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The King doth smile at; and is well prepar'd

To whip this dwarfish war, these pigmy arms,

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,

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

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?

No. Know the gallant monarch is in arms

And like an eagle o'er his aery tow'rs

To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.

And you degenerate, you ingrate revolts,

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,

Their thimbles into armed gauntlets change,

Their needles to lances, and their gentle hearts

To fierce and bloody inclination.

LEWIS.

There end thy brave, and turn thy face in peace;

We grant thou canst outscold us. Fare thee well;

We hold our time too precious to be spent

With such a brabbler.

PANDULPH.

Give me leave to speak.

BASTARD.

No, I will speak.

LEWIS.

We will attend to neither.

Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war,

Plead for our interest and our being here.

BASTARD.

Indeed, your drums, being beaten, will cry out;

And so shall you, being beaten. Do but start

And echo with the clamour of thy drum,

And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd

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-

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

To feast upon whole thousands of the French.

LEWIS.

Strike up our drums to find this danger out.

BASTARD.

And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do not doubt.

Exeunt

SCENE 3.

England. The field of battle

Alarums. Enter KING JOHN and HUBERT

KING JOHN.

How goes the day with us? O, tell me, Hubert.

HUBERT.

Badly, I fear. How fares your Majesty?

KING JOHN.

This fever that hath troubled me so long

Lies heavy on me. O, my heart is sick!

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER.

My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faulconbridge,

Desires your Majesty to leave the field

And send him word by me which way you go.

KING JOHN.

Tell him, toward Swinstead, to the abbey there.

MESSENGER.

Be of good comfort; for the great supply

That was expected by the Dauphin here

Are wreck'd three nights ago on Goodwin Sands;

This news was brought to Richard but even now.

The French fight coldly, and retire themselves.

KING JOHN.

Ay me, this tyrant fever burns me up

And will not let me welcome this good news.

Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight;

Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint.

Exeunt

SCENE 4.

England. Another part of the battlefield

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, and BIGOT

SALISBURY.

I did not think the King so stor'd with friends.

PEMBROKE.

Up once again; put spirit in the French;

If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

SALISBURY.

That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,

In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

PEMBROKE.

They say King John, sore sick, hath left the field.

Enter MELUN, wounded

MELUN.

Lead me to the revolts of England here.

SALISBURY.

When we were happy we had other names.

PEMBROKE.

It is the Count Melun.

SALISBURY.

Wounded to death.

MELUN.

Fly, noble English, you are bought and sold;

Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

And welcome home again discarded faith.

Seek out King John, and fall before his feet;

For if the French be lords of this loud day,

He means to recompense the pains you take

By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn,