Now powers from home1 and discontents at home2 Meet in one line; and vast Confusion waits, As doth a raven on a sick-fall'n beast, The imminent decay of 'rested Pomp. Now happy he whose cloak and cincture can Hold out this tempest. Bear away that child, And follow me with speed: I'll to the King: A thousand businesses are brief in hand,3
And Heaven itself doth frown upon the land. [exeunt.
SCENE I. A Palace in England.
Enter KING JOHN, PANDULPH, and Attendants.
K. JOHN. Thus have I yielded up into your hand The circle of my glory.
From this my hand, as holding of the Pope
Your sovereign greatness and authority.
K. JOHN. Now keep your holy word: go meet the
And from his Holiness use all your power
To stop their marches, 'fore we are inflam'd. Our discontented Counties do revolt; Our people quarrel with obedience, Swearing allegiance and the love of soul To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. This inundation of mistemper'd humour Rests by you only to be qualified:
Then pause not; for the present time's so sick That present medicine must be minister'd,
Or overthrow incurable ensues.
PAND. It was my breath that blew this tempest up Upon your stubborn usage of the Pope;
But, since you are a gentle convertite,
My tongue shall hush again this storm of war, And make fair weather in your blustering land.
On this Ascension-day, remember well, Upon your oath of service to the Pope,
Go I to make the French lay down their arms.
K. JOHN. Is this Ascension-day? Did not the Prophet
Say that before Ascension-day at noon
My crown I should give off? Even so I have:
I did suppose it should be on constraint;
But, Heaven be thank'd, it is but voluntary.
BAST. All Kent hath yielded; nothing there holds out 30 But Dover Castle: London hath receiv'd
Like a kind host the Dolphin and his powers: Your Nobles will not hear you, but are gone
To offer service to your enemy;
And wild Amazement hurries up and down The little number of your doubtful friends.
K. JOHN. Would not my Lords return to me again, After they heard young Arthur was alive?
BAST. They found him dead, and cast into the streets; An empty casket, where the jewel of life
By some damn'd hand was robb'd and ta'en away. K. JOHN. That villain Hubert told me he did live. BAST. So, on my soul, he did, for aught he knew. But wherefore do you droop? why look you sad? Be great in act as you have been in thought; Let not the world see Fear and sad Distrust Govern the motion of a kingly eye:
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; Threaten the threatener, and outface the brow Of bragging Horror: so shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviours from the great, Grow great by your example, and put on The dauntless spirit of Resolution.
Away, and glister like the God of War, When he intendeth to become1 the field: Shew boldness and aspiring confidence. What, shall they seek the lion in his den, And fright him there? and make him tremble there? O, let it not be said!
To meet Displeasure farther from the doors, And grapple with him ere he come so nigh.
K. JOHN. The Legate of the Pope hath been with me, And I have made a happy peace with him;
And he hath promis'd to dismiss the powers Led by the Dolphin.
Shall we upon the footing1 of our land Send fair-play offers, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce,
To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd' silken wanton, brave our fields, And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil, Mocking the Air with colours idly spread, And find no check? Let us, my Liege, to arms: Perchance the Cardinal cannot make your peace; Or, if he do, let it at least be said
They saw we had a purpose of defence.
K. JOHN. Have thou the ordering of this present time. BAST. Away, then, with good courage! yet I know Our party may well meet a prouder foe.
SCENE II. The DOLPHIN's Camp.
Enter the DOLPHIN and his Train, with SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Soldiers.
LEW. My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, And keep it safe for our remembrance : Return the precedent to these Lords again, That, having our fair order written down, Both they and we, perusing o'er these notes, May know wherefore we took the sacrament, And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. SAL. Upon our sides it never shall be broken. And, noble Dolphin, albeit we swear
A voluntary zeal and unurg'd faith
To your proceedings; yet, believe me, Prince, I am not glad that such a sore of time Should seek a plaster by contemn'd revolt,
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound By making many. O, it grieves my soul That I must draw this metal from my side To be a widow-maker! O, and there Where honourable Rescue and Defence Cries out upon the name of Salisbury! But such is the infection of the time That for the health and physic of our right We cannot deal but with the very hand Of stern Injustice and confused Wrong. And is 't not pity, O my grieved Friends, That we, the sons and children of this Isle, Were born to see so sad an hour as this; Wherein we step after a stranger, march Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up
Her enemies' ranks (I must withdraw and weep Upon the spot1 of this enforced cause)
To grace the gentry of a land remote,
And follow unacquainted colours here?
What, here? O Nation, that thou could'st remove! That Neptune's arms, who clippeth thee about, Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself,
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore;
Where these two Christian armies might combine The blood of malice in a vein of league, And not to-spend it so unneighbourly!
LEW. A noble temper dost thou shew in this; And great affections wrastling in thy bosom Doth make an earthquake of Nobility. O, what a noble combat hast thou fought Between compulsion and a brave respect!2 Let me wipe off this honourable dew, That silvery doth progress on thy cheeks: My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, Being an ordinary inundation;
But this effusion of such manly drops,
This shower blown up by tempest of the soul, Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd Than had I seen the vaulty top of Heaven Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors.
Lift up thy brow, renowned Salisbury,
And with a great heart heave away this storm: Commend these waters to those baby eyes That never saw the giant World enrag'd; Nor met with Fortune other than at feasts Full of warm blood, of mirth, of gossiping.
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 60 Into the purse of rich Prosperity
As Lewis himself: so, Nobles, shall you all, That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. And even there, methinks, an Angel spake : Look, where the holy Legate comes apace, To give us warrant from the hand of Heaven, And on our actions set the name of Right With holy breath.
Hail, noble Prince of France!
The next is this: King John hath reconcil'd Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy Church,
The great metropolis and see of Rome:
Therefore thy threatening colours now wind up;
And tame the savage spirit of wild War
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand,
And be no further harmful than in show.
LEW. Your Grace shall pardon me, I will not back:
I am too high-born to be propertied,'
To be a secondary at control
Or useful serving-man and instrument,
To any sovereign State throughout the World. Your breath first kindled the dead coal of war Between this chastis'd kingdom and myself, And brought in matter that should feed this fire; And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out With that same weak wind which enkindled it. You taught me how to know the face of Right, Acquainted me with interest to this land, Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart;
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