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 doth 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 threatn’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,
Craves harbourage within your city-walls.
KING PHILIP.
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 warlike 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, hath 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?
FIRST CITIZEN.
In brief: we are the King of England’s subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
KING JOHN.
Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.
CITIZEN.
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.
KING JOHN.
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,—
BASTARD.
Bastards, and else.
KING JOHN.
To verify our title with their lives.
KING PHILIP.
As many and as well-born bloods as those,—
BASTARD.
Some bastards too.
KING PHILIP.
Stand in his face, to contradict his claim.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both.
KING JOHN.
Then God forgive the sin 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!
KING PHILIP.
Amen, Amen!—Mount, chevaliers; to arms!
BASTARD.
Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e’er since
Sits on his horse’ back at mine hostess’ door,
Teach us some fence!—Sirrah [To AUSTRIA.], 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.
AUSTRIA.
Peace! no more.
BASTARD.
O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar.
KING JOHN.
Up higher to the plain; where we’ll set forth
In best appointment all our regiments.
BASTARD.
Speed, then, to take advantage of the field.
KING PHILIP.
It shall be so;—[To LOUIS.] and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand.—God and our right!
[Exeunt severally.]
[After excursions, enter a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.]
FRENCH HERALD.
You men of Angiers, open wide your gates
And let young Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, in,
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie 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,