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.
ELINOR. 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
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
Are
capable of this ambition,
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy
breathOf soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
CITIZEN. Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threat'ned town?
KING PHILIP. Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: what say you?
KING JOHN. If that the Dauphin there, thy
princely" target="_blank" title="a.王候般的;高贵的">
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 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
In titles, honours, and pro
motions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any
princess" target="_blank" title="n.公主;王妃;亲王夫人">
princess of the world.
KING PHILIP. What say'st thou, boy? Look in the lady's face.
LEWIS. 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 lov'd myself
Till now infixed I
beheld myself
Drawn in the
flattering" target="_blank" title="a.谄媚的;奉承的">
flattering table of her eye.
[Whispers with BLANCH]
BASTARD. [Aside] Drawn in the
flattering" target="_blank" title="a.谄媚的;奉承的">
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 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 eas'ly 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-
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge-
That I can find should merit any hate.
KING 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.
KING JOHN. Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?
LEWIS. Nay, ask me if I can
refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
KING 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 pleas'd withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
KING PHILIP. It likes us well; young
princes, close your hands.
AUSTRIA. And your lips too; for I am well assur'd
That I did so when I was first assur'd.
KING PHILIP. 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.
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.
LEWIS. She is sad and
passionate at your Highness' tent.
KING PHILIP. 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.
KING JOHN. We will heal up all,
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
speedymessenger 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.
Exeunt all but the BASTARD
BASTARD. Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur's tide in the whole,
Hath
willinglydeparted with a part;
And France, whose
armourconscience 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-fac'd 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 determin'd aid,
From a resolv'd 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. Exit
ACT III. SCENE 1.
France. The FRENCH KING'S camp
Enter CONSTANCE, ARTHUR, and SALISBURY
CONSTANCE. Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace!
False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be friends!
Shall Lewis have Blanch, and Blanch those provinces?
It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard;
Be well advis'd, 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.
SALISBURY. As true as I believe you think them false
That give you cause to prove my
saying true.
CONSTANCE. 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.
SALISBURY. What other harm have I, good lady, done
But spoke the harm that is by others done?
CONSTANCE. Which harm within itself so heinous is
As it makes
harmful all that speak of it.
ARTHUR. I do
beseech you, madam, be content.
CONSTANCE. If thou that bid'st me be content wert grim,
Ugly, and sland'rous 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
Become thy great birth, nor
deserve a crown.
But thou art fair, and at thy birth, dear boy,
Nature and Fortune join'd to make thee great:
Of Nature's gifts thou mayst with lilies boast,
And with the half-blown rose; but Fortune, O!
She is corrupted, chang'd, and won from thee;
Sh' adulterates hourly with thine uncle John,