Enter PANDULPH, attended.
And even there, methinks, an angel spake:
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven;
And on our actions fet the name of right,
Hail! noble prince of France!
The next is this,-king John hath reconcil'd
Himself to Rome; his fpirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church,
The great metropolis and fee of Rome :
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up,
And tame the favage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in fhow.
Lew. Your grace fhall pardon me, I will not back;
I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a fecondary at control,
Or useful ferving-man, and inftrument,
To any fovereign ftate throughout the world.
Your breath firft kindled the dead coal of wars
Between this cháftis'd kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;"
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that fame weak wind which enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with int'reft to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
And, now it is half-conquer'd, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome ?
Am I Rome's flave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition fent,
To underprop this action? is't not I,
That undergo this charge? who else but I,
And fuch as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders fhout out,
Vive le roy! as I have bank'd their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game,
To win this easy match play'd for a crown ?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded fet?
No, on my foul, it never fhall be faid.
Pand. You look but on the outfide of this work.
Lew. Outfide or infide, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be glorified
As to my ample hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And cull'd these firy spirits from the world,
To outlook conqueft, and to win renown
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.—
What lufty trumpet thus doth fummon us?
Enter the Baftard, attended.
Baft. According to the fair play of the world,
Let me have audience; I am fent to speak :-
My holy lord of Milan, from the king
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him ;
And, as you answer, I do know the scope
And warrant limited unto my tongue.
Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-oppofite, And will not temporize with my entreaties; He flatly fays, he'll not lay down his arms.
Baft. By all the blood that ever fury breath'd, The youth fays well :-Now hear our English king; For thus his royalty doth speak in me.
He is prepar'd; and reason too, he should:
This apifh and unmannerly approach,
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel,
This unhair'd faucinefs, and boyish troops,
The king doth smile at; and is well prepar'd
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,
From out the circle of his territories.
That hand, which had the strength, even at your door,
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch;
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells;
To crouch in litter of your ftable planks;
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and trunks;
To hug with fwine; to feek sweet safety out
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill, and shake,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow,
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ;-
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here,
That in your chambers gave you chastisement ?
No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms;
And like an eagle o'er his aiery towers,
To foufe annoyance that comes near his neft.
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame:
For your own ladies, and pale-vifag'd maids,
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums;
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts
To fierce and bloody inclination.
Lew. There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; We grant, thou canst outfcold us: fare thee well;
We hold our time too precious to be spent
With fuch a brabbler.
We will attend to neither:--
Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war
Plead for our intereft, and our being here.
Baft. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;
And fo fhall you, being beaten: Do but start
An echo with the clamour of thy drum,
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd,
That fhall reverberate all as loud as thine;
Sound but another, and another shall,
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's ear,
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder: for at hand
(Not trufting to this halting legate here,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need,)
Is warlike John; and in his forehead fits
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day
To feast upon whole thousands of the French.
Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this danger out.
Baft. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.
The fame. A Field of Battle.
Alarums. Enter King JOHN and HUBERT.
K. John. How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert. Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty?
K. John. This fever, that hath troubled me fo long, Lies heavy on me; O, my heart is fick !
Me. My lord, your valiant kinfman, Faulconbridge, Defires your majefty to leave the field;
And fend him word by me, which way you go.
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.
Mej. Be of good comfort; for the great supply,
That was expected by the Dauphin here,
Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin fands.
This news was brought to Richard but even now:
The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.
K. John. Ah me! this tyrant fever burns me up,
And will not let me welcome this good news.
Set on toward Swinftead: to my litter straight;
Weakness poffeffeth me, and I am faint.
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