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And give you entrance; but without this match, The fea enraged is not half fo deaf,

Lions fo confident, mountains and rocks

So free from motion; no, not death himself
In mortal fury half fo peremptory,

As we to keep this City.

Faulc. Here's a stay 3,

That shakes the rotten carcafs of old Death
Out of his rags. Here's a large mouth, indeed,
That fpits forth death, and mountains, rocks and feas
Talks as familiarly of roaring Lions,

As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs.
What Cannoneer begot this lufty blood?
He speaks plain cannon-fire, and fmoak and bounce,
He gives the baftinado with his tongue :
Our ears are cudgel'd; not a word of his,
But buffets better than a fift of France;
Zounds! I was never fo bethumpt with words,
Since I first call'd my brother's father dad.

Eli. Son, lift to this conjunction, make this match, Give with our Neice a dowry large enough;

For by this knot thou fhalt fo furely tie

Thy now unfur'd affurance to the Crown,

That yon green boy fhall have no Sun to ripe
The bloom, that promifeth a mighty fruit.
I fee a Yielding in the looks of France;

Mark, how they whisper; urge them, while their fouls
Are capable of this ambition;

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Left zeal now melted by the windy breath
Of foft petitions, pity and remorfe,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.

Cit. Why answer not the double Majefties
This friendly Treaty of our threaten'd town?

K. Philip. Speak, England, firft, that hath been forward first

To fpeak unto this City: what fay you?

K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy Princely fon,
Can in this book of beauty read, I love;
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a Queen.
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers',
And all that we upon this fide the fea,

Except this City now by us befieg'd,
Find liable to our Crown and Dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,

As fhe in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any Princess of the world:

K. Philip. What fay'ft thou, boy? look in the lady's
face.

Lewis. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle;
The fhadow of myself form'd in her eye;
Which, being but the fhadow of your fon,

a

9 Left zeal now melted. -] We have here a very unusual, and, I think, not very just image of zeal, which in its highest degree is reprefented by others as flame, but by Shakespeare as a froft. To reprefs zeal, in the language of others, is to cool, in Shak fpeare's to melt it; when it exerts its utmoft power it is commonly faid to flame, but by ShakeSpeare to be congealed.

I
' In old editions,
For ANGIERS and fair Tou-
raine, Maine, Foictiers,

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Becomes a Sun, and makes your fon á shadow.
I do protest, I never lov'd myself,
Till now, infixed, I beheld myfelf,

Drawn in the flatt'ring table of her eye.

[Whispering with Blanch.

Faulc. Drawn in the flatt'ring table of her eye! Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow! And quarter'd in her heart! he doth espie Himself love's traitor: this is pity now,

That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there fhould be, In fuch a Love, fo vile a lout as he.

Blanch. My uncle's will in this refpect is mine. If he fee aught in you, that makes him like, That any thing he fees, which moves his liking, I can with eafe tranflate 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 fee in you is worthy love, Than this; that nothing do I fee in you (Though churlish thoughts themselves fhould be your judge)

That I can find fhould merit any hate.

K. John. What fay these young Ones? what say you, my Niece?

Blanch. That fhe is bound in Honour ftill to do What you in wifdom ftill vouchsafe to say.

K. John. Speak then, Prince Dauphin, can you love this lady?

Lewis. Nay, afk me, if I can refrain from love? For I do love her moft unfeignedly.

K. John. Then do I give Volqueffen, Touraine, Maine, Poitiers, and Anjou, these five Provinces, With her to thee; and this addition more, Full thirty thousand Marks of English coin. Philip of France, if thou be pleas'd withal, Command thy Son and Daughter to join hands.

F12

K. Philip.

K. Philip. It likes us well; young Princes, clofe your hands.

Auft. And your lips too; for, I am well affur'd, That I did fo, when I was first affur'd.

K. Philip. Now, Citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made:
For at Saint Mary's Chapel prefently
The Rites of Marriage fhall be folemniz'd.
Is not the lady Conftance in this troop?

I know, fhe is not; for this Match made up
Her prefence would have interrupted much.
Where is the and her fon, tell me, who knows?
Lewis. She's fad and paffionate at your Highness'

Tent.

K. Philip. And, by my faith, this league, that we have made,

Will give her fadness very little Cure.

Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? in her Right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turn'd another way
To our own vantage.

K. John. We will heal up all,

For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britain,
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of. Call the lady Conftance;
Some speedy Meffenger bid her repair
To our Solemnity: I truft, we fhall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in fome measure fatisfie her fo,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as hafte will fuffer us,
To this unlook'd-for, unprepared, Pomp.

[Exeunt all but Faulconbridge.

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Faulce. Mad world, mad Kings, mad compofition!

John,

John, to stop Arthur's Title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part:

And France, whofe armour Confcience buckled on,
Whom Zeal and Charity brought to the field,
As God's own foldier, rounded in the ear
With that fame purpofe-changer, that fly devil,
That broker, that ftill breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,

Of Kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lofe

But the word Maid, cheats the poor maid of that ;
That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling Commodity,-
Commodity, the biafs of the world,

The world, which of itself is poifed well,
Made to run even, upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing biafs,
This fway of motion, this Commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this fame biafs, this Commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapt on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a refolv'd and honourable war,
To a moft bafe 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,
When his fair angels would falute my palm;
But that my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, while I am a beggar, I will rail;
And fay, there is no fin but to be rich:
And being rich, my virtue then shall be,
To fay, there is no vice, but beggary.
Since Kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord; for I will worship thee!

Ff3

[Exit.

ACT

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