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K. 7ohn. Then God forgive the Sin of all those Souls,.. That to their everlasting Relidence, Before the Dew of Evening fall, shall fl et In dreadful Trial of our Kingdom's King.
K. Philip. Amen, Amen. Mount Chevaliers to Arms.
Bast. Saint George that swing'd the Dragon,
Aid e'er fince fits on's Horseback at mine Hostess Door,
Teach us some Fence. Sirrah, were I at home
Ac your Den, Sirrah, with your Lioness,
I would set an Ox-Head to your Lion's Hide,
And make a Monter of you.
Hust. Peace, no more.
Bast. O tremble; for you hear the Lion roar.
K John. Up higher to the Plain, where we'll set forth,
In best Appointment, all our Regiments.
Balt. Speed then to take Advantage of the Field.
K. Philip. It shall be so; and at the other Hill Command the rest to stand. God and our right. [Exeunt. · Here, after Excursions, enter the Herald of France with
Trumpets to the Gates.
F. Her. You Men of Angiers, open wide your Gates,
And let young Arthur, Duke of Britain, in;
Who by the Hand of France, this Day hath made
Much Work for Tears in many an English Mother,
Whole Sons lye fcat:er'd on the bleeding Ground:
Maliy a Widow's Husband groveling lyes,
Coldly embracing the discolour'd Earth,
And Victory with little Loss doth play
Upon the dancing Banners of the French,
Who are at hand criumphantly d splay'd
To enter Conquerors; and to proclaim
Arthur of Britain, England's King, and yours.
Enter English Herald with Trumpet.
E. Her. Rejoyce, you Men of digiers; riog your Bells;
King John, your King, and England's, doch approach,
Commander of this hot malicious Day.
Their Armours, that march'd hence lo Silver bright, .
Hiher return all gile in Frenchmens Blood.
There fluck no Plume in any Englisl, Cselt,
That is removed by a Saf of France.
Our Colours do return in those fums Hauds
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.
Open your Gates, and give the Vi&ors Way.
Citi. Heralds, from off our Towers we might behold
From first to last, the Ooset 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
Both are alike, and both alike we like;
[Power. One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even, We hold our Town for neither; yet for both.
Enter the two Kings with their Powers at several Doors.
K. John. France, hast thou yet more Blood to cart away? 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 his Silver Water keep A peaceful Progress to the Ocean.
K. Philip. 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,
That sways the Earth this Climate overlook',
Before we will lay down our just-born Arms,
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these Arms we bear,
Or add a Royal Number to the dead;
Gracing the Scroul that tells of this War's loss, .
With Slaughter coupled to the Name of Kings.
Baft. 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,
And now he feasts, mousing the Flesh of Men
In undetermio'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 :
The others. Whofé Pariyens, for Englande know the Right.
Then let Confusion of one Part confirm
The other's Peace; 'till then, Blows, Blood, and Death.
K. John. Whofe Party do the Townsmen yet admit?
K. Philip. Speak Citizens, for England, who's your King ?
Citi. The King of England, when we know the King.
K. Philip. Know him in us, that here hold up his Right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great Depury,
And bear Possession of our Person here,
Lord of our Presence, Angiers, and of you.
Citi. A greater Power than we denies all this;
And 'till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former Scruple in our strong barr'd Gates:
Kings of our Fear, until our Fears resolv'd
Be by some certain King purgid and depos’d.
Bast. By Heav’n, these Scroyles of Angiers flout you Kings,
And stand fecurely on their Battlements,
As in a Theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious Scenes, and Ads of Death.
You Royal Presences be ruld by me;
Do like the Mutiners of Jerusalem,
Be Friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your Tharpest 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 braul'd down
The Alinty Ribs of this contemptuous City.
I'd play incessantly upon these Jades;
Even 'till unfenced Desolation
Le:ve them as naked as the vulgar Air:
That done, dillever your united Strengths,
Ard part your mingled Colours once again.
Tud Face to Face, and bloody Point to Point;
Then in a Momene Fortune shall cull forth,
0.it of one side, her happy Minion,
To whom in favour she shall give the Day,
And kill him with a glorious Vi&ory.
How like you this wild Counsel, mighty States;
Smacks is not something of the Policy?
K. 7ohn. Now by the Sky that hangs above our Heads, I like it well. France, shall we knit our Powers, And lay this Angiers even with the Ground,
lan till unfencibed as the vole Strengths,
Then after fight who shall be King of it?
Baft. And if thou haft the Mettle of a Kirg,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peevith Town,
Turn thou the Mouth of thy Artillery,
As we will ours, againlt these saucy Walls;
And when that we have dash'd them to the Ground,
Why then defie each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon our selves for Heav'n or Hell.
K. Philip. Let it be so; say, where will you assault?
K. John. We from the West will send Deftru&ion Into this City's Bosom.
Auft. I from the North.
K. Philip. Our Thunder from the South,
Shall rain their Drift of Bullets on this Town.
Baft. O prudent Discipline! From North to South ;
Auftria and France shoot in each others Mouth,
I'll stir them to it; come away, away.
Citi. Hear us great Kings, vouchfife a while to stay,
And I shall shew you Peace, and fair.fac'd League.
Win you this City without Stroak or Wound;
Rescue those breathing Lives to die in Beds,
That here come Sacrifices for the Field;
Persevere not, but hear me, mighty Kings.
K. John. Speak ou; with Favour we are bent to hear.
Citi, That Daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch,
Is near to England, look upon the Years
Of Lewis the Dauphin, and that lovely Maid.
If lufty Love should go in quest of Beauty,
Where could he find it fairer, than in Blanch3
If zealous Love should go in search of Virtue,
Where could he find it purer than in Blanch?
If Love ambitious, sought a Match of Birth,
Whose Veins bound sicher Blood than Lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in Beauty, Virtue, Birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way compleat;
If not complcat of, say he is not she;
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 blefed Man,
Left to be finished by such as fhe;
And she a fair divided Excellence,
Whose fulness of Perfe&ion lyes in him.
O two such Silver Currents, when they join,
Do glorifie the Banks that bound them in:
And two such Shores, to two such Screams made one,
Two such controlling Bounds shall you be, Kings,
To these two Princes, if you marry them:
This Union shall do more than Battery can,
To our fast closed Gates: For at this March,
With swister Spleen than Powder can enforce,
The Mouth of Paslage shall we ffing wide ope, .
And give you entrance; but without this Match,
The Sea enraged is not half to deaf,
Lions more confident, Mountains and Rocks
More free from Mocion, no not Death himself
In mortal Fury half lo peremptory,
As we to keep this City.
Baft. Here's a Stay,
That shakes the rotten Carkass of old Death
Out of his Rags. Here's a large Mouth indeed,
That spits forth Death, and Mountains, Rocks, and Seas,
Talks as familiary of roaring Lions,
As Maids of thirteen do of Puppy-dogs.
What Cannoneer begot this lusty Blood,
H speal's plain Cannon fire, and smoak, and bounce,
He gives the Bastinado with his Tongue:
Our Ears are cudgeld, not a Word of his
But buffets better than a Fist of France;
Zounds I was never so bethumpt with Words,
Since I firtt call'd my Brother's Father Dad.
Eli. Son, lift to this Conjunctior, make this Match, Give with our Neice a Dowry large enough; For by this Koor, thou shalt so surely tie Thy row unsur'd Assurance to the Crown, That yon green Boy shall have no Sun to ripe The Bloom that premiseth a mighty Fruit: I see a yielding in the looks of France; Mark how they whisper, urge them while their Souls Are capable of his Ambition, Lep Zeal now melted by the windy breath Of fost Petitions, Pity and Remorse, Cool and congeal again to what it was.