Reference > William Shakespeare > The Oxford Shakespeare > The Life and Death of King John > Act V. Scene II.
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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare.  1914.

The Life and Death of King John

Act V. Scene II.


A Plain, near St. Edmundsbury. The French Camp.
 
  
Enter, in arms, LEWIS, SALISBURY, MELUN, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Soldiers.
 
  Lew.  My Lord Melun, let this be copied out, 
And keep it safe for our remembrance.   4
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,   8
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. 
  Sal.  Upon our sides it never shall be broken. 
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
A voluntary zeal, an unurg’d faith  12
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  16
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  20
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  24
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;  28
Wherein we step after a stranger march 
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up 
Her enemies’ ranks,—I must withdraw and weep 
Upon the spot of this enforced cause,—  32
To grace the gentry of a land remote, 
And follow unacquainted colours here? 
What, here? O nation! that thou couldst remove; 
That Neptune’s arms, who clippeth thee about,  36
Would bear thee from the knowledge of thyself, 
And gripple thee unto a pagan shore; 
Where these two Christian armies might combine 
The blood of malice in a vein of league,  40
And not to spend it so unneighbourly! 
  Lew.  A noble temper dost thou show in this; 
And great affections wrestling in thy bosom 
Do make an earthquake of nobility.  44
O! what a noble combat hast thou fought 
Between compulsion and a brave respect. 
Let me wipe off this honourable dew, 
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks:  48
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,  52
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,  56
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,  60
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossiping. 
Come, come; for thou shalt thrust thy hand as deep 
Into the purse of rich prosperity 
As Lewis himself: so, nobles, shall you all,  64
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 
  
Enter PANDULPH attended.
 
And even there, methinks, an angel spake: 
Look, where the holy legate comes apace,  68
To give us warrant from the hand of heaven, 
And on our actions set the name of right 
With holy breath. 
  Pand.        Hail, noble prince of France!  72
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.  76
Therefore thy threat’ning colours now wind up, 
And tame the savage spirit of wild war, 
That, like a lion foster’d up at hand, 
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,  80
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,  84
Or useful serving-man and instrument 
To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars 
Between this chastis’d kingdom and myself,  88
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,  92
Acquainted me with interest to this land, 
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my heart; 
And come you now to tell me John hath made 
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?  96
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, 
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; 
And, now it is half-conquer’d, must I back 
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome? 100
Am I Rome’s slave? What penny hath Rome borne, 
What men provided, what munition sent, 
To underprop this action? is’t not I 
That undergo this charge? who else but I, 104
And such as to my claim are liable, 
Sweat in this business and maintain this war? 
Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 
Vive le roy! as I have bank’d their towns? 108
Have I not here the best cards for the game 
To win this easy match play’d for a crown? 
And shall I now give o’er the yielded set? 
No, no, on my soul, it never shall be said. 112
  Pand.  You look but on the outside of this work. 
  Lew.  Outside or inside, I will not return 
Till my attempt so much be glorified 
As to my ample hope was promised 116
Before I drew this gallant head of war, 
And cull’d these fiery spirits from the world, 
To outlook conquest and to win renown 
Even in the jaws of danger and of death.  [Trumpet sounds. 120
What lusty trumpet thus doth summon us? 
  
Enter the BASTARD, attended.
 
  Bast.  According to the fair play of the world, 
Let me have audience; I am sent to speak: 124
My holy Lord of Milan, from the king 
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; 
And, as you answer, I do know the scope 
And warrant limited unto my tongue. 128
  Pand.  The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite, 
And will not temporize with my entreaties: 
He flatly says he’ll not lay down his arms. 
  Bast.  By all the blood that ever fury breath’d, 132
The youth says well. Now hear our English king; 
For thus his royalty doth speak in me. 
He is prepar’d; and reason too he should: 
This apish and unmannerly approach, 136
This harness’d masque and unadvised revel, 
This unhair’d sauciness and boyish troops, 
The king doth smile at; and is well prepar’d 
To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms, 140
From out the circle of his territories. 
That hand which had the strength, even at your door, 
To cudgel you and make you take the hatch; 
To dive, like buckets, in concealed wells; 144
To crouch in litter of your stable planks; 
To lie like pawns lock’d up in chests and trunks; 
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons; and to thrill and shake, 148
Even at the crying of your nation’s crow, 
Thinking this voice an armed Englishman: 
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here 
That in your chambers gave you chastisement? 152
No! Know, the gallant monarch is in arms, 
And like an eagle o’er his aiery towers, 
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest. 
And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts, 156
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
Of your dear mother England, blush for shame: 
For your own ladies and pale-visag’d maids 
Like Amazons come tripping after drums, 160
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change, 
Their neelds to lances, and their gentle hearts 
To fierce and bloody inclination. 
  Lew.  There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace; 164
We grant thou canst outscold us: fare thee well; 
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler. 
  Pand.        Give me leave to speak. 168
  Bast.  No, I will speak. 
  Lew.        We will attend to neither. 
Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest and our being here. 172
  Bast.  Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out; 
And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
And even at hand a drum is ready brac’d 176
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine; 
Sound but another, and another shall 
As loud as thine rattle the welkin’s ear 
And mock the deep-mouth’d thunder: for at hand,— 180
Not trusting to this halting legate here, 
Whom he hath us’d rather for sport than need,— 
Is warlike John; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb’d death, whose office is this day 184
To feast upon whole thousands of the French. 
  Lew.  Strike up our drums, to find this danger out. 
  Bast.  And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.  [Exeunt. 

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