King John: II, Scene 1

King Philip

1 - 11

Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
Richard, that robb’d the lion of his heart,
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave;
And for amends to his posterity,
At our importance hither is he come
To spread his colors, boy, in thy behalf,
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.

Arthur

12 - 17

God shall forgive you Coeur de Lion’s death
The rather that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a powerless hand.
But with a heart full of unstained love.
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

King Philip

18

A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?

Duke of Austria

19 - 31

Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss
As seal to this indenture of my love:
That to my home I will no more return
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac’d shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean’s roaring tides
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg’d in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king; till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

Constance

32 - 34

O, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength
To make a more requital to your love!

Duke of Austria

35 - 36

The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords
In such a just and charitable war.

King Philip

37 - 43

Well, then to work! Our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.
Call for our chiefest men of discipline
To cull the plots of best advantages.
We’ll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen’s blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.

Constance

44 - 49

Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis’d you stain your swords with blood.
My Lord Chatillion may from England bring
That right in peace which here we urge in war,
And then we shall repent each drop of blood
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.

King Philip

50 - 53

A wonder, lady! Lo upon thy wish
Our messenger Chatillion is arriv’d!
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord,
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillion, speak.

Chatillion

54 - 78

Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stay’d, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I;
His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the king’s deceas’d,
And all th’ unsettled humors of the land,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies’ faces and fierce dragons’ spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits
Than now the English bottoms have waft o’er
Did never float upon the swelling tide
To do offense and scathe in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance. They are at hand,
Drum beats.
To parley or to fight, therefore prepare.

King Philip

79

How much unlook’d for is this expedition!

Duke of Austria

80 - 83

By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavor for defense,
For courage mounteth with occasion.
Let them be welcome then, we are prepar’d.

King John

84 - 88

Peace be to France—if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own;
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven,
Whiles we, God’s wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven.

King Philip

89 - 109

Peace be to England, if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace.
England we love, and for that England’s sake
With burden of our armor here we sweat.
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far
That thou hast under-wrought his lawful king,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
Look here upon thy brother Geffrey’s face:
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his;
This little abstract doth contain that large
Which died in Geffrey; and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.
That Geffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son; England was Geffrey’s right,
And this is Geffrey’s in the name of God.
How comes it then that thou art call’d a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o’ermasterest?

King John

110 - 111

From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?

King Philip

112 - 117

From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy,
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong,
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.

King John

118

Alack, thou dost usurp authority.

King Philip

119

Excuse it is to beat usurping down.

Queen Elinor

120

Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?

Constance

121

Let me make answer: thy usurping son.

Queen Elinor

122 - 123

Out, insolent, thy bastard shall be king
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!

Constance

124 - 131

My bed was ever to thy son as true
As thine was to thy husband, and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geffrey
Than thou and John in manners, being as like
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard? By my soul I think
His father never was so true begot—
It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother.

Queen Elinor

132

There’s a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.

Constance

133

There’s a good grandame, boy, that would blot thee.

Duke of Austria

134

Peace!

Bastard

135

Hear the crier.

Duke of Austria

136

What the devil art thou?

Bastard

137 - 142

One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
And ’a may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valor plucks dead lions by the beard;
I’ll smoke your skin-coat and I catch you right.
Sirrah, look to’t, i’ faith I will, i’ faith.

Blanch of Spain

143 - 144

O, well did he become that lion’s robe,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe!

Bastard

145 - 148

It lies as sightly on the back of him
As great Alcides’ shows upon an ass.
But, ass, I’ll take that burden from your back,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.

Duke of Austria

149 - 151

What cracker is this same that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
King Philip, determine what we shall do straight.

King Philip

152 - 156

Women and fools, break off your conference.
King John, this is the very sum of all:
England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee.
Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms?

King John

157 - 161

My life as soon. I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Britain, yield thee to my hand,
And out of my dear love I’ll give thee more
Than e’er the coward hand of France can win.
Submit thee, boy.

Queen Elinor

162

Come to thy grandame, child.

Constance

163 - 166

Do, child, go to it grandame, child,
Give grandame kingdom, and it grandame will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig.
There’s a good grandame.

Arthur

167 - 169

Good my mother, peace.
I would that I were low laid in my grave,
I am not worth this coil that’s made for me.

Queen Elinor

170

His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.

Constance

171 - 176

Now shame upon you, whe’er she does or no!
His grandame’s wrongs, and not his mother’s shames,
Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee;
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib’d
To do him justice, and revenge on you.

Queen Elinor

177

Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!

Constance

178 - 186

Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth,
Call not me slanderer! Thou and thine usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights
Of this oppressed boy. This is thy eldest son’s son,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee.
Thy sins are visited in this poor child,
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.

King John

187

Bedlam, have done.

Constance

188 - 195

I have but this to say,
That he is not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagued for her,
And with her plague, her sin; his injury
Her injury, the beadle to her sin—
All punish’d in the person of this child,
And all for her. A plague upon her!

Queen Elinor

196 - 197

Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will that bars the title of thy son.

Constance

198 - 199

Ay, who doubts that? A will! A wicked will,
A woman’s will, a cank’red grandam’s will!

King Philip

200 - 205

Peace, lady, pause, or be more temperate.
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim
To these ill-tuned repetitions.
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers; let us hear them speak
Whose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.

Hubert de Burgh

206

Who is it that hath warn’d us to the walls?

King Philip

207

’Tis France, for England.

King John

208 - 209

England for itself.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects—

King Philip

210 - 211

You loving men of Angiers, Arthur’s subjects,
Our trumpet call’d you to this gentle parle—

King John

212 - 240

For our advantage—therefore hear us first:
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march’d to your endamagement.
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 threat’ned 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 labor’d spirits,
Forewearied in this action of swift speed,
Craves harborage within your city walls.

King Philip

241 - 272

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 offense seal’d up;
Our cannons’ malice vainly shall be spent
Against th’ 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 rounder of your old-fac’d walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English and their discipline
Were harbor’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?

Hubert de Burgh

273 - 274

In brief, we are the King of England’s subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

King John

275

Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.

Hubert de Burgh

276 - 278

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

279 - 281

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

282

Bastards, and else.

King John

283

To verify our title with their lives.

King Philip

284

As many and as well-born bloods as those—

Bastard

285

Some bastards too.

King Philip

286

Stand in his face to contradict his claim.

Hubert de Burgh

287 - 288

Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both.

King John

289 - 292

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

293

Amen, amen! Mount, chevaliers! To arms!

Bastard

294 - 300

Saint George, that swing’d the dragon, and e’er since
Sits on ’s horseback at mine hostess’ door,
Teach us some fence!
To Austria.
Sirrah, 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.

Duke of Austria

301

Peace, no more.

Bastard

302

O, tremble! For you hear the lion roar.

King John

303 - 304

Up higher to the plain, where we’ll set forth
In best appointment all our regiments.

Bastard

305

Speed then to take advantage of the field.

King Philip

306 - 307

It shall be so, and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand. God and our right!

French Herald

308 - 319

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur Duke of Britain in,
Who by the hand of France this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scattered on the bleeding ground.
Many a widow’s husband groveling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolored earth,
And victory with little loss doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Britain England’s King and yours.

English Herald

320 - 332

Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells,
King John, your King and England’s, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day.
Their armors, that march’d hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood.
There stuck no plume in any English crest
That is removed by a staff of France;
Our colors do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march’d forth;
And like a jolly troop of huntsmen come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dy’d in the dying slaughter of their foes.
Open your gates and give the victors way.

Hubert de Burgh

333 - 341

Heralds, from off our tow’rs we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies, whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured.
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer’d blows;
Strength match’d with strength, and power confronted power:
Both are alike, and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest. While they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither; yet for both.

King John

342 - 348

France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right roam on?
Whose passage, vex’d with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel and o’erswell
With course disturb’d even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean.

King Philip

349 - 357

England, thou hast not sav’d one drop of blood
In this hot trial more than we of France,
Rather lost more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms
We’ll put thee down, ’gainst whom these arms we bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead,
Gracing the scroll that tells of this war’s loss
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

Bastard

358 - 368

Ha, majesty! How high thy glory tow’rs
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel,
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs,
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
In undetermin’d differences of kings.
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry “havoc,” kings! Back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other’s peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death!

King John

369

Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?

King Philip

370

Speak, citizens, for England. Who’s your king?

Hubert de Burgh

371

The King of England, when we know the King.

King Philip

372

Know him in us, that here hold up his right.

King John

373 - 375

In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here,
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

Hubert de Burgh

376 - 380

A greater pow’r than we denies all this,
And till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr’d gates,
Kings of our fear, until our fears, resolv’d,
Be by some certain king purg’d and depos’d.

Bastard

381 - 404

By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings,
And stand securely on their battlements
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul’d by me:
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town.
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamors have brawl’d down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city.
I’d play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colors once again,
Turn face to face and bloody point to point;
Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion,
To whom in favor she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?

King John

405 - 408

Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well. France, shall we knit our pow’rs,
And lay this Angiers even with the ground,
Then after fight who shall be king of it?

Bastard

409 - 415

And if thou hast the mettle of a king,
Being wrong’d as we are by this peevish town,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,
As we will ours, against these saucy walls,
And when that we have dash’d them to the ground,
Why then defy each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.

King Philip

416

Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?

King John

417 - 418

We from the west will send destruction
Into this city’s bosom.

Duke of Austria

419

I from the north.

King Philip

420 - 421

Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

Bastard

422 - 424

Aside.
O prudent discipline! From north to south—
Austria and France shoot in each other’s mouth.
I’ll stir them to it.—Come, away, away!

Hubert de Burgh

425 - 430

Hear us, great kings! Vouchsafe awhile to stay,
And I shall show you peace and fair-fac’d league;
Win you this city without stroke or wound,
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field.
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.

King John

431

Speak on with favor, we are bent to hear.

Hubert de Burgh

432 - 464

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 lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete:
If not complete of, say he is not she,
And she again wants nothing, to name want,
If want it be not that she is not he.
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she,
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents when they join
Do glorify the banks that bound them in;
And two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can
To our fast-closed gates; for at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance; but without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so 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.

Bastard

465 - 477

Here’s a stay
That shakes the rotten carcass 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 cudgell’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.

Queen Elinor

478 - 489

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.

Hubert de Burgh

490 - 491

Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threat’ned town?

King Philip

492 - 493

Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: what say you?

King John

494 - 504

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, honors, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.

King Philip

505

What say’st thou, boy? Look in the lady’s face.

Lewis

506 - 513

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.

Bastard

514 - 519

Aside.
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 of Spain

520 - 530

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 eas’ly 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.

King John

531

What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

Blanch of Spain

532 - 533

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

King John

534

Speak then, Prince Dauphin, can you love this lady?

Lewis

535 - 536

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

King John

537 - 542

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.

King Philip

543

It likes us well, young princes; close your hands.

Duke of Austria

544 - 545

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

King Philip

546 - 553

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.

Lewis

554

She is sad and passionate at your Highness’ tent.

King Philip

555 - 560

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.

King John

561 - 571

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 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.

Bastard

572 - 609

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-fac’d gentleman, tickling commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world—
The world, who of itself is peized 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 honorable 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.

King JohnAct II, Scene 1

France. Before the town of Angiers.

King Philip

Arthur

King Philip

Duke of Austria

Constance

Duke of Austria

King Philip

Constance

King Philip

Chatillion

King Philip

Duke of Austria

King John

King Philip

King John

King Philip

King John

King Philip

Queen Elinor

Constance

Queen Elinor

Constance

Queen Elinor

Constance

Duke of Austria

Bastard

Duke of Austria

Bastard

Blanch of Spain

Bastard

Duke of Austria

King Philip

King John

Queen Elinor

Constance

Arthur

Queen Elinor

Constance

Queen Elinor

Constance

King John

Constance

Queen Elinor

Constance

King Philip

Hubert de Burgh

King Philip

King John

King Philip

King John

King Philip

Hubert de Burgh

King John

Hubert de Burgh

King John

Bastard

King John

King Philip

Bastard

King Philip

Hubert de Burgh

King John

King Philip

Bastard

Duke of Austria

Bastard

King John

Bastard

King Philip

French Herald

English Herald

Hubert de Burgh

King John

King Philip

Bastard

King John

King Philip

Hubert de Burgh

King John
Act II, Scene 1