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Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids, (Who having no external thing to lose

581 But the word maid, cheats the poor maid of that) That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling commodityCominodity, the bias of the world; The world, who of itself is peised 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, From all direction, purpose, course, intent : 590 And this same bias, 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 resolv'd and honourable war, To a most base and vile-concluded peace.And why rail I on this commodity ? But for because he hath not woo'd me yet : Not that I have the power to clutch my hand, When his fair angels would salute my palm ; 600 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 ; 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.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

The French King's Pavilion.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY,

Constance. Gone to be marry'd ! gone to swear a peace ! False blood to false blood join'd ! Gone to be friends! Shall Lewis have Blanch ? and Blanch those pro.

vinces ? It is not so ; thou hast mis-spoke, mis-heard ; Be well advis'd, 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. Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, For I am sick, and capable of fears ; Oppress'd 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 vext 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 ? 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 ?

10

20

Be

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.

Sal. As true, as, I believe, you think them false, That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. On, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow, Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die;

30 And let belief and life encounter so, As doth the fury of two desperate men, Which, in the very meeting, fall, and die. Lewis marry Blanch! Oh, boy, then where art thou? France friend with England! what becomes of me? Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight; This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done, But spoke the harm that is by others done?

Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is, 40 As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content.

Const. If thou, that bidst 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, Patch'd 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. 50 But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! Nature and fortune join’d to make thee great : Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast,

And

And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, oh!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John ;
And with her golden hand hath pluck'd on France
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty,
And made his majesty the bawd to theirs.
France is á bawd to fortune, and king John;

60
That strumpet fortune, that usurping John:-
Tell me, thou fellow, is not France forsworn?
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone,
And leave those woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.

Sal. Pardon me, madam,
I anay not go without you to the kings.
Const. Thou may'st, thou shalt, I will not go with

thee :
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge firm earth
Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.

[Throws herself on the Ground. Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis, BLANCH,

ELINOR, FAULCONBRIDGE, and AUSTRIA. K. Phil. 'Tis true, fair daughter; and this blessed

day Ever in France shall be kept festival :

70

Те

To solemnize this day, the glorious sun
Stays in his course, and plays the alchymist;
Turning, with splendor of his precious eye, 80
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :
The yearly course, that brings this day about,
Shall never see it but a holy-day.
Const. A wicked day, and not a holy-day !-

[Rising
What hath this day deserv'd? what hath it done ;
That it in golden letters should be set,
Among the high tides, in the kalendar ;
Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week;
This day of shame, oppression, perjury :
Or, if it must stand still, let wives with child 90
Pray, that their burthens may not fall this day,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crost :
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break, that are not this day made :
This day, all things begun come to ill end;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

K. Phil. By heaven, lady, you shall have no cause To curse the fair proceedings of this day: Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ?

99 Const. You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit, Resembling majesty ; which, being touch'd, and

try'd,
Proves valueless : You are forsworn, forsworn;
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood,
But now in arms you strengthen it with your's :
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war,

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