Act II. Scene I. The Life and Death of King John. Craig, W.J., ed. 1914. The Oxford Shakespeare

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William Shakespeare (1564–1616). The Oxford Shakespeare. 1914.

The Life and Death of King John

Act II. Scene I.

France. Before the Walls of Angiers.

Enter, on one side, the DUKE OF AUSTRIA, and Forces; on the other, PHILIP, King of France, and Forces, LEWIS, CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and Attendants.
K. Phi. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,	4
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,	8
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf,
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John:	12
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. God shall forgive you Cœur-de-Lion’s death
The rather that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.	16
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
K. Phi. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?	20
Aust. 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,	24
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,	28
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,	32
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
Const. 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.	36
Aust. The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords
In such a just and charitable war.
K. Phi. Well then, to work: our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.	40
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,	44
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Const. Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis’d you stain your swords with blood.
My Lord Chatillon may from England bring	48
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.

Enter CHATILLON.	52
K. Phi. A wonder, lady! lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger, Chatillon, is arriv’d!
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillon, speak.	56
Chat. 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,	60
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.	64
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;	68
And all the unsettled humours of the land,
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies’ faces and fierce dragons’ spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,	72
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	76
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scathe in Christendom. [Drums heard within.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,	80
To parley or to fight; therefore prepare.
K. Phi. How much unlook’d for is this expedition!
Aust. By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence,	84
For courage mounteth with occasion:
Let them be welcome then, we are prepar’d.

Enter KING JOHN, ELINOR, BLANCH, the BASTARD, Lords, and Forces.
K. John. Peace be to France, if France in peace permit	88
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.	92
K. Phi. 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 armour here we sweat:	96
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,	100
Out-faced 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;	104
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,	108
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,	112
Which owe the crown that thou o’ermasterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
K. Phi. From that supernal judge, that stirs good thoughts	116
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,	120
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.
K. John. Alack! thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phi. Excuse; it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?	124
Const. Let me make answer; thy usurping son.
Eli. Out, insolent! thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!
Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true	128
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.	132
My boy a bastard! By my soul I think
His father never was so true begot:
It cannot be an if thou wert his mother.
Eli. There’s a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.	136
Const. There’s a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.
Aust. Peace!
Bast. Hear the crier.
Aust. What the devil art thou?	140
Bast. One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An a’ may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard.	144
I’ll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right.
Sirrah, look to’t; i’ faith, I will, i’ faith.
Blanch. O! well did he become that lion’s robe,
That did disrobe the lion of that robe.	148
Bast. 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.	152
Aust. What cracker is this same that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
King,—Lewis, determine what we shall do straight.
K. Phil. Women and fools, break off your conference.	156
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?	160
K. John. My life as soon: I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Britaine, 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.	164
Submit thee, boy.
Eli. Come to thy grandam, child.
Const. Do, child, go to it grandam, child;
Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will	168
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig:
There’s a good grandam.
Arth. Good my mother, peace!
I would that I were low laid in my grave:	172
I am not worth this coil that’s made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
Const. Now shame upon you, whe’r she does or no!
His grandam’s wrongs, and not his mother’s shames,	176
Draw 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.	180
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!
Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth!
Call not me slanderer; thou and thine usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights	184
Of this oppressed boy: this is thy eld’st 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,	188
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
K. John. Bedlam, have done.
Const. I have but this to say,	192
That he’s not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagu’d for her,
And with her plague, her sin; his injury	196
Her injury, the beadle to her sin,
All punish’d in the person of this child,
And all for her. A plague upon her!
Eli. Thou unadvised scold, I can produce	200
A will that bars the title of thy son.
Const. Ay, who doubts that? a will! a wicked will;
A woman’s will; a canker’d grandam’s will!
K. Phi. Peace, lady! pause, or be more temperate:	204
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	208
Whose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.

Trumpet sounds. Enter Citizens upon the Walls.
First Cit. Who is it that hath warn’d us to the walls?
K. Phi. ’Tis France, for England.	212
K. John. England for itself.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects,—
K. Phi. You loving men of Angiers, Arthur’s subjects,
Our trumpet call’d you to this gentle parle,—	216
K. John. 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:	220
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	224
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 do girdle you about,	228
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.	232
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 threaten’d cheeks,—	236
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,	240
To make a faithless error in your ears:
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king, whose labour’d spirits,
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,	244
Crave harbourage within your city walls.
K. Phi. When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo! in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow’d upon the right	248
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	252
In war-like 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,	256
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,	260
Save in aspect, have all offence seal’d up;
Our cannons’ malice vainly shall be spent
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex’d retire,	264
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.	268
But if you fondly pass our proffer’d offer,
’Tis not the roundure of your old-fac’d walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English and their discipline	272
Were harbour’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	276
And stalk in blood to our possession?
First Cit. In brief, we are the King of England’s subjects:
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
K. John. Acknowledge then the king, and let me in.	280
First Cit. 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.
K. John. Doth not the crown of England prove the king?	284
And if not that, I bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s breed,—
Bast. Bastards, and else.
K. John. To verify our title with their lives.	288
K. Phi. As many and as well-born bloods as those,—
Bast. Some bastards too.
K. Phi. Stand in his face to contradict his claim.
First Cit. Till thou compound whose right is worthiest,	292
We for the worthiest hold the right from both.
K. John. Then God forgive the sins of all those souls
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,	296
In dreadful trial of our kingdom’s king!
K. Phi. Amen, Amen! Mount, chevaliers! to arms!
Bast. Saint George, that swing’d the dragon, and e’er since
Sits on his horse back at mine hostess’ door,	300
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.	304
Aust. Peace! no more.
Bast. O! tremble, for you hear the lion roar.
K. John. Up higher to the plain; where we’ll set forth
In best appointment all our regiments.	308
Bast. Speed then, to take advantage of the field.
K. Phi. It shall be so; [To LEWIS.] and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand. God, and our right! [Exeunt.

Alarums and excursions; then a retreat. Enter a French Herald, with trumpets, to the gates.	312
F. Her. You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, Duke of Britaine, in,
Who, by the hand of France this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,	316
Whose sons lie scatter’d on the bleeding ground;
Many a widow’s husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour’d earth;
And victory, with little loss, doth play	320
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display’d,
To enter conquerors and to proclaim
Arthur of Britaine England’s king and yours.	324

Enter English Herald, with trumpets.
E. Her. Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells;
King John, your king and England’s, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day.	328
Their armours, 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;	332
Our colours 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	336
Dy’d in the dying slaughter of their foes.
Open your gates and give the victors way.
First Cit. Heralds, from off our towers we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire	340
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:	344
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.

Re-enter the two KINGS, with their powers, severally.	348
K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on?
Whose passage, vex’d with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel and o’erswell	352
With course disturb’d even thy confining shores
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean.
K. Phi. England, thou hast not sav’d one drop of blood,	356
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,	360
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.	364
Bast. Ha, majesty! how high thy glory towers
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;	368
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,	372
You equal-potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other’s peace; till then, blows, blood, and death!
K. John. Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?	376
K. Phi. Speak, citizens, for England; who’s your king?
First Cit. The King of England, when we know the king.
K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
K. John. In us, that are our own great deputy,	380
And bear possession of our person here,
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.
First Cit. A greater power than we denies all this;
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock	384
Our former scruple in our strong-barr’d gates,
Kings of ourselves; until our fears, resolv’d,
Be by some certain king purg’d and depos’d.
Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings,	388
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:	392
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	396
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl’d down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I’d play incessantly upon these jades,	400
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again;	404
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 favour she shall give the day,	408
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?
K. John. Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,	412
I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers
And lay this Angiers even with the ground;
Then after fight who shall be king of it?
Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king,	416
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,	420
Why then defy each other, and, pell-mell,
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.
K. Phi. Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?
K. John. We from the west will send destruction	424
Into this city’s bosom.
Aust. I from the north.
K. Phi. Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.	428
Bast. 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!
First Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe a while to stay,	432
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.	436
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.
K. John. Speak on with favour: we are bent to hear.
First Cit. That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanch,
Is near to England: look upon the years	440
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,	444
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,	448
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:	452
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such a she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.	456
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,	460
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,	464
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	468
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,	472
That shakes the rotten carcase 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	476
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;	480
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.	484
Eli. [Aside to KING JOHN.] 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,	488
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	492
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.	496
First Cit. Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten’d town?
K. Phi. Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: what say you?	500
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,	504
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	508
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
K. Phi. What sayst thou, boy? look in the lady’s face.	512
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	516
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. [Whispers with BLANCH.	520
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,	524
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,	528
That anything 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.	532
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,	536
That I can find should merit any hate.
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.	540
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,	544
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,	548
Command thy son and daughter to join hands
K. Phi. It likes us well. Young princes, close your hands.
Aust. And your lips too; for I am well assur’d
That I did so when I was first assur’d.	552
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 solemniz’d.	556
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.	560
Lew. She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent.
K. Phi. And, by my faith, this league that we have made
Will give her sadness very little cure.
Brother of England, how may we content	564
This widow lady? In her right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turn’d another way,
To our own vantage.
K. John. We will heal up all;	568
For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Britaine
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance:
Some speedy messenger bid her repair	572
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.	576
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook’d-for unprepared pomp. [Exeunt all except the BASTARD. The Citizens retire from the walls.
Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,	580
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	584
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,	588
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;	592
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,	596
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,	600
Clapp’d on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin’d aid,
From a resolv’d and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.	604
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;	608
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;	612
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! [Exit.	616

CONTENTS · BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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