Would not my lords return to me again
After they heard young Arthur was alive?
The legate of the Pope hath been with me,
And I have made a happy peace with him,
Dauphin, handing a paper to Melun
My Lord Melun, let this be copied out,
Hail, noble prince of France.
The next is this: King John hath reconciled
Himself to Rome;
The Dauphin is too willful-opposite
And will not temporize with my entreaties.
He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms.
Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of war
Plead for our interest and our being here.
It is too late. The life of all his blood
Is touched corruptibly, and his pure brain,
Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room.
It would not out at windows nor at doors.
O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye.
The tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt,
Here’s a good world! Knew you of this fair work?
Beyond the infinite and boundless reach
O Death, made proud with pure and princely beauty!
The Earth had not a hole to hide this deed.
Why seek’st thou to possess me with these fears?
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur’s death?
My lord, they say five moons were seen tonight—
Four fixèd, and the fifth did whirl about
The other four in wondrous motion.
King John, to Bastard
Now, what says the world
To your proceedings? Do not seek to stuff
My head with more ill news,
They burn in indignation. I repent.
There is no sure foundation set on blood,
The color of the King doth come and go
Between his purpose and his conscience,
Here once again we sit, once again crowned
And looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes.
How green you are and fresh in this old world!
John lays you plots. The times conspire with you,
There’s nothing in this world can make me joy.
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Bind up your hairs.
Yes, that I will. And wherefore will I do it?
Patience, good lady. Comfort, gentle Constance.
No, I defy all counsel,
Come hither, Hubert.
He takes Hubert aside.
O, my gentle Hubert,
King John, to Bastard
Cousin, away for England! Haste before,
And ere our coining see thou shake the bags
Of hoarding abbots;
The sun’s o’ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu.
Which is the side that I must go withal?
Good reverend father, make my person yours,
And tell me how you would bestow yourself.
Lady Constance, peace.
War, war, no peace! Peace is to me a war.
King Philip, to Blanche
’Tis true, fair daughter, and this blessèd day
Ever in France shall be kept festival.
If thou that bidd’st me be content wert grim,
Ugly, and sland’rous to thy mother’s womb,
Constance, to Salisbury
Gone to be married? Gone to swear a peace?
False blood to false blood joined?
Mad world, mad kings, mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part;
By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings,
And stand securely on their battlements
As in a theater,
France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right roam on,
You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany,
Who is it that hath warned us to the walls?
King John, this is the very sum of all:
England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
Peace be to France, if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own.
Then turn your forces from this paltry siege
And stir them up against a mightier task.
Austria, to Arthur
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,
Hast thou conspirèd with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honor?
Well, now can I make any Joan a lady.
“Good den, Sir Richard!” “God-a-mercy, fellow!”
An if his name be George,
What is thy name?
Philip, my liege, so is my name begun,
What follows if we disallow of this?
The proud control of fierce and bloody war,
Therefore, to be possessed with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refinèd gold,
Thou art not holy to belie me so.
I am not mad. This hair I tear is mine;
Why do you bend such solemn brows on me?
Think you I bear the shears of destiny?