Now , say , Chatillon , what would France with us ?

Thus , after greeting , speaks the King of France ,
In my behaviour , to the majesty ,
The borrow'd majesty of England here .

A strange beginning ; 'borrow'd majesty !' 

Silence , good mother ; hear the embassy .

Philip of France , in right and true behalf 
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son ,
Arthur Plantagenet , lays most lawful claim 
To this fair island and the territories ,
To Ireland , Poictiers , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ;
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword 
Which sways usurpingly these several titles ,
And put the same into young Arthur's hand ,
Thy nephew and right royal sovereign .

What follows if we disallow of this ?

The proud control of fierce and bloody war ,
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld .

Here have we war for war , and blood for blood ,
Controlment for controlment : so answer France .

Then take my king's defiance from my mouth ,
The furthest limit of my embassy .

Bear mine to him , and so depart in peace :
Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ;
For ere thou canst report I will be there ,
The thunder of my cannon shall be heard .
So , hence ! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath 
And sullen presage of your own decay .
An honourable conduct let him have :
Pembroke , look to't . Farewell , Chatillon .


What now , my son ! have I not ever said 
How that ambitious Constance would not cease 
Till she had kindled France and all the world 
Upon the right and party of her son ?
This might have been prevented and made whole 
With very easy arguments of love ,
Which now the manage of two kingdoms must 
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate .

Our strong possession and our right for us .

Your strong possession much more than your right ,
Or else it must go wrong , with you and me :
So much my conscience whispers in your ear ,
Which none but heaven and you and I shall hear .


My liege , here is the strangest controversy ,
Come from the country to be judg'd by you ,
That e'er I heard : shall I produce the men ?

Let them approach .

Our abbeys and our priories shall pay 
This expedition's charge .

What men are you ?

Your faithful subject I , a gentleman 
Born in Northamptonshire , and eldest son ,
As I suppose , to Robert Faulconbridge ,
A soldier , by the honour-giving hand 
Of C ur-de-Lion knighted in the field .

What art thou ?

The son and heir to that same Faulconbridge .

Is that the elder , and art thou the heir ?
You came not of one mother then , it seems .

Most certain of one mother , mighty king ,
That is well known : and , as I think , one father :
But for the certain knowledge of that truth 
I put you o'er to heaven and to my mother :
Of that I doubt , as all men's children may .

Out on thee , rude man ! thou dost shame thy mother 
And wound her honour with this diffidence .

I , madam ? no , I have no reason for it ;
That is my brother's plea and none of mine ;
The which if he can prove , a' pops me out 
At least from fair five hundred pound a year :
Heaven guard my mother's honour and my land !

A good blunt fellow . Why , being younger born ,
Doth he lay claim to thine inheritance ?

I know not why , except to get the land .
But once he slander'd me with bastardy :
But whe'r I be as true-begot or no ,
That still I lay upon my mother's head ;
But that I am as well-begot , my liege ,
Fair fall the bones that took the pains for me !
Compare our faces and be judge yourself .
If old Sir Robert did beget us both ,
And were our father , and this son like him ;
O old Sir Robert , father , on my knee 
I give heaven thanks I was not like to thee !

Why , what a madcap hath heaven lent us here !

He hath a trick of C ur-de-Lion's face ;
The accent of his tongue affecteth him .
Do you not read some tokens of my son 
In the large composition of this man ?

Mine eye hath well examined his parts ,
And finds them perfect Richard . Sirrah , speak :
What doth move you to claim your brother's land ?

Because he hath a half-face , like my father .
With half that face would he have all my land ;
A half-fac'd groat five hundred pound a year !

My gracious liege , when that my father liv'd ,
Your brother did employ my father much ,

Well , sir , by this you cannot get my land :
Your tale must be how he employ'd my mother .

And once dispatch'd him in an embassy 
To Germany , there with the emperor 
To treat of high affairs touching that time .
The advantage of his absence took the king ,
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my father's ;
Where how he did prevail I shame to speak ,
But truth is truth : large lengths of seas and shores 
Between my father and my mother lay ,
As I have heard my father speak himself ,
When this same lusty gentleman was got .
Upon his death-bed he by will bequeath'd 
His lands to me , and took it on his death 
That this my mother's son was none of his ;
An if he were , he came into the world 
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time .
Then , good my liege , let me have what is mine ,
My father's land , as was my father's will .

Sirrah , your brother is legitimate ;
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him ,
And if she did play false , the fault was hers ;
Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbands 
That marry wives . Tell me , how if my brother ,
Who , as you say , took pains to get this son ,
Had of your father claim'd this son for his ?
In sooth , good friend , your father might have kept 
This calf bred from his cow from all the world ;
In sooth he might : then , if he were my brother's ,
My brother might not claim him ; nor your father ,
Being none of his , refuse him : this concludes ;
My mother's son did get your father's heir ;
Your father's heir must have your father's land .

Shall then my father's will be of no force 
To dispossess that child which is not his ?

Of no more force to dispossess me , sir ,
Than was his will to get me , as I think .

Whe'r hadst thou rather be a Faulconbridge 
And like thy brother , to enjoy thy land ,
Or the reputed son of C ur-de-Lion ,
Lord of thy presence and no land beside ?

Madam , an if my brother had my shape ,
And I had his , Sir Robert his , like him ;
And if my legs were two such riding-rods ,
My arms such eel-skins stuff'd , my face so thin 
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose 
Lest men should say , 'Look , where three-far-things goes !' 
And , to his shape , were heir to all this land ,
Would I might never stir from off this place ,
I'd give it every foot to have this face :
I would not be Sir Nob in any case .

I like thee well : wilt thou forsake thy fortune ,
Bequeath thy land to him , and follow me ?
I am a soldier and now bound to France .

Brother , take you my land , I'll take my chance .
Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year ,
Yet sell your face for five pence and 'tis dear .
Madam , I'll follow you unto the death .

Nay , I would have you go before me thither .

Our country manners give our betters way .

What is thy name ?

Philip , my liege , so is my name begun ;
Philip , good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son .

From henceforth bear his name whose form thou bearest :
Kneel thou down Philip , but arise more great ;
Arise Sir Richard , and Plantagenet .

Brother by the mother's side , give me your hand :
My father gave me honour , yours gave land .
Now blessed be the hour , by night or day ,
When I was got , Sir Robert was away !

The very spirit of Plantagenet !
I am thy grandam , Richard : call me so .

Madam , by chance but not by truth ; what though ?
Something about , a little from the right ,
In at the window , or else o'er the hatch :
Who dares not stir by day must walk by night ,
And have is have , however men do catch .
Near or far off , well won is still well shot ,
And I am I , howe'er I was begot .

Go , Faulconbridge : now hast thou thy desire ;
A landless knight makes thee a landed squire .
Come , madam , and come , Richard : we must speed 
For France , for France , for it is more than need .

Brother , adieu : good fortune come to thee !
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty .

A foot of honour better than I was ,
But many a many foot of land the worse .
Well , now can I make any Joan a lady .
'Good den , Sir Richard !' 'God-a-mercy , fellow !' 
And if his name be George , I'll call him Peter ;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names :
'Tis too respective and too sociable 
For your conversion . Now your traveller ,
He and his toothpick at my worship's mess ,
And when my knightly stomach is suffic'd ,
Why then I suck my teeth , and catechize 
My picked man of countries : 'My dear sir ,' 
Thus , leaning on mine elbow , I begin ,
'I shall beseech you ,' that is question now ;
And then comes answer like an absey-book :
'O , sir ,' says answer , 'at your best command ;
At your employment ; at your service , sir :' 
'No , sir ,' says question , 'I , sweet sir , at yours :' 
And so , ere answer knows what question would ,
Saving in dialogue of compliment ,
And talking of the Alps and Apennines ,
The Pyrenean and the river Po ,
It draws toward supper in conclusion so .
But this is worshipful society 
And fits the mounting spirit like myself ;
For he is but a bastard to the time ,
That doth not smack of observation ;
And so am I , whether I smack or no ;
And not alone in habit and device ,
Exterior form , outward accoutrement ,
But from the inward motion to deliver 
Sweet , sweet , sweet poison for the age's tooth :
Which , though I will not practise to deceive ,
Yet , to avoid deceit , I mean to learn ;
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising .
But who comes in such haste in riding-robes ?
What woman-post is this ? hath she no husband 
That will take pains to blow a horn before her ?


O me ! it is my mother . How now , good lady !

What brings you here to court so hastily ?

Where is that slave , thy brother ? where is he ,
That holds in chase mine honour up and down ?

My brother Robert ? old Sir Robert's son ?
Colbrand the giant , that same mighty man ?
Is it Sir Robert's son that you seek so ?

Sir Robert's son ! Ay , thou unreverend boy ,
Sir Robert's son : why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert ?
He is Sir Robert's son , and so art thou .

James Gurney , wilt thou give us leave awhile ?

Good leave , good Philip .

Philip ! sparrow ! James ,
There's toys abroad : anon I'll tell thee more .

Madam , I was not old Sir Robert's son :
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me 
Upon Good-Friday and ne'er broke his fast .
Sir Robert could do well : marry , to confess ,
Could he get me ? Sir Robert could not do it :
We know his handiwork : therefore , good mother ,
To whom am I beholding for these limbs ?
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg .

Hast thou conspired with thy brother too ,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour ?
What means this scorn , thou most untoward knave ?

Knight , knight , good mother , Basilisco-like .
What ! I am dubb'd ; I have it on my shoulder .
But , mother , I am not Sir Robert's son ;
I have disclaim'd Sir Robert and my land ;
Legitimation , name , and all is gone .
Then , good my mother , let me know my father ;
Some proper man , I hope ; who was it , mother ?

Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge ?

As faithfully as I deny the devil .

King Richard C ur-de-Lion was thy father :
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd 
To make room for him in my husband's bed .
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge !
Thou art the issue of my dear offence ,
Which was so strongly urg'd past my defence .

Now , by this light , were I to get again ,
Madam , I would not wish a better father .
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth ,
And so doth yours ; your fault was not your folly :
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose ,
Subjected tribute to commanding love ,
Against whose fury and unmatched force 
The aweless lion could not wage the fight ,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand .
He that perforce robs lions of their hearts 
May easily win a woman's . Ay , my mother ,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father !
Who lives and dares but say thou didst not well 
When I was got , I'll send his soul to hell .
Come , lady , I will show thee to my kin ;
And they shall say , when Richard me begot ,
If thou hadst said him nay , it had been sin :
Who says it was , he lies : I say , 'twas not .


Before Angiers well met , brave Austria .
Arthur , that great forerunner of thy blood ,
Richard , that robb'd the lion of his heart 
And fought the holy wars in Palestine ,
By this brave duke came early to his grave :
And , for amends to his posterity ,
At our importance hither is he come ,
To spread his colours , boy , in thy behalf ,
And to rebuke the usurpation 
Of thy unnatural uncle , English John :
Embrace him , love him , give him welcome hither .

God shall forgive you C ur-de-Lion's death 
The rather that you give his offspring life ,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war .
I give you welcome with a powerless hand ,
But with a heart full of unstained love :
Welcome before the gates of Angiers , duke .

A noble boy ! Who would not do thee right ?

Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss ,
As seal to this indenture of my love ,
That to my home I will no more return 
Till Angiers , and the right thou hast in France ,
Together with that pale , that white-fac'd shore ,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides 
And coops from other lands her islanders ,
Even till that England , hedg'd in with the main ,
That water-walled bulwark , still secure 
And confident from foreign purposes ,
Even till that utmost corner of the west 
Salute thee for her king : till then , fair boy ,
Will I not think of home , but follow arms .

O ! take his mother's thanks , a widow's thanks ,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength 
To make a more requital to your love .

The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords 
In such a just and charitable war .

Well then , to work : our cannon shall be bent 
Against the brows of this resisting town .
Call for our chiefest men of discipline ,
To cull the plots of best advantages :
We'll lay before this town our royal bones ,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's blood ,
But we will make it subject to this boy .

Stay for an answer to your embassy ,
Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood .
My Lord Chatillon may from England bring 
That right in peace which here we urge in war ;
And then we shall repent each drop of blood 
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed .


A wonder , lady ! lo , upon thy wish ,
Our messenger , Chatillon , is arriv'd !
What England says , say briefly , gentle lord ;
We coldly pause for thee ; Chatillon , speak .

Then turn your forces from this paltry siege 
And stir them up against a mightier task .
England , impatient of your just demands ,
Hath put himself in arms : the adverse winds ,
Whose leisure I have stay'd , have given him time 
To land his legions all as soon as I ;
His marches are expedient to this town ,
His forces strong , his soldiers confident .
With him along is come the mother-queen ,
An Ate , stirring him to blood and strife ;
With her her niece , the Lady Blanch of Spain ;
With them a bastard of the king's deceas'd ;
And all the unsettled humours of the land ,
Rash , inconsiderate , fiery voluntaries ,
With ladies' faces and fierce dragons' spleens ,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes ,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs ,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here .
In brief , a braver choice of dauntless spirits 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er 
Did never float upon the swelling tide ,
To do offence and scathe in Christendom .

The interruption of their churlish drums 
Cuts off more circumstance : they are at hand ,
To parley or to fight ; therefore prepare .

How much unlook'd for is this expedition !

By how much unexpected , by so much 
We must awake endeavour for defence ,
For courage mounteth with occasion :
Let them be welcome then , we are prepar'd .


Peace be to France , if France in peace permit 
Our just and lineal entrance to our own ;
If not , bleed France , and peace ascend to heaven ,
Whiles we , God's wrathful agent , do correct 
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven .

Peace be to England , if that war return 
From France to England , there to live in peace .
England we love ; and , for that England's sake 
With burden of our armour here we sweat :
This toil of ours should be a work of thine ;
But thou from loving England art so far 
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king ,
Cut off the sequence of posterity ,
Out-faced infant state , and done a rape 
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown .
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face :
These eyes , these brows , were moulded out of his ;
This little abstract doth contain that large 
Which died in Geffrey , and the hand of time 
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume .
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born ,
And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right 
And this is Geffrey's . In the name of God 
How comes it then that thou art call'd a king ,
When living blood doth in these temples beat ,
Which owe the crown that thou o'ermasterest ?

From whom hast thou this great commission , France ,
To draw my answer from thy articles ?

From that supernal judge , that stirs good thoughts 
In any breast of strong authority ,
To look into the blots and stains of right :
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy :
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong ,
And by whose help I mean to chastise it .

Alack ! thou dost usurp authority .

Excuse ; it is to beat usurping down .

Who is it thou dost call usurper , France ?

Let me make answer ; thy usurping son .

Out , insolent ! thy bastard shall be king ,
That thou mayst be a queen , and check the world !

My bed was ever to thy son as true 
As thine was to thy husband , and this boy 
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey 
Than thou and John in manners ; being as like 
As rain to water , or devil to his dam .
My boy a bastard ! By my soul I think 
His father never was so true begot :
It cannot be an if thou wert his mother .

There's a good mother , boy , that blots thy father .

There's a good grandam , boy , that would blot thee .

Peace !

Hear the crier .

What the devil art thou ?

One that will play the devil , sir , with you ,
An a' may catch your hide and you alone .
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes ,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard .
I'll smoke your skin coat , an I catch you right .
Sirrah , look to't ; i' faith , I will , i' faith .

O ! well did he become that lion's robe ,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe .

It lies as sightly on the back of him 
As great Alcides' shows upon an ass :
But , ass , I'll take that burden from your back ,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack .

What cracker is this same that deafs our ears 
With this abundance of superfluous breath ?
King ,Lewis , determine what we shall do straight .

Women and fools , break off your conference .
King John , this is the very sum of all :
England and Ireland , Anjou , Touraine , Maine ,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee .
Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms ?

My life as soon : I do defy thee , France .
Arthur of Britaine , yield thee to my hand ;
And out of my dear love I'll give thee more 
Than e'er the coward hand of France can win .
Submit thee , boy .

Come to thy grandam , child .

Do , child , go to it grandam , child ;
Give grandam kingdom , and it grandam will 
Give it a plum , a cherry , and a fig :
There's a good grandam .

Good my mother , peace !
I would that I were low laid in my grave :
I am not worth this coil that's made for me .

His mother shames him so , poor boy , he weeps .

Now shame upon you , whe'r she does or no !
His grandam's wrongs , and not his mother's shames ,
Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes ,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
Ay , with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib'd 
To do him justice and revenge on you .

Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth !

Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth !
Call not me slanderer ; thou and thine usurp 
The dominations , royalties , and rights 
Of this oppressed boy : this is thy eld'st son's son ,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee :
Thy sins are visited in this poor child ;
The canon of the law is laid on him ,
Being but the second generation 
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb .

Bedlam , have done .

I have but this to say ,
That he's not only plagued for her sin ,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
On this removed issue , plagu'd for her ,
And with her plague , her sin ; his injury 
Her injury , the beadle to her sin ,
All punish'd in the person of this child ,
And all for her . A plague upon her !

Thou unadvised scold , I can produce 
A will that bars the title of thy son .

Ay , who doubts that ? a will ! a wicked will ;
A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will !

Peace , lady ! pause , or be more temperate :
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim 
To these ill-tuned repetitions .
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls 
These men of Angiers : let us hear them speak 
Whose title they admit , Arthur's or John's .


Who is it that hath warn'd us to the walls ?

'Tis France , for England .

England for itself .
You men of Angiers , and my loving subjects ,

You loving men of Angiers , Arthur's subjects ,
Our trumpet call'd you to this gentle parle ,

For our advantage ; therefore hear us first .
These flags of France , that are advanced here 
Before the eye and prospect of your town ,
Have hither march'd to your endamagement :
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath ,
And ready mounted are they to spit forth 
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls :
All preparation for a bloody siege 
And merciless proceeding by these French 
Confronts your city's eyes , your winking gates ;
And but for our approach those sleeping stones ,
That as a waist do girdle you about ,
By the compulsion of their ordinance 
By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
Had been dishabited , and wide havoc made 
For bloody power to rush upon your peace .
But on the sight of us your lawful king ,
Who painfully with much expedient march 
Have brought a countercheck before your gates ,
To save unscratch'd your city's threaten'd cheeks ,
Behold , the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle ;
And now , instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire ,
To make a shaking fever in your walls ,
They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke ,
To make a faithless error in your ears :
Which trust accordingly , kind citizens ,
And let us in , your king , whose labour'd spirits ,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed ,
Crave harbourage within your city walls .

When I have said , make answer to us both .
Lo ! in this right hand , whose protection 
Is most divinely vow'd upon the right 
Of him it holds , stands young Plantagenet ,
Son to the elder brother of this man ,
And king o'er him and all that he enjoys :
For this down-trodden equity , we tread 
In war-like march these greens before your town ,
Being no further enemy to you 
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal ,
In the relief of this oppressed child ,
Religiously provokes . Be pleased then 
To pay that duty which you truly owe 
To him that owes it , namely , this young prince ;
And then our arms , like to a muzzled bear ,
Save in aspect , have all offence seal'd up ;
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent 
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven ;
And with a blessed and unvex'd retire ,
With unhack'd swords and helmets all unbruis'd ,
We will bear home that lusty blood again 
Which here we came to spout against your town ,
And leave your children , wives , and you , in peace .
But if you fondly pass our proffer'd offer ,
'Tis not the roundure of your old-fac'd walls 
Can hide you from our messengers of war ,
Though all these English and their discipline 
Were harbour'd in their rude circumference .
Then tell us , shall your city call us lord ,
In that behalf which we have challeng'd it ?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage 
And stalk in blood to our possession ?

In brief , we are the King of England's subjects :
For him , and in his right , we hold this town .

Acknowledge then the king , and let me in .

That can we not ; but he that proves the king ,
To him will we prove loyal : till that time 
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the world .

Doth not the crown of England prove the king ?
And if not that , I bring you witnesses ,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's breed ,

Bastards , and else .

To verify our title with their lives .

As many and as well-born bloods as those ,

Some bastards too .

Stand in his face to contradict his claim .

Till thou compound whose right is worthiest ,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both .

Then God forgive the sins of all those souls 
That to their everlasting residence ,
Before the dew of evening fall , shall fleet ,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king !

Amen , Amen ! Mount , chevaliers ! to arms !

Saint George , that swing'd the dragon , and e'er since 
Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door ,
Teach us some fence !

Sirrah , were I at home ,
At your den , sirrah , with your lioness ,
I would set an ox-head to your lion's hide ,
And make a monster of you .

Peace ! no more .

O ! tremble , for you hear the lion roar .

Up higher to the plain ; where we'll set forth 
In best appointment all our regiments .

Speed then , to take advantage of the field .

It shall be so ;

and at the other hill 
Command the rest to stand . God , and our right !

You men of Angiers , open wide your gates ,
And let young Arthur , Duke of Britaine , in ,
Who , by the hand of France this day hath made 
Much work for tears in many an English mother ,
Whose sons he scatter'd on the bleeding ground ;
Many a widow's husband grovelling 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 Britaine England's king and yours .


Rejoice , you men of Angiers , ring your bells ;
King John , your king and England's , doth approach ,
Commander of this hot malicious day .
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 .
Open your gates and give the victors way .

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 .


France , hast thou yet more blood to cast away ?
Say , shall the current of our right run on ?
Whose passage , vex'd with thy impediment ,
Shall leave his native channel and o'erswell 
With course disturb'd even thy conflning shores ,
Unless thou let his silver water keep 
A peaceful progress to the ocean .

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 overlooks ,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms ,
We'll put thee down , 'gainst whom these arms we bear ,
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 .

Ha , majesty ! how high thy glory towers 
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire !
O ! now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel ;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth , his fangs ;
And now he feasts , mousing the flesh of men ,
In undetermin'd differences of kings .
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus ?
Cry 'havoc !' 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 !

Whose party do the townsmen yet admit ?

Speak , citizens , for England ; who's your king ?

The King of England , when we know the king .

Know him in us , that here hold up his right .

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

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 ourselves ; until our fears , resolv'd ,
Be by some certain king purg'd and depos'd .

By heaven , these scroyles of Angiers flout you , kings ,
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 awhile 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 ,
And kiss him with a glorious victory .
How like you this wild counsel , mighty states ?
Smacks it not something of the policy ?

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 ;
Then after fight who shall be king of it ?

An if thou hast the mettle of a king ,
Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish town ,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery ,
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 .

Let it be so . Say , where will you assault ?

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

I from the north .

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

O , prudent discipline ! From north to south 
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth :
I'll stir them to it . Come , away , away !

Hear us , great kings : vouchsafe a while to stay ,
And I shall show 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 .

Speak on with favour : we are bent to hear .

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 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 ,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete :
If not complete 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 blessed man ,
Left to be finished by such a she ;
And she a fair divided excellence ,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him .
O ! two such silver currents , when they join ,
Do glorify the banks that bound them in ;
And two such shores to two such streams 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 match ,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce ,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope ,
And give you entrance ; but without this match ,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf ,
Lions more confident , mountains and rocks 
More free from motion , no , not death himself 
In mortal fury half so peremptory ,
As we to keep this city .

Here's a stay ,
That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death 
Out of his rags ! Here's a large mouth , indeed ,
That spits forth death and mountains , rocks and seas ,
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions 
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs .
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood ?
He speaks plain cannon fire , and smoke and bounce ;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue ;
Our ears are cudgell'd ; not a word of his 
But buffets better than a fist of France .
'Zounds ! I was never so bethump'd with words 
Since I first call'd my brother's father dad .

Son , list to this conjunction , make this match ;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough ;
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
Thy now unsur'd assurance to the crown ,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe 
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit .
I see a yielding in the looks of France ;
Mark how they whisper : urge them while their souls 
Are capable of this ambition ,
Lest zeal , now melted by the windy breath 
Of soft petitions , pity and remorse ,
Cool and congeal again to what it was .

Why answer not the double majesties 
This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town ?

Speak England first , that hath been forward first 
To speak unto this city : what say you ?

If that the Dauphin there , thy princely son ,
Can in this book of beauty read 'I love ,' 
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen :
For Anjou , and fair Touraine , Maine , Poictiers ,
And all that we upon this side the sea ,
Except this city now by us besieg'd ,
Find liable to our crown and dignity ,
Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich 
In titles , honours , and promotions ,
As she in beauty , education , blood ,
Holds hand with any princess of the world .

What sayst thou , boy ? look in the lady's face .

I do , my lord ; and in her eye I find 
A wonder , or a wondrous miracle ,
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ;
Which , being but the shadow of your son 
Becomes a sun , and makes your son a shadow :
I do protest I never lov'd myself 
Till now infixed I beheld myself ,
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye .


Drawn in the flattering table of her eye !
Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her brow !
And quarter'd in her heart ! he doth espy 
Himself love's traitor : this is pity now ,
That hang'd and drawn and quarter'd , there should be 
In such a love so vile a lout as he .

My uncle's will in this respect is mine :
If he see aught in you that makes him like ,
That anything he sees , which moves his liking ,
I can with ease translate 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 see in you is worthy love ,
Than this : that nothing do I see in you ,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge ,
That I can find should merit any hate .

What say these young ones ? What say you , my niece ?

That she is bound in honour still to do 
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say .

Speak then , Prince Dauphin ; can you love this lady ?

Nay , ask me if I can refrain from love ;
For I do love her most unfeignedly .

Then do I give Volquessen , Touraine , Maine ,
Poictiers , 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 .

It likes us well . Young princes , close your hands .

And your lips too ; for I am well assur'd 
That I did so when I was first assur'd .

Now , citizens of Angiers , ope your gates ,
Let in that amity which you have made ;
For at Saint Mary's chapel presently 
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz'd .
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop ?
I know she is not ; for this match made up 
Her presence would have interrupted much :
Where is she and her son ? tell me , who knows .

She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent .

And , by my faith , this league that we have made 
Will give her sadness 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 .

We will heal up all ;
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine 
And Earl of Richmond ; and this rich fair town 
We make him lord of . Call the Lady Constance :
Some speedy messenger bid her repair 
To our solemnity : I trust we shall ,
If not fill up the measure of her will ,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so ,
That we shall stop her exclamation .
Go we , as well as haste will suffer us ,
To this unlook'd-for unprepared pomp .


Mad world ! mad kings ! mad composition !
John , to stop Arthur's title in the whole ,
Hath willingly departed with a part ;
And France , whose armour conscience buckled on ,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field 
As God's own soldier , rounded in the ear 
With that same purpose-changer , that sly devil ,
That broker , that still 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 lose 
But the word 'maid ,' cheats the poor maid of that ,
That smooth-fac'd gentleman , tickling Commodity ,
Commodity , the bias of the world ;
The world , who of itself is peized 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 :
And this same bias , this Commodity ,
This bawd , this broker , this all-changing word ,
Clapp'd 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 ;
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 !

Gone to be married ! gone to swear a peace !
False blood to false blood join'd ! gone to be friends !
Shall Lewis have Blanch , and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not so ; thou hast misspoke , misheard ;
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 vex'd 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 ?
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 .

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

O ! if thou teach me to believe this sorrow ,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die ;
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 ! O 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 .

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

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

I do beseech you , madam , be content .

If thou , that bidd'st me be content , wert grim ,
Ugly and slanderous 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 .
But thou art fair ; and at thy birth , dear boy ,
Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great :
Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast 
And with the half-blown rose . But Fortune , O !
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 a bawd to Fortune and King John ,
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 underbear .

Pardon me , madam ,
I may not go without you to the kings .

Thou mayst , thou shalt : I will not go with thee .
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud ;
For grief is proud and makes his owner stoop .
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 .

'Tis true , fair daughter ; and this blessed day 
Ever in France shall be kept festival :
To solemnize this day the glorious sun 
Stays in his course and plays the alchemist ,
Turning with splendour of his precious eye 
The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold :
The yearly course that brings this day about 
Shall never see it but a holiday .

A wicked day , and not a holy day !
What hath this day deserv'd ? what hath it done 
That it in golden letters should be set 
Among the high tides in the calendar ?
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 
Pray that their burdens may not fall this day ,
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd :
But on this day let seamen fear no wrack ;
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 !

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 ?

You have beguil'd me with a counterfeit 
Resembling majesty , which , being touch'd and tried ,
Proves valueless : you are forsworn , forsworn ;
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood ,
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours :
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war 
Is cold in amity and painted peace ,
And our oppression hath made up this league .
Arm , arm , you heavens , against these perjur'd kings !
A widow cries ; be husband to me , heavens !
Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
Wear out the day in peace ; but , ere sunset ,
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjur'd kings !
Hear me ! O , hear me !

Lady Constance , peace !

War ! war ! no peace ! peace is to me a war .
O , Lymoges ! O , Austria ! thou dost shame 
That bloody spoil . thou slave , thou wretch , thou coward !
Thou little valiant , great in villany !
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side !
Thou Fortune's champion , that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjur'd too ,
And sooth'st up greatness . What a fool art thou ,
A ramping fool , to brag , and stamp and swear 
Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave ,
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side ?
Been sworn my soldier ? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars , thy fortune , and thy strength ?
And dost thou now fall over to my foes ?
Thou wear a hon's hide ! doff it for shame ,
And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .

O ! that a man should speak those words to me .

And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .

Thou dar'st not say so , villain , for thy life .

And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs .

We like not this ; thou dost forget thyself .


Here comes the holy legate of the pope .

Hail , you anointed deputies of heaven !
To thee , King John , my holy errand is .
I Pandulph , of fair Milan cardinal ,
And from Pope Innocent the legate here ,
Do in his name religiously demand 
Why thou against the church , our holy mother ,
So wilfully dost spurn ; and , force perforce ,
Keep Stephen Langton , chosen Archbishop 
Of Canterbury , from that holy see ?
This , in our foresaid holy father's name ,
Pope Innocent , I do demand of thee .

What earthly name to interrogatories 
Can task the free breath of a sacred king ?
Thou canst not , cardinal , devise a name 
So slight , unworthy and ridiculous ,
To charge me to an answer , as the pope .
Tell him this tale ; and from the mouth of England 
Add thus much more : that no Italian priest 
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ;
But as we under heaven are supreme head ,
So under him that great supremacy ,
Where we do reign , we will alone uphold ,
Without the assistance of a mortal hand :
So tell the pope ; all reverence set apart 
To him , and his usurp'd authority .

Brother of England , you blaspheme in this .

Though you and all the kings of Christendom 
Are led so grossly by this meddling priest ,
Dreading the curse that money may buy out ;
And , by the merit of vile gold , dross , dust ,
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man ,
Who in that sale sells pardon from himself ;
Though you and all the rest so grossly led 
This juggling witchcraft with revenue cherish ;
Yet I alone , alone do me oppose 
Against the pope , and count his friends my foes .

Then , by the lawful power that I have ,
Thou shalt stand curs'd and excommunicate :
And blessed shall he be that doth revolt 
From his allegiance to a heretic ;
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd ,
Canonized and worshipp'd as a saint ,
That takes away by any secret course 
Thy hateful life .

O ! lawful let it be 
That I have room with Rome to curse awhile .
Good father cardinal , cry thou amen 
To my keen curses ; for without my wrong 
There is no tongue hath power to curse him right .

There's law and warrant , lady , for my curse .

And for mine too : when law can do no right ,
Let it be lawful that law bar no wrong .
Law cannot give my child his kingdom here ,
For he that holds his kingdom holds the law :
Therefore , since law itself is perfect wrong ,
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse ?

Philip of France , on peril of a curse ,
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ,
And raise the power of France upon his head ,
Unless he do submit himself to Rome .

Look'st thou pale , France ? do not let go thy hand .

Look to that , devil , lest that France repent ,
And by disjoining hands , hell lose a soul .

King Philip , listen to the cardinal .

And hang a calf's-skin on his recreant limbs .

Well , ruffian , I must pocket up these wrongs ,
Because 

Your breeches best may carry them .

Philip , what sayst thou to the cardinal ?

What should he say , but as the cardinal ?

Bethink you , father ; for the difference 
Is purchase of a heavy curse from Rome ,
Or the light loss of England for a friend :
Forego the easier .

That's the curse of Rome .

O Lewis , stand fast ! the devil tempts thee here ,
In likeness of a new untrimmed bride .

The Lady Constance speaks not from her faith ,
But from her need .

O ! if thou grant my need ,
Which only lives but by the death of faith ,
That need must needs infer this principle ,
That faith would live again by death of need :
O ! then , tread down my need , and faith mounts up ;
Keep my need up , and faith is trodden down .

The king is mov'd , and answers not to this .

O ! be remov'd from him , and answer well .

Do so , King Philip : hang no more in doubt .

Hang nothing but a calf's-skin , most sweet lout .

I am perplex'd , and know not what to say .

What canst thou say but will perplex thee more ,
If thou stand excommunicate and curs'd ?

Good reverend father , make my person yours ,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself .
This royal hand and mine are newly knit ,
And the conjunction of our inward souls 
Married in league , coupled and link'd together 
With all religious strength of sacred vows ;
The latest breath that gave the sound of words 
Was deep-sworn faith , peace , amity , true love ,
Between our kingdoms and our royal selves ;
And even before this truce , but new before ,
No longer than we well could wash our hands 
To clap this royal bargain up of peace ,
Heaven knows , they were besmear'd and overstain'd 
With slaughter's pencil , where revenge did paint 
The fearful difference of incensed kings :
And shall these hands , so lately purg'd of blood ,
So newly join'd in love , so strong in both ,
Unyoke this seizure and this kind regreet ?
Play fast and loose with faith ? so jest with heaven ,
Make such unconstant children of ourselves ,
As now again to snatch our palm from palm ,
Unswear faith sworn , and on the marriage-bed 
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host ,
And make a riot on the gentle brow 
Of true sincerity ? O ! holy sir ,
My reverend father , let it not be so !
Out of your grace , devise , ordain , impose 
Some gentle order , and then we shall be bless'd 
To do your pleasure and continue friends .

All form is formless , order orderless ,
Save what is opposite to England's love .
Therefore to arms ! be champion of our church ,
Or let the church , our mother , breathe her curse ,
A mother's curse , on her revolting son .
France , thou mayst hold a serpent by the tongue ,
A chafed lion by the mortal paw ,
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth ,
Than keep in peace that hand which thou dost hold .

I may disjoin my hand , but not my faith .

So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith :
And like a civil war sett'st oath to oath ,
Thy tongue against thy tongue . O ! let thy vow 
First made to heaven , first be to heaven perform'd ;
That is , to be the champion of our church .
What since thou swor'st is sworn against thyself 
And may not be performed by thyself ;
For that which thou hast sworn to do amiss 
Is not amiss when it is truly done ;
And being not done , where doing tends to ill ,
The truth is then most done not doing it .
The better act of purposes mistook 
Is to mistake again ; though indirect ,
Yet indirection thereby grows direct ,
And falsehood falsehood cures , as fire cools fire 
Within the scorched veins of one new-burn'd .
It is religion that doth make vows kept ;
But thou hast sworn against religion 
By what thou swear'st , against the thing thou swear'st ,
And mak'st an oath the surety for thy truth 
Against an oath : the truth thou art unsure 
To swear , swears only not to be forsworn ;
Else what a mockery should it be to swear !
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn ;
And most forsworn , to keep what thou dost swear .
Therefore thy later vows against thy first 
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself ;
And better conquest never canst thou make 
Than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts 
Against these giddy loose suggestions :
Upon which better part our prayers come in ,
If thou vouchsafe them ; but , if not , then know 
The peril of our curses light on thee 
So heavy as thou shalt not shake them off ,
But in despair die under their black weight .

Rebellion , flat rebellion !

Will't not be ?
Will not a calf's-skin stop that mouth of thine ?

Father , to arms !

Upon thy wedding-day ?
Against the blood that thou hast married ?
What ! shall our feast be kept with slaughter'd men ?
Shall braying trumpets and loud churlish drums ,
Clamours of hell , be measures to our pomp ?
O husband , hear me ! ay , alack ! how new 
Is husband in my mouth ; even for that name ,
Which till this time my tongue did ne'er pronounce ,
Upon my knee I beg , go not to arms 
Against mine uncle .

O ! upon my knee ,
Made hard with kneeling , I do pray to thee ,
Thou virtuous Dauphin , alter not the doom 
Forethought by heaven .

Now shall I see thy love : what motive may 
Be stronger with thee than the name of wife ?

That which upholdeth him that thee upholds ,
His honour : O ! thine honour , Lewis , thine honour .

I muse your majesty doth seem so cold ,
When such profound respects do pull you on .

I will denounce a curse upon his head .

Thou shalt not need . England , I'll fall from thee .

O fair return of banish'd majesty !

O foul revolt of French inconstancy !

France , thou shalt rue this hour within this hour .

Old Time the clock-setter , that bald sexton Time ,
Is it as he will ? well then , France shall rue .

The sun's o'ercast with blood : fair day , adieu !
Which is the side that I must go withal ?
I am with both : each army hath a hand ;
And in their rage , I having hold of both ,
They whirl asunder and dismember me .
Husband , I cannot pray that thou mayst win ;
Uncle , I needs must pray that thou mayst lose ;
Father , I may not wish the fortune thine ;
Grandam , I will not wish thy wishes thrive :
Whoever wins , on that side shall I lose ;
Assured loss before the match be play'd .

Lady , with me ; with me thy fortune lies .

There where my fortune lives , there my life dies .

Cousin , go draw our puissance together .

France , I am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ;
A rage whose heat hath this condition ,
That nothing can allay , nothing but blood ,
The blood , and dearest-valu'd blood of France .

Thy rage shall burn thee up , and thou shalt turn 
To ashes , ere our blood shall quench that fire :
Look to thyself , thou art in jeopardy .

No more than he that threats . To arms let's hie !


Now , by my life , this day grows wondrous hot ;
Some airy devil hovers in the sky 
And pours down mischief . Austria's head lie there ,
While Philip breathes .


Hubert , keep this boy . Philip , make up ,
My mother is assailed in our tent ,
And ta'en , I fear .

My lord , I rescu'd her ;
Her highness is in safety , fear you not :
But on , my liege ; for very little pains 
Will bring this labour to a happy end .


So shall it be ; your grace shall stay behind 
So strongly guarded .

Cousin , look not sad :
Thy grandam loves thee ; and thy uncle will 
As dear be to thee as thy father was .

O ! this will make my mother die with grief .

Cousin , away for England ! haste before ;
And , ere our coming , see thou shake the bags 
Of hoarding abbots ; set at liberty 
Imprison'd angels : the fat ribs of peace 
Must by the hungry now be fed upon :
Use our commission in his utmost force .

Bell , book , and candle shall not drive me back 
When gold and silver becks me to come on .
I leave your highness . Grandam , I will pray ,
If ever I remember to be holy ,
For your fair safety ; so I kiss your hand .

Farewell , gentle cousin .

Coz , farewell .


Come hither , little kinsman ; hark , a word .


Come hither , Hubert . O my gentle Hubert ,
We owe thee much : within this wall of flesh 
There is a soul counts thee her creditor ,
And with advantage means to pay thy love :
And , my good friend , thy voluntary oath 
Lives in this bosom , dearly cherished .
Give me thy hand . I had a thing to say ,
But I will fit it with some better time .
By heaven , Hubert , I am almost asham'd 
To say what good respect I have of thee .

I am much bounden to your majesty .

Good friend , thou hast no cause to say so yet ;
But thou shalt have ; and creep time ne'er so slow ,
Yet it shall come for me to do thee good .
I had a thing to say , but let it go :
The sun is in the heaven , and the proud day ,
Attended with the pleasures of the world ,
Is all too wanton and too full of gawds 
To give me audience : if the midnight bell 
Did , with his iron tongue and brazen mouth ,
Sound one into the drowsy race of night ;
If this same were a churchyard where we stand ,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs ;
Or if that surly spirit , melancholy ,
Had bak'd thy blood and made it heavy-thick ,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins ,
Making that idiot , laughter , keep men's eyes 
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment ,
A passion hateful to my purposes ;
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes ,
Hear me without thine ears , and make reply 
Without a tongue , using conceit alone ,
Without eyes , ears , and harmful sound of words ;
Then , in despite of brooded watchful day ,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts :
But ah ! I will not : yet I love thee well ;
And , by my troth , I think thou lov'st me well .

So well , that what you bid me undertake ,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act ,
By heaven , I would do it .

Do not I know thou wouldst ?
Good Hubert ! Hubert , Hubert , throw thine eye 
On yon young boy : I'll tell thee what , my friend ,
He is a very serpent in my way ;
And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread 
He lies before me : dost thou understand me ?
Thou art his keeper .

And I'll keep him so 
That he shall not offend your majesty .

Death .

My lord ?

A grave .

He shall not live .

Enough .
I could be merry now . Hubert , I love thee ;
Well , I'll not say what I intend for thee :
Remember . Madam , fare you well :
I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty .

My blessing go with thee !

For England , cousin ; go :
Hubert shall be your man , attend on you 
With all true duty . On toward Calais , ho !


So , by a roaring tempest on the flood ,
A whole armado of convicted sail 
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship .

Courage and comfort ! all shall yet go well .

What can go well when we have run so ill ?
Are we not beaten ? Is not Angiers lost ?
Arthur ta'en prisoner ? divers dear friends slain ?
And bloody England into England gone ,
O'erbearing interruption , spite of France ?

What he hath won that hath he fortified :
So hot a speed with such advice dispos'd ,
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause ,
Doth want example : who hath read or heard 
Of any kindred action like to this ?

Well could I bear that England had this praise ,
So we could find some pattern of our shame .


Look , who comes here ! a grave unto a soul ;
Holding the eternal spirit , against her will ,
In the vile prison of afflicted breath .

I prithee lady , go away with me .

Lo now ! now see the issue of your peace .

Patience , good lady ! comfort , gentle Constance !

No , I defy all counsel , all redress ,
But that which ends all counsel , true redress ,
Death , death : O , amiable lovely death !
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness !
Arise forth from the couch of lasting night ,
Thou hate and terror to prosperity ,
And I will kiss thy detestable bones ,
And put my eyeballs in thy vaulty brows ,
And ring these fingers with thy household worms ,
And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust ,
And be a carrion monster like thyself :
Come , grin on me ; and I will think thou smil'st 
And buss thee as thy wife ! Misery's love ,
O ! come to me .

O fair affliction , peace !

No , no , I will not , having breath to cry :
O ! that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth !
Then with a passion would I shake the world ,
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy 
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voice ,
Which scorns a modern invocation .

Lady , you utter madness , and not sorrow .

Thou art not holy to belie me so ;
I am not mad : this hair I tear is mine ;
My name is Constance ; I was Geffrey's wife ;
Young Arthur is my son , and he is lost !
I am not mad : I would to heaven I were !
For then 'tis like I should forget myself :
O ! if I could , what grief should I forget .
Preach some philosophy to make me mad ,
And thou shalt be canoniz'd , cardinal ;
For being not mad but sensible of grief ,
My reasonable part produces reason 
How I may be deliver'd of these woes ,
And teaches me to kill or hang myself :
If I were mad , I should forget my son ,
Or madly think a babe of clouts were he .
I am not mad : too well , too well I feel 
The different plague of each calamity .

Bind up those tresses . O ! what love I note 
In the fair multitude of those her hairs :
Where but by chance a silver drop hath fallen ,
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry friends 
Do glue themselves in sociable grief ;
Like true , inseparable , faithful loves ,
Sticking together in calamity .

To England , if you will .

Bind up your hairs .

Yes , that I will ; and wherefore will I do it ?
I tore them from their bonds , and cried aloud 
'O ! that these hands could so redeem my son ,
As they have given these hairs their liberty !' 
But now I envy at their liberty ,
And will again commit them to their bonds ,
Because my poor child is a prisoner .
And , father cardinal , I have heard you say 
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven .
If that be true , I shall see my boy again ;
For since the birth of Cain , the first male child ,
To him that did but yesterday suspire ,
There was not such a gracious creature born .
But now will canker-sorrow eat my bud 
And chase the native beauty from his cheek ,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost ,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit ,
And so he'll die ; and , rising so again ,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
I shall not know him : therefore never , never 
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more .

You hold too heinous a respect of grief .

He talks to me , that never had a son .

You are as fond of grief as of your child .

Grief fills the room up of my absent child ,
Lies in his bed , walks up and down with me ,
Puts on his pretty looks , repeats his words ,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts ,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form :
Then have I reason to be fond of grief .
Fare you well : had you such a loss as I ,
I could give better comfort than you do .
I will not keep this form upon my head 
When there is such disorder in my wit .
O Lord ! my boy , my Arthur , my fair son !
My life , my joy , my food , my all the world !
My widow-comfort , and my sorrows' cure !


I fear some outrage , and I'll follow her .


There's nothing in this world can make me joy :
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale ,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ;
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste ,
That it yields nought but shame and bitterness .

Before the curing of a strong disease ,
Even in the instant of repair and health ,
The fit is strongest : evils that take leave ,
On their departure most of all show evil .
What have you lost by losing of this day ?

All days of glory , joy , and happiness .

If you had won it , certainly you had .
No , no ; when Fortune means to men most good ,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye .
'Tis strange to think how much King John hath lost 
In this which he accounts so clearly won .
Are not you griev'd that Arthur is his prisoner ?

As heartily as he is glad he hath him .

Your mind is all as youthful as your blood .
Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit ;
For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
Shall blow each dust , each straw , each little rub ,
Out of the path which shall directly lead 
Thy foot to England's throne ; and therefore mark .
John hath seiz'd Arthur ; and it cannot be ,
That whiles warm life plays in that infant's veins 
The misplac'd John should entertain an hour ,
One minute , nay , one quiet breath of rest .
A sceptre snatch'd with an unruly hand 
Must be as boisterously maintain'd as gain'd ;
And he that stands upon a slippery place 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up :
That John may stand , then Arthur needs must fall ;
So be it , for it cannot be but so .

But what shall I gain by young Arthur's fall ?

You , in the right of Lady Blanch your wife ,
May then make all the claim that Arthur did .

And lose it , life and all , as Arthur did .

How green you are and fresh in this old world !
John lays you plots ; the times conspire with you ;
For he that steeps his safety in true blood 
Shall find but bloody safety and untrue .
This act so evilly borne shall cool the hearts 
Of all his people and freeze up their zeal ,
That none so small advantage shall step forth 
To check his reign , but they will cherish it ;
No natural exhalation in the sky ,
No scope of nature , no distemper'd day ,
No common wind , no customed event ,
But they will pluck away his natural cause 
And call them meteors , prodigies , and signs ,
Abortives , presages , and tongues of heaven ,
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John .

May be he will not touch young Arthur's life ,
But hold himself safe in his prisonment .

O ! sir , when he shall hear of your approach ,
If that young Arthur be not gone already ,
Even at that news he dies ; and then the hearts 
Of all his people shall revolt from him 
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ,
And pick strong matter of revolt and wrath 
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John .
Methinks I see this hurly all on foot :
And , O ! what better matter breeds for you 
Than I have nam'd . The bastard Faulconbridge 
Is now in England ransacking the church ,
Offending charity : if but a dozen French 
Were there in arms , they would be as a call 
To train ten thousand English to their side ;
Or as a little snow , tumbled about ,
Anon becomes a mountain . O noble Dauphin !
Go with me to the king . 'Tis wonderful 
What may be wrought out of their discontent 
Now that their souls are topful of offence .
For England go ; I will whet on the king .

Strong reasons make strong actions . Let us go :
If you say ay , the king will not say no .

Heat me these irons hot ; and look thou stand 
Within the arras : when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground , rush forth ,
And bind the boy which you shall find with me 
Fast to the chair : be heedful . Hence , and watch .

I hope your warrant will bear out the deed .

Uncleanly scruples ! fear not you : look to't .

Young lad , come forth ; I have to say with you .


Good morrow , Hubert .

Good morrow , little prince .

As little prince ,having so great a title 
To be more prince ,as may be . You are sad .

Indeed , I have been merrier .

Mercy on me !
Methinks nobody should be sad but I :
Yet I remember , when I was in France ,
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night ,
Only for wantonness . By my christendom ,
So I were out of prison and kept sheep ,
I should be as merry as the day is long ;
And so I would be here , but that I doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me :
He is afraid of me , and I of him .
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son ?
No , indeed , is't not ; and I would to heaven 
I were your son , so you would love me , Hubert .

If I talk to him with his innocent prate 
He will awake my mercy which lies dead :
Therefore I will be sudden and dispatch .

Are you sick , Hubert ? you look pale to-day :
In sooth , I would you were a little sick ,
That I might sit all night and watch with you :
I warrant I love you more than you do me .

His words do take possession of my bosom .
Read here , young Arthur .

How now , foolish rheum !
Turning dispiteous torture out of door !
I must be brief , lest resolution drop 
Out at mine eyes in tender womanish tears .
Can you not read it ? is it not fair writ ?

Too fairly , Hubert , for so foul effect .
Must you with hot irons burn out both mine eyes ?

Young boy , I must .

And will you ?

And I will .

Have you the heart ? When your head did but ache ,
I knit my handkercher about your brows ,
The best I had , a princess wrought it me ,
And I did never ask it you again ;
And with my hand at midnight held your head ,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour ,
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time ,
Saying , 'What lack you ?' and , 'Where lies your grief ?' 
Or , 'What good love may I perform for you ?' 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still ,
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you ;
But you at your sick-service had a prince .
Nay , you may think my love was crafty love ,
And call it cunning : do an if you will .
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill ,
Why then you must . Will you put out mine eyes ?
These eyes that never did nor never shall 
So much as frown on you ?

I have sworn to do it ;
And with hot irons must I burn them out .

Ah ! none but in this iron age would do it !
The iron of itself , though heat red-hot ,
Approaching near these eyes , would drink my tears 
And quench this fiery indignation 
Even in the matter of mine innocence ;
Nay , after that , consume away in rust ,
But for containing fire to harm mine eye .
Are you more stubborn-hard than hammer'd iron ?
An if an angel should have come to me 
And told me Hubert should put out mine eyes ,
I would not have believ'd him ; no tongue but Hubert's .

Come forth .

Do as I bid you do .

O ! save me , Hubert , save me ! my eyes are out 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men .

Give me the iron , I say , and bind him here .

Alas ! what need you be so boisterousrough ?
I will not struggle ; I will stand stone-still .
For heaven's sake , Hubert , let me not be bound !
Nay , hear me , Hubert : drive these men away ,
And I will sit as quiet as a lamb ;
I will not stir , nor wince , nor speak a word ,
Nor look upon the iron angerly .
Thrust but these men away , and I'll forgive you ,
Whatever torment you do put me to .

Go , stand within : let me alone with him .

I am best pleas'd to be from such a deed .


Alas ! I then have chid away my friend :
He hath a stern look , but a gentle heart .
Let him come back , that his compassion may 
Give life to yours .

Come , boy , prepare yourself .

Is there no remedy ?

None , but to lose your eyes .

O heaven ! that there were but a mote in yours ,
A grain , a dust , a gnat , a wandering hair ,
Any annoyance in that precious sense ;
Then feeling what small things are boisterous there ,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible .

Is this your promise ? go to , hold your tongue .

Hubert , the utterance of a brace of tongues 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes :
Let me not hold my tongue ; let me not , Hubert :
Or Hubert , if you will , cut out my tongue ,
So I may keep mine eyes : O ! spare mine eyes ,
Though to no use but still to look on you :
Lo ! by my troth , the instrument is cold 
And would not harm me .

I can heat it , boy .

No , in good sooth ; the fire is dead with grief ,
Being create for comfort , to be us'd 
In undeserv'd extremes : see else yourself ;
There is no malice in this burning coal ;
The breath of heaven hath blown his spirit out 
And strew'd repentant ashes on his head .

But with my breath I can revive it , boy .

An if you do you will but make it blush 
And glow with shame of your proceedings , Hubert :
Nay , it perchance will sparkle in your eyes ;
And like a dog that is compell'd to fight ,
Snatch at his master that doth tarre him on .
All things that you should use to do me wrong 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy which fierce fire and iron extends ,
Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses .

Well , see to live ; I will not touch thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owes :
Yet am I sworn and I did purpose , boy ,
With this same very iron to burn them out .

O ! now you look like Hubert , all this while 
You were disguised .

Peace ! no more . Adieu .
Your uncle must not know but you are dead ;
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports :
And , pretty child , sleep doubtless and secure ,
That Hubert for the wealth of all the world 
Will not offend thee .

O heaven ! I thank you , Hubert .

Silence ! no more , go closely in with me :
Much danger do I undergo for thee .


Here once again we sit , once again crown'd ,
And look'd upon , I hope , with cheerful eyes .

This 'once again ,' but that your highness pleas'd ,
Was once superfluous : you were crown'd before ,
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd off ,
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ;
Fresh expectation troubled not the land 
With any long'd-for change or better state .

Therefore , to be possess'd with double pomp ,
To guard a title that was rich before ,
To gild refined gold , to paint the lily ,
To throw a perfume on the violet ,
To smooth the ice , or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow , or with taper-light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish ,
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess .

But that your royal pleasure must be done ,
This act is as an ancient tale new told ,
And in the last repeating troublesome ,
Being urged at a time unseasonable .

In this the antique and well-noted face 
Of plain old form is much disfigured ;
And , like a shifted wind unto a sail ,
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about ,
Startles and frights consideration ,
Makes sound opinion sick and truth suspected ,
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe .

When workmen strive to do better than well 
They do confound their skill in covetousness ;
And oftentimes excusing of a fault 
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse :
As patches set upon a little breach 
Discredit more in hiding of the fault 
Than did the fault before it was so patch'd .

To this effect , before you were newcrown'd ,
We breath'd our counsel : but it pleas'd your highness 
To overbear it , and we are all well pleas'd ;
Since all and every part of what we would 
Doth make a stand at what your highness will .

Some reasons of this double coronation 
I have possess'd you with and think them strong ;
And more , more strong ,when lesser is my fear ,
I shall indue you with : meantime but ask 
What you would have reform'd that is not well ;
And well shall you perceive how willingly 
I will both hear and grant you your requests .

Then I ,as one that am the tongue of these 
To sound the purposes of all their hearts ,
Both for myself and them ,but , chief of all ,
Your safety , for the which myself and them 
Bend their best studies ,heartily request 
The enfranchisement of Arthur ; whose restraint 
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
To break into this dangerous argument :
If what in rest you have in right you hold ,
Why then your fears ,which , as they say , attend 
The steps of wrong ,should move you to mew up 
Your tender kinsman , and to choke his days 
With barbarous ignorance , and deny his youth 
The rich advantage of good exercise ?
That the time's enemies may not have this 
To grace occasions , let it be our suit 
That you have bid us ask , his liberty ;
Which for our goods we do no further ask 
Than whereupon our weal , on you depending ,
Counts it your weal he have his liberty .


Let it be so : I do commit his youth 
To your direction . Hubert , what news with you ?


This is the man should do the bloody deed ;
He show'd his warrant to a friend of mine :
The image of a wicked hemous fault 
Lives in his eye ; that close aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much troubled breast ;
And I do fearfully believe 'tis done ,
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do .

The colour of the king doth come and go 
Between his purpose and his conscience ,
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set :
His passion is so ripe it needs must break .

And when it breaks , I fear will issue thence 
The foul corruption of a sweet child's death .

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand :
Good lords , although my will to give is living ,
The suit which you demand is gone and dead :
He tells us Arthur is deceas'd to-night .

Indeed we fear'd his sickness was past cure .

Indeed we heard how near his death he was 
Before the child himself felt he was sick :
This must be answer'd , either here or hence .

Why do you bend such solemn brows on me ?
Think you I bear the shears of destiny ?
Have I commandment on the pulse of life ?

It is apparent foul play ; and 'tis shame 
That greatness should so grossly offer it :
So thrive it in your game ! and so , farewell .

Stay yet , Lord Salisbury ; I'll go with thee ,
And find the inheritance of this poor child ,
His little kingdom of a forced grave .
That blood which ow'd the breadth of all this isle ,
Three foot of it doth hold : bad world the while !
This must not be thus borne : this will break out 
To all our sorrows , and ere long I doubt .


They burn in indignation . I repent :
There is no sure foundation set on blood ,
No certain life achiev'd by others' death .


A fearful eye thou hast : where is that blood 
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks ?
So foul a sky clears not without a storm :

Pour down thy weather : how goes all in France ?

From France to England . Never such a power 
For any foreign preparation 
Was levied in the body of a land .
The copy of your speed is learn'd by them ;
For when you should be told they do prepare ,
The tidings come that they are all arriv'd .

O ! where hath our intelligence been drunk ?
Where hath it slept ? Where is my mother's care 
That such an army could be drawn in France ,
And she not hear of it ?

My liege , her ear 
Is stopp'd with dust : the first of April died 
Your noble mother ; and , as I hear , my lord ,
The Lady Constance in a frenzy died 
Three days before : but this from rumour's tongue 
I idly heard ; if true or false I know not .

Withhold thy speed , dreadful occasion !
O ! make a league with me , till I have pleas'd 
My discontented peers . What ! mother dead !
How wildly then walks my estate in France !
Under whose conduct came those powers of France 
That thou for truth giv'st out are landed here ?

Under the Dauphin .

Thou hast made me giddy 
With these ill tidings .


Now , what says the world 
To your proceedings ? do not seek to stuff 

My head with more ill news , for it is full .

But if you be afeard to hear the worst ,
Then let the worst unheard fall on your head .

Bear with me , cousin , for I was amaz'd 
Under the tide ; but now I breathe again 
Aloft the flood , and can give audience 
To any tongue , speak it of what it will .

How I have sped among the clergymen ,
The sums I have collected shall express .
But as I travell'd hither through the land ,
I find the people strangely fantasied ,
Possess'd with rumours , full of idle dreams ,
Not knowing what they fear , but full of fear .
And here's a prophet that I brought with me 
From forth the streets of Pomfret , whom I found 
With many hundreds treading on his heels ;
To whom he sung , in rude harsh-sounding rimes ,
That , ere the next Ascension-day at noon ,
Your highness should deliver up your crown .

Thou idle dreamer , wherefore didst thou so ?

Foreknowing that the truth will fall out so .

Hubert , away with him ; imprison him :
And on that day at noon , whereon , he says ,
I shall yield up my crown , let him be hang'd .
Deliver him to safety , and return ,
For I must use thee .

O my gentle cousin ,
Hear'st thou the news abroad , who are arriv'd ?

The French , my lord ; men's mouths are full of it :
Besides , I met Lord Bigot and Lord Salisbury ,
With eyes as red as new-enkindled fire ,
And others more , going to seek the grave 
Of Arthur , whom they say is kill'd to-night 
On your suggestion .

Gentle kinsman , go ,
And thrust thyself into their companies .
I have a way to win their loves again ;
Bring them before me .

I will seek them out .

Nay , but make haste ; the better foot before .
O ! let me have no subject enemies 
When adverse foreigners affright my towns 
With dreadful pomp of stout invasion .
Be Mercury , set feathers to thy heels ,
And fly like thought from them to me again .

The spirit of the time shall teach me speed .

Spoke like a sprightful noble gentleman .

Go after him ; for he perhaps shall need 
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ;
And be thou he .

With all my heart , my liege .


My mother dead !


My lord , they say five moons were seen to-night :
Four fixed , and the fifth did whirl about 
The other four in wondrous motion .

Five moons !

Old men and beldams in the streets 
Do prophesy upon it dangerously :
Young Arthur's death is common in their mouths ;
And when they talk of him , they shake their heads 
And whisper one another in the ear ;
And he that speaks , doth gripe the hearer's wrist 
Whilst he that hears makes fearful action ,
With wrinkled brows , with nods , with rolling eyes .
I saw a smith stand with his hammer , thus ,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool ,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news ;
Who , with his shears and measure in his hand ,
Standing on slippers ,which his nimble haste 
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet ,
Told of a many thousand warlike French ,
That were embattailed and rank'd in Kent .
Another lean unwash'd artificer 
Cuts off his tale and talks of Arthur's death .

Why seek'st thou to possess me with these fears ?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ?
Thy hand hath murder'd him : I had a mighty cause 
To wish him dead , but thou hadst none to kill him .

No had , my lord ! why , did you not provoke me ?

It is the curse of kings to be attended 
By slaves that take their humours for a warrant 
To break within the bloody house of life ,
And on the winking of authority 
To understand a law , to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty , when , perchance , it frowns 
More upon humour than advis'd respect .

Here is your hand and seal for what I did .

O ! when the last account 'twixt heaven and earth 
Is to be made , then shall this hand and seal 
Witness against us to damnation .
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds 
Makes ill deeds done ! Hadst not thou been by ,
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd ,
Quoted and sign'd to do a deed of shame ,
This murder had not come into my mind ;
But taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect ,
Finding thee fit for bloody villany ,
Apt , liable to be employ'd in danger ,
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ;
And thou , to be endeared to a king ,
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince .

My lord ,

Hadst thou but shook thy head or made a pause 
When I spake darkly what I purposed ,
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face ,
As bid me tell my tale in express words ,
Deep shame had struck me dumb , made me break off ,
And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me :
But thou didst understand me by my signs 
And didst in signs again parley with sin ;
Yea , without stop , didst let thy heart consent ,
And consequently thy rude hand to act 
The deed which both our tongues held vile to name .
Out of my sight , and never see me more !
My nobles leave me ; and my state is brav'd ,
Even at my gates , with ranks of foreign powers :
Nay , in the body of this fleshly land ,
This kingdom , this confine of blood and breath ,
Hostility and civil tumult reigns 
Between my conscience and my cousin's death .

Arm you against your other enemies ,
I'll make a peace between your soul and you .
Young Arthur is alive : this hand of mine 
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand ,
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood .
Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
The dreadful motion of a murderous thought ;
And you have slander'd nature in my form ,
Which , howsoever rude exteriorly ,
Is yet the cover of a fairer mind 
Than to be butcher of an innocent child .

Doth Arthur live ? O ! haste thee to the peers ,
Throw this report on their incensed rage ,
And make them tame to their obedience .
Forgive the comment that my passion made 
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind ,
And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
Presented thee more hideous than thou art .
O ! answer not ; but to my closet bring 
The angry lords , with all expedient haste .
I conjure thee but slowly ; run more fast .


The wall is high ; and yet will I leap down 
Good ground , be pitiful and hurt me not !
There's few or none do know me ; if they did ,
This ship-boy's semblance hath disguis'd me quite .
I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it .
If I get down , and do not break my limbs ,
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away :
As good to die and go , as die and stay .

O me ! my uncle's spirit is in these stones :
Heaven take my soul , and England keep my bones !

Lords , I will meet him at Saint Edmundsbury .
It is our safety , and we must embrace 
This gentle offer of the perilous time .

Who brought that letter from the cardinal ?

The Count Melun , a noble lord of France ;
Whose private with me of the Dauphin's love ,
Is much more general than these lines import .

To-morrow morning let us meet him then .

Or rather then set forward ; for 'twill be 
Two long days' journey , lords , or e'er we meet .


Once more to-day well met , distemper'd lords !
The king by me requests your presence straight .

The king hath dispossess'd himself of us :
We will not line his thin bestained cloak 
With our pure honours , nor attend the foot 
That leaves the print of blood where'er it walks .
Return and tell him so : we know the worst .

Whate'er you think , good words , I think , were best .

Our griefs , and not our manners , reason now .

But there is little reason in your grief ;
Therefore 'twere reason you had manners now .

Sir , sir , impatience hath his privilege .

'Tis true ; to hurt his master , no man else .

This is the prison .

What is he lies here ?

O death , made proud with pure and princely beauty !
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed .

Murder , as hating what himself hath done ,
Doth lay it open to urge on revenge .

Or when he doom'd this beauty to a grave ,
Found it too precious-princely for a grave .

Sir Richard , what think you ? Have you beheld ,
Or have you read , or heard ? or could you think ?
Or do you almost think , although you see ,
That you do see ? could thought , without this object ,
Form such another ? This is the very top ,
The height , the crest , or crest unto the crest ,
Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame ,
The wildest savagery , the vilest stroke ,
That ever wall-eyed wrath or staring rage 
Presented to the tears of soft remorse .

All murders past do stand excus'd in this :
And this , so sole and so unmatchable ,
Shall give a holiness , a purity ,
To the yet unbegotten sin of times ;
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest ,
Exampled by this heinous spectacle .

It is a damned and a bloody work ;
The graceless action of a heavy hand ,
If that it be the work of any hand .

If that it be the work of any hand !
We had a kind of light what would ensue :
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hand ;
The practice and the purpose of the king :
From whose obedience I forbid my soul ,
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life ,
And breathing to his breathless excellence 
The incense of a vow , a holy vow ,
Never to taste the pleasures of the world ,
Never to be infected with delight ,
Nor conversant with ease and idleness ,
Till I have set a glory to this hand ,
By giving it the worship of revenge .

Our souls religiously confirm thy words .

Our souls religiously confirm thy words .


Lords , I am hot with haste in seeking you :
Arthur doth live : the king hath sent for you .

O ! he is bold and blushes not at death .
Avaunt , thou hateful villain ! get thee gone .

I am no villain .

Must I rob the law ?

Your sword is bright , sir ; put it up again .

Not till I sheathe it in a murderer's skin .

Stand back , Lord Salisbury , stand back , I say :
By heaven , I think my sword's as sharp as yours .
I would not have you , lord , forget yourself ,
Nor tempt the danger of my true defence ;
Lest I , by marking of your rage , forget 
Your worth , your greatness , and nobility .

Out , dunghill ! dar'st thou brave a nobleman ?

Not for my life ; but yet I dare defend 
My innocent life against an emperor .

Thou art a murderer .

Do not prove me so ;
Yet I am none . Whose tongue soe'er speaks false ,
Not truly speaks ; who speaks not truly , lies .

Cut him to pieces .

Keep the peace , I say .

Stand by , or I shall gall you , Faulconbridge .

Thou wert better gall the devil , Salisbury :
If thou but frown on me , or stir thy foot ,
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame ,
I'll strike thee dead . Put up thy sword betime :
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron ,
That you shall think the devil is come from hell .

What wilt thou do , renowned Faulconbridge ?
Second a villain and a murderer ?

Lord Bigot , I am none .

Who kill'd this prince ?

'Tis not an hour since I left him well :
I honour'd him , I lov'd him ; and will weep 
My date of life out for his sweet life's loss .

Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes ,
For villany is not without such rheum ;
And he , long traded in it , makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse and innocency .
Away with me , all you whose souls abhor 
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house ;
For I am stifled with this smell of sin .

Away toward Bury ; to the Dauphin there !

There tell the king he may inquire us out .


Here's a good world ! Knew you of this fair work ?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach 
Of mercy , if thou didst this deed of death ,
Art thou damn'd , Hubert .

Do but hear me , sir .

Ha ! I'll tell thee what ;
Thou art damn'd as black nay , nothing is so black ;
Thou art more deep damn'd than Prince Lucifer :
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell 
As thou shalt be , if thou didst kill this child .

Upon my soul ,

If thou didst but consent 
To this most cruel act , do but despair ;
And if thou want'st a cord , the smallest thread 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will be a beam 
To hang thee on ; or wouldst thou drown thyself ,
Put but a little water in a spoon ,
And it shall be as all the ocean ,
Enough to stifle such a villain up .
I do suspect thee very grievously .

If I in act , consent , or sin of thought ,
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay ,
Let hell want pains enough to torture me .
I left him well .

Go , bear him in thine arms .
I am amaz'd , methinks , and lose my way 
Among the thorns and dangers of this world .
How easy dost thou take all England up !
From forth this morsel of dead royalty ,
The life , the right and truth of all this realm 
Is fled to heaven ; and England now is left 
To tug and scamble and to part by the teeth 
The unow'd interest of proud swelling state .
Now for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty 
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest ,
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace :
Now powers from home and discontents at home 
Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits ,
As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast ,
The imminent decay of wrested pomp .
Now happy he whose cloak and ceinture can 
Hold out this tempest . Bear away that child 
And follow me with speed : I'll to the king :
A thousand businesses are brief in hand ,
And heaven itself doth frown upon the land .

Thus have I yielded up into your hand 
The circle of my glory .

Take again 
From this my hand , as holding of the pope ,
Your sovereign greatness and authority .

Now keep your holy word : go meet the French ,
And from his holiness use all your power 
To stop their marches 'fore we are inflam'd .
Our discontented counties do revolt ,
Our people quarrel with obedience ,
Swearing allegiance and the love of soul 
To stranger blood , to foreign royalty .
This inundation of mistemper'd humour 
Rests by you only to be qualified :
Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick ,
That present medicine must be minister'd ,
Or overthrow incurable ensues .

It was my breath that blew this tempest up 
Upon your stubborn usage of the pope ;
But since you are a gentle convertite ,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war 
And make fair weather in your blustering land .
On this Ascension-day , remember well ,
Upon your oath of service to the pope ,
Go I to make the French lay down their arms .


Is this Ascension-day ? Did not the prophet 
Say that before Ascension-day at noon 
My crown I should give off ? Even so I have :
I did suppose it should be on constraint ;
But , heaven be thank'd , it is but voluntary .


All Kent hath yielded ; nothing there holds out 
But Dover Castle : London hath receiv'd ,
Like a kind host , the Dauphin and his powers :
Your nobles will not hear you , but are gone 
To offer service to your enemy ;
And wild amazement hurries up and down 
The little number of your doubtful friends .

Would not my lords return to me again 
After they heard young Arthur was alive ?

They found him dead and cast into the streets ,
An empty casket , where the jewel of life 
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away .

That villain Hubert told me he did live .

So , on my soul , he did , for aught he knew .
But wherefore do you droop ? why look you sad ?
Be great in act , as you have been in thought ;
Let not the world see fear and sad distrust 
Govern the motion of a kingly eye :
Be stirring as the time ; be fire with fire ;
Threaten the threatener , and outface the brow 
Of bragging horror : so shall inferior eyes ,
That borrow their behaviours from the great ,
Grow great by your example and put on 
The dauntless spirit of resolution .
Away ! and glister like the god of war 
When he intendeth to become the field :
Show boldness and aspiring confidence .
What ! shall they seek the lion in his den 
And fright him there ? and make him tremble there ?
O ! let it not be said . Forage , and run 
To meet displeasure further from the doors ,
And grapple with him ere he comes so nigh .

The legate of the pope hath been with me ,
And I have made a happy peace with him ;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers 
Led by the Dauphin .

O inglorious league !
Shall we , upon the footing of our land ,
Send fair-play orders and make compromise ,
Insinuation , parley and base truce 
To arms invasive ? shall a beardless boy ,
A cocker'd silken wanton , brave our fields ,
And flesh his spirit in a war-like soul ,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread ,
And find no check ? Let us , my liege , to arms :
Perchance the cardinal cannot make your peace ;
Or if he do , let it at least be said 
They saw we had a purpose of defence .

Have thou the ordering of this present time .

Away then , with good courage ! yet , I know ,
Our party may well meet a prouder foe .


My Lord Melun , let this be copied out ,
And keep it safe for our remembrance .
Return the precedent to these lords again ;
That , having our fair order written down ,
Both they and we , perusing o'er these notes ,
May know wherefore we took the sacrament ,
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable .

Upon our sides it never shall be broken .
And , noble Dauphin , albeit we swear 
A voluntary zeal , an unurg'd faith 
To your proceedings ; yet , believe me , prince ,
I am not glad that such a sore of time 
Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt ,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound 
By making many . O ! it grieves my soul 
That I must draw this metal from my side 
To be a widow-maker ! O ! and there 
Where honourable rescue and defence 
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury .
But such is the infection of the time ,
That , for the health and physic of our right ,
We cannot deal but with the very hand 
Of stern injustice and confused wrong .
And is't not pity , O my grieved friends !
That we , the sons and children of this isle ,
Were born to see so sad an hour as this ;
Wherein we step after a stranger march 
Upon her gentle bosom , and fill up 
Her enemies' ranks ,I must withdraw and weep 
Upon the spot of this enforced cause ,
To grace the gentry of a land remote ,
And follow unacquainted colours here ?
What , here ? O nation ! that thou couldst remove ;
That Neptune's arms , who clippeth thee about ,
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself ,
And gripple thee unto a pagan shore ;
Where these two Christian armies might combine 
The blood of malice in a vein of league ,
And not to spend it so unneighbourly !

A noble temper dost thou show in this ;
And great affections wrestling in thy bosom 
Do make an earthquake of nobility .
O ! what a noble combat hast thou fought 
Between compulsion and a brave respect .
Let me wipe off this honourable dew ,
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks :
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears ,
Being an ordinary inundation ;
But this effusion of such manly drops ,
This shower , blown up by tempest of the soul ,
Startles mine eyes , and makes me more amaz'd 
Than had I seen the vaulty top of heaven 
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors .
Lift up thy brow , renowned Salisbury ,
And with a great heart heave away this storm :
Commend these waters to those baby eyes 
That never saw the giant world enrag'd ;
Nor met with fortune other than at feasts ,
Full warm of blood , of mirth , of gossiping .
Come , come ; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 
Into the purse of rich prosperity 
As Lewis himself : so , nobles , shall you all ,
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine .


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 set the name of right 

With holy breath .

Hail , noble prince of France !
The next is this : King John hath reconcil'd 
Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in 
That so stood out against the holy church ,
The great metropolis and see of Rome .
Therefore thy threat'ning colours now wind up ,
And tame the savage 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 show .

Your grace shall pardon me ; I will not back :
I am too high-born to be propertied ,
To be a secondary at control ,
Or useful serving-man and instrument 
To any sovereign state throughout the world .
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 
Between this chastis'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 same weak wind which enkindled it .
You taught me how to know the face of right ,
Acquainted me with interest to this land ,
Yea , thrust this enterprise 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 slave ? What penny hath Rome borne ,
What men provided , what munition sent ,
To underprop this action ? is't not I 
That undergo this charge ? who else but I ,
And such as to my claim are liable ,
Sweat in this business and maintain this war ?
Have I not heard these islanders shout 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 set ?
No , no , on my soul , it never shall be said .

You look but on the outside of this work .

Outside or inside , 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 fiery spirits from the world ,
To outlook conquest and to win renown 
Even in the jaws of danger and of death .

What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us ?


According to the fair play of the world ,
Let me have audience ; I am sent 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 .

The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite ,
And will not temporize with my entreaties :
He flatly says he'll not lay down his arms .

By all the blood that ever fury breath'd ,
The youth says well . Now hear our English king ;
For thus his royalty doth speak in me .
He is prepar'd ; and reason too he should :
This apish and unmannerly approach ,
This harness'd masque and unadvised revel ,
This unhair'd sauciness 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 stable planks :
To lie like pawns lock'd up in chests and trunks ;
To hug with swine ; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill and shake ,
Even at the crying of your nation's crow ,
Thinking this 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 souse annoyance that comes near his nest .
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-visag'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 .

There end thy brave , and turn thy face in peace ;
We grant thou canst outscold us : fare thee well ;
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler .

Give me leave to speak .

No , I will speak .

We will attend to neither .
Strike up the drums ; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest and our being here .

Indeed , your drums , being beaten , will cry out ;
And so shall 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 shall 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 trusting to this halting legate here ,
Whom he hath us'd rather for sport than need ,
Is warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb'd death , whose office is this day 
To feast upon whole thousands of the French .

Strike up our drums , to find this danger out .

And thou shalt find it , Dauphin , do not doubt .


How goes the day with us ? O ! tell me , Hubert .

Badly , I fear . How fares your majesty ?

This fever , that hath troubled me so long ,
Lies heavy on me : O ! my heart is sick .


My lord , your valiant kinsman , Faulconbridge ,
Desires your majesty to leave the field ,
And send him word by me which way you go .

Tell him , toward Swinstead , to the abbey there .

Be of good comfort : for the great supply 
That was expected by the Dauphin here ,
Are wrack'd three nights ago on Goodwin sands .
This news was brought to Richard but even now .
The French fight coldly , and retire themselves .

Ay me ! this tyrant fever burns me up ,
And will not let me welcome this good news .
Set on toward Swinstead : to my litter straight ;
Weakness possesseth me , and I am faint .


I did not think the king so stor'd with friends .

Up once again ; put spirit in the French :
If they miscarry we miscarry too .

That misbegotten devil , Faulconbridge ,
In spite of spite , alone upholds the day .

They say King John , sore sick , hath left the field .


Lead me to the revolts of England here .

When we were happy we had other names .

It is the Count Melun .

Wounded to death .

Fly , noble English ; you are bought and sold ;
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion ,
And welcome home again discarded faith .
Seek out King John and fall before his feet ;
For if the French be lords of this loud day ,
He means to recompense the pains you take 
By cutting off your heads . Thus hath he sworn ,
And I with him , and many moe with me ,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmundsbury ;
Even on that altar where we swore to you 
Dear amity and everlasting love .

May this be possible ? may this be true ?

Have I not hideous death within my view ,
Retaining but a quantity of life ,
Which bleeds away , even as a form of wax 
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?
What in the world should make me now deceive ,
Since I must lose the use of all deceit ?
Why should I then be false , since it is true 
That I must die here and live hence by truth ?
I say again , if Lewis do win the day ,
He is forsworn , if e'er those eyes of yours 
Behold another day break in the east :
But even this night , whose black contagious breath 
Already smokes about the burning crest 
Of the old , feeble , and day-wearied sun ,
Even this ill night , your breathing shall expire ,
Paying the fine of rated treachery 
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives ,
If Lewis by your assistance win the day .
Commend me to one Hubert with your king ;
The love of him , and this respect besides ,
For that my grandsire was an Englishman ,
Awakes my conscience to confess all this .
In lieu whereof , I pray you , bear me hence 
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ,
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts 
In peace , and part this body and my soul 
With contemplation and devout desires .

We do believe thee : and beshrew my soul 
But I do love the favour and the form 
Of this most fair occasion , by the which 
We will untread the steps of damned flight ,
And like a bated and retired flood ,
Leaving our rankness and irregular course ,
Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd ,
And calmly run on in obedience ,
Even to our ocean , to our great King John .
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ,
For I do see the cruel pangs of death 
Right in thine eye . Away , my friends ! New flight ;
And happy newness , that intends old right .


The sun of heaven methought was loath to set ,
But stay'd and made the western welkin blush ,
When the English measur'd backward their own ground 
In faint retire . O ! bravely came we off ,
When with a volley of our needless shot ,
After such bloody toil , we bid good night ,
And wound our tottering colours clearly up ,
Last in the field , and almost lords of it !


Where is my prince , the Dauphin ?

Here : what news ?

The Count Melun is slain ; the English lords ,
By his persuasion , are again fall'n off ;
And your supply , which you have wish'd so long ,
Are cast away and sunk , on Goodwin sands .

Ah , foul shrewd news ! Beshrew thy very heart !
I did not think to be so sad to-night 
As this hath made me . Who was he that said 
King John did fly an hour or two before 
The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?

Whoever spoke it , it is true , my lord .

Well ; keep good quarter and good care to-night :
The day shall not be up so soon as I ,
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow .


Who's there ? speak , ho ! speak quickly , or I shoot .

A friend . What art thou ?

Of the part of England .

Whither dost thou go ?

What's that to thee ? Why may not I demand 
Of thine affairs as well as thou of mine ?

Hubert , I think ?

Thou hast a perfect thought :
I will upon all hazards well believe 
Thou art my friend , that know'st my tongue so well .
Who art thou ?

Who thou wilt : and if thou please ,
Thou mayst befriend me so much as to think 
I come one way of the Plantagenets .

Unkind remembrance ! thou and eyeless night 
Have done me shame : brave soldier , pardon me ,
That any accent breaking from thy tongue 
Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear .

Come , come ; sans compliment , what news abroad ?

Why , here walk I in the black brow of night ,
To find you out .

Brief , then ; and what's the news ?

O ! my sweet sir , news fitting to the night ,
Black , fearful , comfortless , and horrible .

Show me the very wound of this ill news :
I am no woman ; I'll not swound at it .

The king , I fear , is poison'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechless ; and broke out 
To acquaint you with this evil , that you might 
The better arm you to the sudden time 
Than if you had at leisure known of this .

How did he take it ? who did taste to him ?

A monk , I tell you ; a resolved villain ,
Whose bowels suddenly burst out : the king 
Yet speaks , and peradventure may recover .

Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?

Why , know you not ? the lords are all come back ,
And brought Prince Henry in their company ;
At whose request the king hath pardon'd them ,
And they are all about his majesty .

Withhold thine indignation , mighty heaven ,
And tempt us not to bear above our power !
I'll tell thee , Hubert , half my power this night ,
Passing these flats , are taken by the tide ;
These Lincoln Washes have devoured them :
Myself , well-mounted , hardly have escap'd .
Away before ! conduct me to the king ;
I doubt he will be dead or ere I come .


It is too late : the life of all his blood 
Is touch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain ,
Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house ,
Doth , by the idle comments that it makes ,
Foretell the ending of mortality .


His highness yet doth speak ; and holds belief 
That , being brought into the open air ,
It would allay the burning quality 
Of that fell poison which assaileth him .

Let him be brought into the orchard here .
Doth he still rage ?


He is more patient 
Than when you left him : even now he sung .

O , vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes 
In their continuance will not feel themselves .
Death , having prey'd upon the outward parts ,
Leaves them invisible ; and his siege is now 
Against the mind , the which he pricks and wounds 
With many legions of strange fantasies ,
Which , in their throng and press to that last hold ,
Confound themselves . 'Tis strange that death should sing .
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan ,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death ,
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings 
His soul and body to their lasting rest 

Be of good comfort , prince ; for you are born 
To set a form upon that indigest 
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude .


Ay , marry , now my soul hath elbow-room ;
It would not out at windows , nor at doors .
There is so hot a summer in my bosom 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust :
I am a scribbled form , drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment , and against this fire 
Do I shrink up .

How fares your majesty ?

Poison'd , ill-fare ; dead , forsook , cast off ;
And none of you will bid the winter come 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw ;
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north 
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips 
And comfort me with cold . I do not ask you much :
I beg cold comfort ; and you are so strait 
And so ingrateful you deny me that .

O ! that there were some virtue in my tears ,
That might relieve you .

The salt in them is hot .
Within me is a hell ; and there the poison 
Is as a fiend confin'd to tyrannize 
On unreprievable condemned blood .


O ! I am scalded with my violent motion 
And spleen of speed to see your majesty .

O cousin ! thou art come to set mine eye :
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ,
And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail 
Are turned to one thread , one little hair ;
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by ,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered ;
And then all this thou seest is but a clod 
And module of confounded royalty .

The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ,
Where heaven he knows how we shall answer him :
For in a night the best part of my power ,
As I upon advantage did remove ,
Were in the Washes all unwarily 
Devoured by the unexpected flood .


You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear .
My liege ! my lord ! But now a king , now thus .

Even so must I run on , and even so stop .
What surety of the world , what hope , what stay ,
When this was now a king , and now is clay ?

Art thou gone so ? I do but stay behind 
To do the office for thee of revenge ,
And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven ,
As it on earth hath been thy servant still .
Now , now , you stars , that move in your right spheres ,
Where be your powers ? Show now your mended faiths ,
And instantly return with me again ,
To push destruction and perpetual shame 
Out of the weak door of our fainting land .
Straight let us seek , or straight we shall be sought :
The Dauphin rages at our very heels .

It seems you know not then so much as we .
The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest ,
Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin ,
And brings from him such offers of our peace 
As we with honour and respect may take ,
With purpose presently to leave this war .

He will the rather do it when he sees 
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence .

Nay , it is in a manner done already ;
For many carriages he hath dispatch'd 
To the sea-side , and put his cause and quarrel 
To the disposing of the cardinal :
With whom yourself , myself , and other lords ,
If you think meet , this afternoon will post 
To consummate this business happily .

Let it be so . And you , my noble prince ,
With other princes that may best be spar'd ,
Shall wait upon your father's funeral .

At Worcester must his body be interr'd ;
For so he will'd it .

Thither shall it then .
And happily may your sweet self put on 
The lineal state and glory of the land !
To whom , with all submission , on my knee ,
I do bequeath my faithful services 
And true subjection everlastingly .

And the like tender of our love we make ,
To rest without a spot for evermore .

I have a kind soul that would give you thanks ,
And knows not how to do it but with tears .

O ! let us pay the time but needful woe 
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs .
This England never did , nor never shall ,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror ,
But when it first did help to wound itself .
Now these her princes are come home again ,
Come the three corners of the world in arms ,
And we shall shock them . Nought shall make us rue ,
If England to itself do rest but true .