The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works
Page 146
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms, 345
We’ll put thee down ’gainst whom these arms we
bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead,
Gracing the scroll that tells of this war’s loss
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
BASTARD
Ha, majesty! How high thy glory towers 350
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men
In undetermined differences of kings.
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry havoc, Kings! Back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other’s peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!
KING JOHN
Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?
KING PHILIP
Speak, citizens, for England: who’s your king?
⌈CITIZEN⌉
The King of England, when we know the King.
KING PHILIP
Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
KING JOHN
In us, that are our own great deputy
And bear possession of our person here,
Lord of our presence, Angers, and of you.
[CITIZEN⌉
A greater power than we denies all this,
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barred gates, 370
Kinged of our fear, until our fears resolved
Be by some certain king, purged and deposed.
BASTARD
By heaven, these scroyles of Angers flout you, Kings,
And stand securely on their battlements
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 375
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be ruled by me.
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem:
Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town. 380
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawled down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city.
I’d play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again;
Turn 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 favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy ?
KING JOHN
Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well.-France, shall we knit our powers,
And lay this Angers even with the ground,
Then after fight who shall be king of it?
BASTARD (to King Philip)
An if thou hast the mettle of a king,
Being wronged as we are by this peevish town,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,
As we will ours, against these saucy walls;
And when that we have dashed them to the ground,
Why, then defy each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.
KING PHILIP
Let it be so.-Say, where will you assault?
KING JOHN
We from the west will send destruction
Into this city’s bosom.
AUSTRIA I from the north.
KING PHILIP Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.
BASTARD ⌈to King John⌉
O prudent discipline! From north to south
Austria and France shoot in each other’s mouth.
I’ll stir them to it. Come, away, away!
⌈CITIZEN⌉
Hear us, great Kings, vouchsafe a while to stay,
And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league.
Win you this city without stroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, 420
That here come sacrifices for the field.
Persever not, but hear me, mighty Kings.
KING JOHN
Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear.
⌈CITIZEN⌉
That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanche,
Is niece to England. Look upon the years 425
Of Louis the Dauphin and that lovely maid.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanche?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanche? 430
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanche?
Such as she is in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete;
If not complete, O, say he is not she; 435
And she again wants nothing—to name want—
If want it be not that she is not he.
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she;
And she a fair divided excellence, 440
Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents when they join
Do glorify the banks that bound them in,
And two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds, shall you be, Kings, 445
To these two princes if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can
To our fast-closed gates, for at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope, 450
And give you entrance. But without this match
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion, no, not Death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory, 455
As we to keep this city.
BASTARD ⌈aside⌉ Here’s a stay
That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death
Out of his rags. Here’s a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth Death and mountains, rocks and seas,
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions 460
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon: fire, and smoke, and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgelled; not a word of his 465
But buffets better than a fist of France.
Zounds! I was never so bethumped with words
Since I first called my brother’s father Dad.
QUEEN ELEANOR (aside to King John)
Son, list to this conjunction, make this match,
Give with our niece a dowry large enough; 470
For, by this knot, thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsured assurance to the crown
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France; 475
Mark how they whisper. Urge them while their souls
Are capable of this amb
ition,
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
⌈CITIZEN⌉
Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threatened town?
KING PHILIP
Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: what say you?
KING JOHN
If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son, 485
Can in this book of beauty read ‘I love’,
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen;
For Anjou and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitou,
And all that we upon this side the sea—
Except this city now by us besieged—490
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world. 495
KING PHILIP
What sayst thou, boy? Look in the lady’s face.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself formed in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son, 500
Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow.
I do protest I never loved myself
Till now enfixèd I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.
He whispers with Blanche
BASTARD (aside)
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye, 505
Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,
And quartered in her heart: he doth espy
Himself love’s traitor. This is pity now,
That hanged and drawn and quartered there should be
In such a love so vile a lout as he. 510
BLANCHE (to Louis the Dauphin)
My uncle’s will in this respect is mine.
If he see aught in you that makes him like,
That anything he sees which moves his liking
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or if you will, to speak more properly,
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this: that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your
judge, 520
That I can find should merit any hate.
KING JOHN
What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?
BLANCHE
That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say.
KING JOHN
Speak then, Prince Dauphin, can you love this lady?
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love, 526
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
KING JOHN
Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,
Poitou, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee, and this addition more: 530
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.
Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
KING PHILIP
It likes us well.—Young princes, close your hands.
AUSTRIA
And your lips too, for I am well assured 535
That I did so when I was first assured.
⌈Louis the Dauphin and Lady Blanche join hands and kiss⌉
KING PHILIP
Now citizens of Angers, ope your gates.
Let in that amity which you have made,
For at Saint Mary’s chapel presently
The rites of marriage shall be solemnized.—540
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?
(Aside) I know she is not, for this match made up
Her presence would have interrupted much.
(Aloud) Where is she and her son ? Tell me who knows.
LOUIS THE DAUPHIN
She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent. 545
KING PHILIP
And by my faith this league that we have made
Will give her sadness very little cure.—
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? In her right we came,
Which we, God knows, have turned another way 550
To our own vantage.
KING JOHN We will heal up all,
For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Brittaine
And Earl of Richmond, and this rich fair town
We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance.
Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity. I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we as well as haste will suffer us 560
To this unlooked-for, unprepared pomp.
⌈Flourish.⌉ Exeunt all but the Bastard
BASTARD
Mad world, mad kings, mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part;
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field 566
As God’s own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all, 570
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,—
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word ‘maid’, cheats the poor maid of that—
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodity;
Commodity, the bias of the world, 575
The world who of itself is peisèd well,
Made to run even upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency, 580
From all direction, purpose, course, intent;
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapped on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid, 585
From a resolved and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not wooed me yet—
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand 590
When his fair angels would salute my palm,
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar I will rail,
And say there is no sin but to be rich, 595
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee. Exit
2.2 Enter Lady Constance, Arthur Duke of Brittaine, and the Earl of Salisbury
CONSTANCE (to Salisbury)
Gone to be married? Gone to swear a peace?
False blood to false blood joined! Gone to be friends?
Shall Louis have Blanche, and Blanche those
provinces?
It is not so, thou hast misspoke, misheard.
Be well advised, tell o‘er thy tale again.
It cannot be, thou dost but say ’tis so.
I trust I may not trust thee, for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man.
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king’s oath to the contrary. 10
Thou shalt be punished for thus frighting me;
For I am sick and capable of fears;
Oppressed with wrongs, and therefore full of fears;
A widow husbandless, subject to fears;
A woman naturally born to fears;
And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vexed spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 20
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o’er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again—not all thy former tale,
But this one word: whether thy tale be true.
SALISBURY
As true as I believe you think them false
That give you cause to prove my saying true.
CONSTANCE
O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die;
And let belief and life encounter so
As doth the fury of two desperate men
Which in the very meeting fall and die.
Louis marry Blanche! (To Arthur) O boy, then where
art thou?
France friend with England!—What becomes of me?
(To Salisbury) Fellow, be gone, I cannot brook thy
sight; 36
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.
SALISBURY
What other harm have I, good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that is by others done?
CONSTANCE
Which harm within itself so heinous is 40
As it makes harmful all that speak of it.
ARTHUR
I do beseech you, madam, be content.
CONSTANCE
If thou that bidd‘st me be content wert grim,
Ugly and sland’rous to thy mother’s womb,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,
Patched with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content,
For then I should not love thee, no, nor thou
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown.
But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy,
Nature and Fortune joined to make thee great.
Of Nature’s gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose. But Fortune, O,
She is corrupted, changed, and won from thee;
Sh’adulterates hourly with thine uncle John,