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Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground :
Many a widow's husband groveling 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 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!

321 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, Dy'd in the dying slaughter of their foes :

330 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. 340 Enter the two Kings with their Powers, at several Doors.

K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast


Say, shall the current of our right run on?
Whose passage vext with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell
With course disturb'd even thy confining shores ;
Unless thou let bis silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean.
K. Phil. 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, 350
That sways the earth this climate overlooks
Before we will lay down by our just-borne arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms we

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.

Faulc. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers,
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
Oh, now doth death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his phangs; 360



And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men,
In undetermin'd differences of kings.
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
Cry, havock, 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! K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ? K. Phil. Speak, citizens, for England; who's

your king ? Cit. The king of England, when we know the king. K. Phil. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.

371 K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy, And bear possession of our person here ; Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

Cit. A greater power, than ye, denies all this; And, 'till it be undoubted, we do lock Our former scruple in our strong-barr'd gates : King'd of our fears ; until our fears, resolv'd, Be by some certain king purg'd and depos’d. Faulc. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings;

380 And stand securely on their battlements, As in a theatre, whence they gape and point At your industrious scenes and acts of death. Your royal presences be rul'd by me; Do like the mutines of Jerusalem, Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend


Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town :
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths ;
'Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd 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, 400
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?
K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our

I like it well :--France, shall we knit our powers,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground;
Then, after, fight who shall be king of it?

Faulc. An if thou hast the mettle of a kingBeing wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish townTurn thou the mouth of thy artillery,

410 As we will ours, against these saucy walls: And when that we have dash'd them to the ground, Why, then defy each other; and, pell-mell, Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or hell. K. Phil. Let it be so : Say, where will you assault?


K. John.

K. John. We from the west will send destruction Into this city's bosom.

Aust. I from the north.

K. Phil. Our thunder from the south, Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

420 Faulo. O prudent discipline ! From north to south; Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth :

[ Aside. I'll stir them to it: Come, away, away! Cit. Hear us, great kings : vouchsafe a while to

; stay, And I shall shew you peace, and fair-fac'd league ; Win you this city without stroke or wound; Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds, That here come sacrifices for the field : Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings. K. John. Speak on, with favour ; we are bent to hear.

430 Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the lady Blanch, Is near to England; Look upon Of Lewis the dauphin, and that lovely maid : If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? If zealous love should go in search of virtue, Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? If love ambitious sought a match of birth, Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch ? Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth, 440 Is the young dauphin every way complete: If not complete, oh say, he is not she;


the years

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