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,

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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 fulness of perfection lies in him.

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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.

Bast.

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.

Eli. 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 unsured assurance to the crown,

That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe

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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.

First Cit. Why answer not the double majesties

This friendly treaty of our threaten'd town?

480

K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first

To speak unto this city: what say you?

K John. 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 sca,
Except this city now by us besieged,
Find liable to our crown and dignity,

Shall gild her bridal bed and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,

As she in beauty, education, blood,

Holds hand with any princess of the world.

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K. Phi. What say'st thou, boy? look in the lady's face. Lew. 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 loved myself
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.

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[Whispers with Blanch, Bast. 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. 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 easily 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,

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Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge, That I can find should merit any hate.

520

K. John. What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still to do

What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.

K. John. Speak then, prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?

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

K. John. 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 pleased withal, Command thy son and daughter to join hands.

530

K. Phi. It likes us well; young princes, close your hands. Aust. And your lips too; for I am well assured

That I did so when I was first assured.

K. Phi. 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 solemnized.
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.

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Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness' tent.
K. Phil. 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.

We will heal up all;

K. John.
For we'll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne
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.

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[Exeunt all but the Bastard.

Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part,

And France, whose armour 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-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,

The world, who of itself is peised 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 determined aid,
From a resolved and honourable 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.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The French KING'S pavilion.

Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY.

Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear a peace! False blood to false blood join'd! gone to be friends!

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580

590

[Erit.

Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces?

It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again:
It cannot be; thou dost but say 'tis so:
I trust I may not trust thee; for thy word
Is but the vain breath of a common man:
Believe me, I do not believe thee, man;
I have a king's oath to the contrary.

Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me,
For I am sick and capable of fears,

Oppress'd with wrongs and therefore full of fears,
A widow, husbandless, subject to fears,

A woman, naturally born to fears;

And though thou now confess thou didst but jest,
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce,
But they will quake and tremble all this day.
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head?
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son?
What means that hand upon that breast of thine?
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum?
Like a proud river peering o'er his bounds?
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words?
Then speak again; not all thy former tale,
But this one word, whether thy tale be true.

Sal. As true as I believe you think them false
That give you cause to prove my saying true.

Const. O, if thou teach me to believe this sorrow,
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die,
And let belief and life encounter so

As doth the fury of two desperate men
Which in the very meeting fall and die.

Lewis marry Blanch! O boy, then where art thou?

France friend with England, what becomes of me?
Fellow, be gone: I cannot brook thy sight:
This news hath made thee a most ugly man.

Sal. What other harm have I, good lady, done,
But spoke the harm that is by others done?

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Const. Which harm within itself so heinous is

As it makes harmful all that speak of it.

Arth. I do beseech you, madam, be content.

Const. If thou, that bid'st me be content, wert grim,
Ugly and slanderous to thy mother's womb,
Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,

Patch'd with foul moles and eye-offending marks,
I would not care, I then would be content,
For then I should not love thee, no, nor thou

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