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.

K. John. What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

Blanch. That she is bound in honor still to do What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to say.

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

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

K. John. 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 pleased withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

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

Aust. And your lips, too; for I am well assured That I did so, when I was first assured.

K. Phi. 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 solemnized.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. Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent. K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league, that we

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 turned another way,
To our own vantage.

K. John.
We will heal up all;
For we'll create young Arthur duke of Bretagne,
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,

have

Yet in some measure satisfy her so,
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlooked-for, unprepared pomp.

[Exeunt all but the Bastard.- The Citizens
retire from the walls.

Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part;

And France, whose armor 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-faced gentleman, tickling commodity,-
Commodity, the bias of the world;

The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even, upon even ground;
Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent;-
And this same bias, this commodity,

This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapped on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid,
From a resolved and honorable war,

To a most base and vile-concluded peace.-
And why rail I on this commodity?

But for because he hath not wooed me yet.
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand,
When his fair angels would 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.

Y*

[Exit.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The same. The French King's Tent.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.

Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace!
False blood to false blood joined! gone to be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch? and Blanch those provinces ?
It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be well advised, 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 punished for thus frighting me,
For I am sick, and capable of fears;

Oppressed 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 vexed 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.

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

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

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

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

Const. 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, Patched 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 joined 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, changed, and won from thee; She adulterates hourly with thine uncle John; And with her golden hand hath plucked 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.

Sal.

Pardon me, madam,

I may not go without you to the kings.

Const. 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 stout.
To me, and to the state of my great grief,
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great,
That no supporter but the huge, firm earth
Can hold it up. Here I and sorrow sit;
Here is my throne; bid kings come bow to it.

[She throws herself on the ground.

Enter KING JOHN, KING PHILIP, LEWIS, BLANCH, ELINOR, Bastard, AUSTRIA, and Attendants.

K. Phi. '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 holyday.

Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday!—

[Rising.

What hath this day deserved? 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 crossed;
But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;
No bargains break, that are not this day made:
This day, all things begun, come to ill end;
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!

K. Phi. By Heaven, lady, you shall have no cause
To curse the fair proceedings of this day.
Have I not pawned to you my majesty?

Const. You have beguiled me with a counterfeit,
Resembling majesty; which, being touched, 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 vigor 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 perjured 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 perjured kings!
Hear me, O, hear me!

Aust.

Lady Constance, peace. Const. 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 perjured, 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