Citi. Why answer not the double Majefties, This friendly Treaty of our threatned Town?
K. Philip. Speak England first, that hath been forward first To speak unto this City: What fay you?
K. John. If that the Dauphin there, thy Princely Sor,
Can in this Book of Beauty read I love;
Her Dowry fhall weigh equal with the Queen,
For Angiers, and fair Tourain, Main, Poyetiers,
And all that we upon this fide the Sea,
Except this City now by us befieg'd,
Find liable to our Crown and Dignity,
Shall gild her Bridal Bed, and make her rich
In Titles, Honours, and Promotions;
And the in Beauty, Education, Blood,
Holds Hands with any Princefs of the World.
K. Philip. What fay ft thou, Boy? Look in the Lady's Face. Lewis. I do, my Lord, and in her Eye I find
A Wonder, or a wondrous Miracle,
The Shadow of my felf form'd in her Eye,
Which being but the Shadow of your Son,
Becomes a Son, and makes your Son a Shadow:
I do proteft I never lov'd my felf
'Till now, infixed I beheld my felf,
Drawn in the flattering Table of her Eye.
Baft. 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 efpie
Himfelf Love's Traitor; this is pity now,
That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd there fhould be,
In fuch a Love, fo vile a Lout as he.
Blanch. My Uncle's Will in this refpect is mine,
If he fee ought in you that makes him like,
That any thing he fees which moves his liking
I can with eafe tranflate it to my Will:
Or if you will, to fpeak more properly,
I will enforce it eafily to my Love.
Further I will not flatter you my Lord,
That all I fee in you is worthy Love,
Than this, that nothing do I fee in you,
Though churlish Thoughts themselves fhould be your Judge,
That I can find, fhould merit any Hate.
[Niece? K. John. What fay these young ones? What fay you, my Blanch. That he is bound in Honour ftill to do
What you in Wisdom ftill vouchsafe to say.
K. John. Speak then, Prince Dauphin, can you love this Lady?
Lewis. Nay, ask me if I can refrain from Love,
For I do love her moft unfeignedly.
K. John. Then do I give Volqueffen, Tourain, Main,
Poytiers, and Anjou, thefe 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.
K. Philip. It likes us well; young Princes, clofe your Hands,
Aust. And your Lips too, for I am well affur'd,
That I did fo, when I was first affur'd.
K. Philip. Now Citizens of Angiers ope your Gates,
Let in that amity which you have made,
For at Saint Marie's Chappel prefently,
The Rites of Marriage (hall be folemniz'd.
Is not the Lady Conftance in this Troop?
I know she is not, for this Match made up,
Her prefence would have interrupted much,
Where is the and her Son, tell me, who knows?
Lewis. She is fad and paffionate at your Highness Tent. K. Philip. 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.
K. John. We will heal up all,
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Britain,
And Earl of Richmond, and this rich fair Town
We make him Lord of. Call the Lady Conftance,
Some speedy Messenger bid her repair
To our Solemnity: I truft we shall,
If not fill up the Measure of her Wil!,
Yet in fome measure fatisfie her fo,
That we shall stop her Exclamation.
Go we, as well as hafte will fuffer us,
To this unlook'd for, unprepared Pomp. [Ex. all but Bast.
Baft. Mad World, mad Kings, mad Compofition;
John to ftop Arthur's Title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part;
And France, whofe Armour Confcience buckled on,
Whom Zeal and Charity brought to the Field,
As God's own Soldier, rounded in the Ear
With that fame Purpose-changer, that fly Devil,
That Broker, that ftill 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 lofe,
But the word Maid, cheats the poor Maid of that,
That smooth-fac'd Gentleman, tickling Commodity,
Commodity, the Biafs of the World,
The World, who of it felf is poised well,
Made to run even, upon even Ground;
'Till this Advantage, this vile drawing Biafs,
This fway of Motion, this Commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpofe, courfe, intent;
And this fame Biafs, this Commodity,
This Bawd, this Broker, that all changing-world,
Clapt on the outward Eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin'd aid,
From a refolv'd and honourable War,
To a moft bafe and vile concluded Peace.
And why rail I on this Commodity?
But for becaule he hath not wooed me yet:
Not that I have the power to clutch my Hand,
When his fair Angels would falute 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 fay there is no Sin but to be rich:
And being rich, my Virtue then shall be,
To fay there is no Vice, but Beggary,
Since Kings break Faith upon Commodity,
Gain be my Lord, for I will worship thee.
Enter Conftance, Arthur and Salisbury.
Conft. Good to falle Blood join'd! Gone to be
ONE to be marry'd! Gone to fwear a Peace!
Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch thofe Provinces !
It is not fo, thou haft mispoke, misheard;
Be well advis'd, tell o'er thy Tale again,
It cannot be, thou doft but fay 'tis fo.
I truft I may not truft 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 fick, and capable of Fears,
Oppreft with Wrongs, and therefore full of Fears,
A Widow, husbandless, fubje& to Fears,
A Woman naturally born to Fears;
And though thou now confefs thou didst but jeft,"
With my vext Spirits I cannot take a Truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this Day.
What doft thou mean by fhaking of thy Head?
Why doft thou look fo fadly on my Son?
What means that Hand upon that Breaft of thine?
Why holds thine Eye that lamentable Rheum,
Like a proud River peering o'er his bounds?
Be thefe fad Signs confirmers of thy Words?
Then fpeak again; not all thy former Tale,
But this one word, whether thy Tale be true.
Sal. As true, as I believe you think them falfe,
That give you caufe to prove my faying true,
Conft. Oh if thou teach me to believe this Sorrow.
Teach thou this Sorrow how to make me dye,
And let Belief and Life encounter fo,
As doth the Fury of two defperate Men,
Which in the very meeting fall and dye.
Lewis marry Blanch! O Boy, then where art thou?
France Friend with England, what becomes of me?
Fellow be gone, I cannot brook thy fight;
This News hath made thee a moft ugly Man.
Sal what other Harm have I, good Lady, done,
But ipoke the Harm that is by others done?
Conft. Which Harm within it felf fo hainous is,
As it makes harmful all that speak of it.
Arth. I do befeech you, Madam, be content.
Conft. If thou that bidft me be content, wert grim,
Ugly, and flandrous to thy Mother's Womb,
Full of unpleafing Blots, and fightlefs Stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, fwart, prodigious,
Patch'd with foul Moles, and Eye-offending Marks,
I would not care, I then would be content,
For then I would not love thee: No, nor thou
Become thy great Birth, nor deferve 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 may'ft with Lillies boaft,
And with the half blown Rofe. But Fortune, oh,
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee,
Sh'adulterates hourly with thy Unkle John,
And with her golden Hand hath pluckt on France
To tread down fair refpect of Sovereingty,
And made his Majefty the Bawd to theirs.
France is a Bawd to Fortune, and King John,
That ftrumpet Fortune, that ufurping John:
Tell me, thou Fellow, is not France for worn?
Envenom him with Words, or get thee gone,
And leave thefe Woes alone, which I alone
Am bound to under-bear.
Sal. Pardon me, Madam,
I may not go without you to the Kings.
Conft. Thou may'ft, thou fhalt, I will not go with thee,
I will inftruct my Sorrow to be proud,
For Grief is proud, and makes his owner ftoop;
To me and to the State of my great Grief,
Let Kings affemble: For my Grief's fo great
That no Supporter but the huge firm Earth
Can hold it up: Here I and Sorrows fir,
Here is my Throne, bid Kings come bow to it.
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