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 cudgel'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.

Eli. 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.1

1 Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

K. Phil. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city: What say you?

K. John. 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,

[1] We have here a very unusual, and, I think, not very just image of zeal, which, in its highest degree, is represented by others as a name, but by Shakspeare is a frost. To repress zeal, in the language of others, is to cool, in Shakspeare's to melt it; when it exerts its utmost power it is commonly said to flame, but by Shakspeare to be congealed. JOHNS.

The poet means to compare zeal to metal in a state of fusion, and not te dissolving ice. STEEV.

As she in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any princess of the world.

K. Phil. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face.

Lew. 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.

[Whispers with BLANCH. Bast. 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.

Blanch. My uncle's will, in this respect, is mine:
If he see aught in you, that makes him like,

That any thing 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.

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

Blanch. That she is bound in honour 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 pleas'd withal,

Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

K. Phil. It likes us well ;-Young princes, close your hands.

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

K. Phil. 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.
Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent.
K. Phil. 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 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,
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.
[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:2

And France, (whose armour conscience buckled on ;
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field,

As God's own soldier,) rounded in the ear3

With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil;

[2] To part and to depart were formerly synonymous. STEEV. [3] i. e. whispered in the ear. This phrase is frequently used by Chaucer, as well as later writers. STEEVENS.

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,
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!

ACT III.

[Exit,

SCENE 1.-The same. The French King's Tent. Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.

Constance.

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;

I

A woman, naturally born to fears;

And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest,
With my vext spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son ?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum,
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
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! Oh, boy, then where art thou?
France friend with England! what becomes of me?-
Fellow, be gone; I cannot brook thy sight;
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.
Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done,

But spoke the harm that is by others done?

Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is,

As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

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

Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,

Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots, and sightless2 stains,

[1] This was not the fact. Constance was at this time married to a third husband, Guido, brother to the Viscount of Touars.

MAL.

[2] The poet uses sightless for that which we now express by unsightly, Jisagreeable to the eyes. JOHNS.