Then let Confufion of one Part confirm
The other's Peace; 'till ther, Blows, Blood, and Death.
K. John. Whose Party do the Townfmen yet admit?
K. Philip. Speak Citizens, for England, who's your King?
Citi. The King of England, when we know the King.
K. Philip. Know him in us, that here hold up his Right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great Deputy,
And bear Poffeffion of our Perfon here,
Lord of our Prefence, Angiers, and of you.
Citi. A greater Power than we denies all this;"
And 'till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former Scruple in our ftrong barr'd Gates:
Kings of our Fear, until our Fears refolv'd
Be by fome certain King purg'd and depos'd.
Baft. By Heav'n, thefe Scroyles of Angiers flout you Kings, And ftand fecurely on their Battlements,
As in a Theatre, whence they gape and point.
At your induftrious Scenes, and Acts of Death.
You Royal Presences be rul'd by me;
Do like the Mutiners of Jerufalem,
Be Friends a while, and both conjointly bend
Your fharpeft Deeds of Malice on this Town.
By Eaft and Weft let France and England mount
Their battering Cannon charged to the Mouths,
'Till their Soul-fearing Clamours have braul'd down :
The flinty Ribs of this contemptuous City.
I'd play inceffantly upon thefe Jades;
Even 'till unfenced Defolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar Air:
That done, diffever your united Strengths,
And part your mingled Colours once again.
Tun Face to Face, and bloody Point to Point;
Then in a Moment Fortune fhall cull forth,
Ost of one Side, her happy Minion,
To whim in favour the fhall give the Day,
And kifs him with a glorious Vi&ory.
How like you this wild Courfel, mighty States;
Smacks it nor fomething of the Policy?
K. John. Now by the Sky that hangs above our Heads,
I like it well. France, fhall we knit our Powers,
And lay this Angiers even with the Ground,
Then after fight who fhall be King of it?
Baft. And if thou haft the Mettle of a
Being wrong'd as we are by this peevish Town,
Turn thou the Mouth of thy Artillery,
As we will ours, against these faucy Walls;
And when that we have dafh'd them to the Ground,
Why then defie each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon our felves for Heav'n or Hell.
K. Philip. Let it be fo; fay, where will you affault? K. John. We from the Weft will fend Deftruction Into this City's Bofom.
Auft. I from the North.
K. Philip. Our Thunder from the South,
Shall rain their Drift of Bullers on this Town.
Baft. O prudent Difcipline! From North to South;
Auftria and France shoot in each others Mouth,
I'll ftir them to it; come away, away.
Citi. Hear us great Kings, vouchsafe a while to ftay,
And I fhall thew you Peace, and fair-fac'd League.
Win you this City without Stroak or Wound;
Rescue thofe breathing Lives to die in Beds,
That here come Sacrifices for the Field;
Perfevere not, but hear me, mighty Kings.
K. John. Speak on; with Favour we are bent to hear.
Citi. 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 lufty Love fhould go in queft of Beauty,
Where could he find it fairer, than in Blanch?
If zealous Love should go in fearch of Virtue,
Where could he find it purer than in Blanch?
If Love ambitious, fought a Match of Birth,
Whofe Veins bound icher Blood than Lady Blanch?
Such as he is, in Beauty, Virtue, Birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way compleat;
If not compleat of, fay he is not fhe;
And the again wants nothing, to name want,
If Want it be not, that he is not he.
He is the half Part of a blessed Man,
Left to be finished by fuch as the;
And the a fair divided Excellence,
Whofe fulness of Perfection lyes in him.
O two fuch Silver Currents, when they join,
Do glorifie the Banks that bound them in:
And two fuch Shores, to two fuch Streams made one,
Two fuch controlling Bounds fhall you be, Kings,
To these two Princes, if you marry them:
This Union fhall do more than Battery can,
To our faft closed Gates: For at this Match,
With fwifter Spleen than Powder can enforce,
The Mouth of Paffage fhall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance; but without this Match,
The Sea enraged is not half fo 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.
Baft. Here's a Stay,
That shakes the rotten Carkafs of old Death
Out of his Rags. Here's a large Mouth indeed,
That fpits forth Death, and Mountains, Rocks, and Seas,
Talks as famil ary of roaring Lions,
As Maids of thirteen do of Puppy-dogs.
What Cannoneer begot this lufty Blood,
H: fpeaks plain Cannon fire, and smoak, and bounce,
He gives the Baftinado with his Tongue:
Our Ears are cudgel'd, not a Word of his
Bur buffets better than a Fift of France;
Zounds I was never fo bethumpt with Words,
Since I firft call'd my Brother's Father Dad.
Eli. Son, lift to this Conjunction, make this Match,
Give with our Neice a Dowry large enough;
For by this Knot, thou shalt fo furely tie
Thy now unfur'd Affurance to the Crown,
That yon green Boy fhall have no Sun to ripe
The Bloom that promifeth a mighty Fruit:
I fee a yielding in the Looks of France;
Mark how they whifper, urge them while their Souls
Are capable of this Ambition,
Left Zeal now melted by the windy breath
Of Loft Petitions, Pity and Remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
Citi. Why anfwer not the double Majefties, This friendly Treaty of our threatned Town?
K. Philip. Speak England firft, that hath been forward firft 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 she 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 protest I never lov'd my felf
'Till now, infixed I beheld my self,
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 respect is mine,
If he see 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 speak 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 say these young ones? What fay you, my Blanch. That he is bound in Honour fill to do What you in Wifdom 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 thoufand 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.
Auft. And your Lips too, for I am well affur'd,
That I did fo, when I was firft 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 presently,
The Rites of Marriage fhall 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 Highnefs 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 M. ffenger bid her repair
To our Solemnity: I truft we fhall,
If not fill up the Meafure of her Wil!,
Yet in fome measure fatisfie her fo,
That we shall ftop her Exclamation.
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