a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.

F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in,

Who by the hand of France this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground:
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth,
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display'd,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim

Arthur of Bretagne, England's king, and yours.

Enter an English Herald, with trumpets.

E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells: King John, your king and England's, doth approach, Commander of this hot malicious day.

Their armours, that march'd hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood.
There stuck no plume in any English crest,

That is removed by a staff of France:
Our colours do return in those same hands,

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

Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured:

Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer'd blows;
Strength match'd with strength, and power confronted power:
Both are alike; and both alike we like.

One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even,

We hold our town for neither, yet for both.

Enter, at one side, KING JOHN, with his power, ELINor,
BLANCH, and the Bastard; at the other, King PHILIP,
LEWIS, AUSTRIA, and forces.

K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right roam on?
Whose passage, vex'd with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep

A peaceful progress to the ocean.

K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav'd one drop of blood, In this hot trial, more than we of France;

Rather, lost more: and by this hand I swear,

That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,

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