playonfestival.org€¦ · Web viewKing John First Reads Script. Introduction: Lue will welcome...

King John First Reads Script

Introduction:

Lue will welcome everyone to first reads and will give opening remarks.

Lue will introduce Taylor and Kelsey

(lue, video / audio offTaylor and kelsey, video / audio on)

Taylor: Thanks Lue! Kelsey and I will be running things behind the scenes today. For all you live-streamers we hope you'll participate in the live chat function on YouTube!

Kelsey: We will be keeping an eye on the chat and bringing your questions and comments into the discussion portions of today, so let us know what is coming up for you and what questions you may have and we will bring them into the live discussions with our artists.

Taylor: Thanks to the generosity of the Hitz Foundation, we are proud to provide an honorarium to everyone involved in first reads. If you would like to contribute to the well-being and payment of artists in these unprecedented times, we have a couple of suggestions for you:

Kelsey: The Dramatists Guild Foundation provides emergency financial assistance to individual playwrights, composers, lyricists, and bookwriters in dire need of funds due to severe hardship or unexpected illness. Their requests for grants has spiked due to covid-19. They depend heavily on contributions from individuals like you so they may continue to provide immediate relief to writers.

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Taylor: And The Actor's Fund. Since March 18, 2020, The Actors Fund has distributed emergency financial assistance to more than 2,800 people in our industry. This money is helping people cover basic living expenses, such as food, essential medications, utilities and more. To make donations, we are putting the links to these organizations in the description on YouTube and they can also be found at playonshakespeare.org/firstreads. Thanks everyone!

(Taylor and Kelsey audio / video off)

Lue will talk a bit more and then introduce director Rosa Joshi

(Lue – audio / video offRosa – audio video on)

Rosa Joshi gives remarks. Afterward, introduces playwright Brighde Mullins.

(Rosa – audio / video off (Brighde – audio video on)

Brighde gives remarks. Afterward, introduces Dramaturg Drew Barr.

(Brighde – audio / video off (Drew – audio video on)

Drew gives remarks. Afterward, gives it back to Lue.

(Drew – audio / video off (Lue – audio video on)

Lue may say more here, then will ask the readers to introduce themselves in the following order:

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Lue audio video off. Readers will take turns turning on their audio and video and introducing themselves. Once they ’ re done, they will stay on the screen until ALL introductions are complete.

Annie Paul – states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Betsy Schwartz – states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Brenda Joyner - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Brooke Parks - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Caro Zeller - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Catherine Castellanos - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Gina Daniels - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Kate Wisniewski - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Lisa Tejero - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

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Miriam Laube - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Nancy Rodriguez - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Vilma Silva - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. (don’t turn off video)

Caroline Shaffer - states name, pronouns if desired, location, and roles they are reading. Then she says:

CAROLINE: As the stringer, I will be jumping in and taking over for folks if they begin having connection issues with zoom, so you may see me pop in as any of the characters today. Everyone ready?

(readers reply and then turn off their video and audio. Caroline begins reading the stage directions on the following page)

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KING JOHN

Written byWilliam Shakespeare

In a modern verse translation Translation by Brighde Mullins

With dramaturgy by Katie A. Peterson and Drew Barr

FIRST READS DRAFT

May 1, 2019

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ACT 1, SCENE 1: King John’s Palace

Enter King John, Queen Eleanor, Pembroke, Essex, and Salisbury, with Chatillon, ambassador of France.

KING JOHNNow say, Chatillon, what would France with us?

CHATILLONI greet you and I speak as King of FranceIn my behavior to the majesty,The stolen majesty, of England here--

QUEEN ELEANORA strange beginning: “stolen majesty”!

KING JOHNSilence, good mother. Listen to him speak.

CHATILLONPhilip of France, in right and true behalfOf your late older brother Geoffrey's son,Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claimTo this fair island and its colonies,To Ireland, Poitiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,And orders you to lay aside your claim,Which holds unlawfully the deeds to these,And put the same into young Arthur's hands,Your nephew and right royal sovereign.

KING JOHNWhat happens if we disagree with this?

CHATILLONThe proud control of fierce and bloody war,To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld.

King John First Reads May 1, 2020

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KING JOHNWe’ll give you war for war and blood for blood,Controlment for control. Tell that to France.

CHATILLONThen take my king’s defiance from my mouth,The farthest limit of my embassy.

KING JOHNBring my defiance back and go in peace.Be quick as lightning in the eyes of France—Before you can report, I will be there;The thunder of my cannon shall be heard.Get out. You’ll be the trumpet of our wrathAnd sullen prophet of your own decay.Escort him safely to the border, please.Pembroke, look to it. Farewell, Chatillon.

Chatillon and Pembroke leave.

QUEEN ELEANOR (aside to King John)What now, my son! Have I not always saidHow that ambitious Constance would not stopTill she had fired up France and all the worldUpon the so-called birthright of her son?This might’ve been prevented and resolvedWith very easy arguments of love,Which now the people of two kingdoms mustArbitrate with fearful bloody conflict.

KING JOHN (aside to Queen Eleanor)Our strong possession and our right for us.


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QUEEN ELEANOR (aside to John)Your strong possession much more than your right,Or else it will go wrong for you and me—So much my conscience whispers in your ear,Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall hear.

Enter a Sheriff, who whispers into Essex’s ear.

ESSEXMy liege, here is the strangest controversyI have ever heard, come from the countryTo be judged by you. Shall I bring them in?

KING JOHNLet them approach.

Exit Sheriff.

(to his mother)Those fat cat priests and monks will bear the costOf our just war in France!

Enter Robert and the Bastard.

What men are you?

BASTARD (Philip Faulconbridge)Your faithful subject, I’m a gentleman,Born in Northamptonshire, the oldest son,So I’ve been told, to Robert Faulconbridge—A soldier, by the honor-giving handOf Coeur-de-Lion knighted in the field.

KING JOHN (to Robert Faulconbridge)And who are you?


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ROBERTThe son and heir to that same Faulconbridge.

KING JOHNYou are the older, but you are the heir?You had not the same mother then, it seems.

BASTARDMost certain the same mother, mighty King.That is well known—and, as I think, one father;But, for the certain knowledge of that truthYou need to talk to God—or else my mom.I have my doubts, as all men's children may.

QUEEN ELEANORYou watch your tongue, rude man! You shame your motherAnd wound her honor with your impudence!

BASTARDI, madam? No, I have no impudence.It is my brother's claim; it isn’t mine.If he can prove it, then he cheats me outOf at the least five hundred pounds a year.Heaven guard my mother’s honor and my land!

KING JOHN A good blunt fellow. Why, being younger born,Does he lay claim to your inheritance?

BASTARDOnce he has slandered me with bastardy,He’ll get my land with ease. I bet that’s why.Now, whether I’m as true conceived or not,That I still lay upon my mother’s head;But that I am as well conceived, my liege—God bless the bones that took the pains for me—Compare our faces and then judge yourself.


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If old Sir Robert did conceive us both,And were our father, and this son like him,Oh, old Sir Robert, on my knee, it’s true:I thank God I look not a thing like you!

KING JOHNWhy, what a joker heaven sent us here!

QUEEN ELEANOR (to John)He has the look of Coeur-de-Lion’s face;The accent of his tongue is like him too.Do you not read some features of my sonIn the great composition of this man?

KING JOHN (to Eleanor)My eyes have studied every inch of himAnd find him perfect Richard. (to Robert) Young man, speak,What moves you to come claim your brother's land?

BASTARDHe is a chinless wonder like his dad.With that half-face, he would have all my land;His half-face earns five hundred pounds a year!

ROBERTMy gracious liege, when he was still alive,Your brother did employ my father much—

BASTARDWell, sir, by this you cannot get my land:Your tale must be how he employed our mother.


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ROBERT—And once dispatched him as ambassadorTo Germany, there with the emperorTo treat of high affairs touching that time.The King took full advantage of his absenceAnd in the meantime stole my father’s place;Where how he did prevail, I’m shamed to speak.But, truth is truth: large lengths of seas and shoresLay between my father and my motherWhen this same lusty gentleman was got.Upon my father’s deathbed, he bequeathedHis lands to me, and took it on his deathThat this my mother's son was none of his;For, if he were, he came into the worldFull fourteen weeks before he was expected.So let me have what’s mine by right, good King:My father's land, as was my father's will.

KING JOHNRobert, your brother is legitimate.Your parents were already legally wedAnd, if she did play false, the fault was hers,Which fault lies on the hazards of all husbandsThat marry wives. Tell me, what if my brother,Who as you say took pains to have this son,Had from your father claimed this son as his?By law, good friend, your father might have keptThis calf, bred from his cow, from all the world.The law says, even if he were my brother's,My brother might not claim him; nor, your father,Though unrelated, refuse him. In brief:My mother’s son did get your father’s heir;Your father's heir will get your father's land.

ROBERTThen shall my father's will be of no forceTo dispossess this child which is not his?


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BASTARDOf no more force to dispossess me, sir,Than was his will to get me, as I think.

QUEEN ELEANORWhat would you rather be: a FaulconbridgeAnd like your brother to enjoy some land,Or, the reputed son of Coeur-de-Lion,Lord of your presence, and no land beside?

BASTARDMadam, let’s say my brother had my shapeAnd I was stuck like him with dad’s physique;Say both my legs were spindly pogo sticks,My arms such eel-skins stuffed, my face so thinThat in my ear I dare not stick a twigLest I look like a scarecrow in the field;If it took that to inherit all his land,May lightning strike me dead upon this place,I’d give up all that land to have my face.I’d not be “Pencil Dick” in any case.

QUEEN ELEANORI like you well. Will you forsake your fortune,Give up your land to him and follow me?I am a soldier and now bound for France.

BASTARDBrother, you take my land. I'll take my chance.Your face receives five hundred pounds a year;It’s worth more like five farthings, though, I fear.Madam, I'll follow you unto my death.

QUEEN ELEANOROh no, I’m in no hurry, you go first.

BASTARDBut, Madam, I am just a country bumpkin—


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KING JOHNWhat’s your name?

BASTARDPhilip, my King, so is my name begun,Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's first son.

KING JOHNLet’s name you after him you look most like—Kneel down as Philip, but rise up more great,Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Philip kneels. King John dubs him a knight, tapping him on the shoulder with his sword.

BASTARD (rising, to Robert)Brother by our mother, give me your hand:My father gave me honor, yours gave land.Now blessèd be the hour, by night or day,When I was got, Sir Robert was away!

QUEEN ELEANORThe very spirit of Plantagenet!I am your grandam, Richard; call me so.

BASTARDGrandma! If it is true or not, who cares?What’s that they say: "a little from the right,Sneak in the window, if you can’t lift the latch;Who dares not woo by day must screw by night,And have is have, however men do catch”.Near or far off, well shot is well received,And I am I, no matter how conceived.


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KING JOHN (to Robert)Go, Faulconbridge, now you’ve got your desire;A landless knight makes you a landed squire.Come, mother, and come, Richard, we must speedFor France, for France, for it is more than need.

BASTARDBrother, adieu; good fortune and good luck,For you’re the product of an honest fuck.

Exeunt all but Bastard.

I think that I have grown a full foot taller;I gained in honor what I lost in land.Now, I can make any girl a lady.“Good day, sir Richard!” “How’s it hanging, pal?”And if his name be George, I'll call him Hal;For nouveau riche don’t bother learning names;It’s too demeaning and it’s too much workFor my new status. Now, wherever I dine,I’ll pick my teeth and loudly slurp my soup;And when my knightly stomach is sufficed,I’ll proudly burp while I interrogateSome foreign dignitary: “My dear sir,”Thus leaning on my elbow I’ll begin,“I wonder what you’ve heard them say of me?”—that is the question now, since I’m in charge!And then his answer all pro forma goes:“You know, my dear sir, I’m at your command,At your employment, at your service, sir;”“No, sir,” I counter, “I, sweet sir, at yours;”And so, we’ll talk in circles through the nightAnd cut each other off being polite,Bragging about the mountains we have seen,Our foreign travels on some swanky cruise,We’ll draw toward sunrise in conclusion so.But look, man, this is how the other half lives


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And fits the mounting spirit like myself.For, he is but a bastard to the timeThat does not smack of such civilityAnd, so I am, whether I smack or not;And, not just in my clothing and my bling,Exterior form, outward accoutrement,But, from an inward motion, I’ll deliverSweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age’s tooth.For, though I will not practice to deceive,Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn;And that shall pave the way for my new self.

Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.

But who comes in such haste in riding clothes?What woman post is this? Has she no husbandThat will prepare her entrance and her way?Dear God, it is my mother. How now, mom?What brings you out in public dressed like that?

LADY FAULCONBRIDGEWhere is that wretch your brother? Where is heMaligns my honor up and down the street!

BASTARDMy brother Robert? He who looks like dad?Nimrod the Giant, your husband Robert’s son?Is it Sir Robert’s son you’re looking for?

LADY FAULCONBRIDGE‘Sir Robert’s son?’ Yes, you irreverent boy,Sir Robert’s son! Why do you scorn Sir Robert?He is Sir Robert’s son, and so are you!

BASTARDJames Gurney, could you give us leave a while?


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GURNEYGood leave, good Phillip.

BASTARDPhillip? Who is he?You’re so behind the times, old family friend.I’ll fill you in once I have talked with mom.

Exit Gurney.

Mother, I am not old Sir Robert's son;Sir Robert might have ate his part of meAnd still not broken his Good Friday fast.Sir Robert would be lucky—face the facts—To get to say that he resembled me;We’ve seen his handiwork. Therefore, good mother,To whom am I beholden for these limbs?You obviously slept with someone else.

LADY FAULCONBRIDGEHave you conspired with your brother too?You should defend my honor for your sake.Why do you scorn me, you ungrateful knave?

BASTARD‘Knight, knight,’ good mother, shining-armor-like.Look! I am “dubbed”—I have it on my shoulder.See, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son;I have disclaimed Sir Robert and my land;Legitimation, name, and all are gone.Mother, please, tell me who my father was—Some proper man, I hope. Who was it, mom?

LADY FAULCONBRIDGEHave you denied yourself a Faulconbridge?

BASTARDAs faithfully as I deny the devil.


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LADY FAULCONBRIDGEKing Richard Coeur-de-Lion was your father.By long and vehement suit, I was seducedTo make room for him in my husband's bed.Heaven don’t blame my child for my trespass!You are the issue of my dear offense,Which was so strongly forced past my defense.

BASTARDNow, by this light, were I begot again,Madam, I would not wish a better father.Some sins bear out their privileges on Earth,Though not in Heaven. Your fault was not your folly.You had to place your heart at the disposeOf him against whose fury and brute forceThe awesome lion could not win the fight.Whoever dares to say you did not wellWhen I was got, I'll send his soul to hell.Come, lady, I will show you to my kin;And they shall say, when Richard me begot,If you had just said no, it had been sin.Who says it was, he lies. For, it was not.

They exit.


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ACT II SCENE 1: France. Before Angiers

Flourish. Enter before Angiers, a town in France, King Philip of France, Lewis the Dauphin, Constance, Arthur, and their forces on one side; Duke of Austria, wearing a lion’s skin, and his forces on the other.

KING PHILIPBefore Angiers well met, brave Austria.Arthur, that great forerunner of your blood—Richard, who robbed the lion of his heart—By this brave duke came early to his grave.And, in apology to Richard’s kin,At our importance Austria has comeTo pledge allegiance, child, on your behalfAnd to prevent the hostile takeoverBy your unnatural uncle, English John.Embrace him, love him, give him welcome here.

ARTHUR (to Austria)God will forgive you Coeur-de-Lion’s deathBecause you choose to give his children life,Sheltering their right under your wings of war.I give you welcome with a powerless hand,But with a heart full of unstainèd love.Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.

KING PHILLIPA noble boy. Who would not treat you well?

AUSTRIA (to Arthur)I lay this zealous kiss upon your cheekA seal to prove the contract of my love:That to my home no more will I returnTill Angiers and the right you have in France


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Is safe from any foreign influence,Even till England, utmost corner of the west,Salutes you for her king. Till then, fair boy,I will not think of home, I’ll think of war.

CONSTANCEOh, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s thanks,Till your strong hand shall help to give him strengthTo make a more requital to your love.

AUSTRIAThe peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swordsIn such a just and charitable war.

KING PHILIPLet’s get to work. Our cannon shall be aimedAgainst the brows of this resisting town.We’ll lay our royal bones before Angiers,With Frenchmen’s blood we’ll flood the marketplace,But we will make it subject to this boy.

CONSTANCEWait for an answer from your messenger,Lest ignorant you stain your swords with blood.My lord Chatillon may bring from EnglandThat right in peace which here we urge in war,And then we should repent each drop of bloodThat hot rash haste so indirectly shed.

Enter Chatillon.

KING PHILIPA wonder, lady! Look, upon your wish,Our messenger, Chatillon, is arrived.What England says say briefly, gentle lord;We calmly wait for you; Chatillon, speak.

CHATILLON


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England, impatient with your just demands,Has armed himself. The adverse windsWhose leisure I have stayed, have given him timeTo land his legions all as soon as I.He’s right around the corner from this town,His forces strong, his soldiers confident.With him the Mother Queen is brought along,Like Ate, ancient goddess of all strife;With her her niece, the Lady Blanche of Spain;With them a bastard of the Lion KingAnd all the angry jobless of the land—Rash, inconsiderate, fiery young recruitsWho gambled everything to come to war,Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backsTo take a risk and find their fortunes here.

Drum beats.

The interruption of their churlish drumsCuts short my repartee. See, here they come.

KING PHILIPHow much unlooked-for is this expedition.

AUSTRIAUnlooked for, unexpected—by as muchWe must awake endeavor for defense,For courage rises with occasion.Let them be welcome, then. We are prepared.

Enter King John, Bastard, Queen Eleanor, Blanche, the Earl of Pembroke, Salisbury and the English forces.


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KING JOHNPeace be to France, if France, in peace, permitOur possession of what belongs to us.If not, we will bleed France and peace will fly;While we, God’s wrathful agent, castigateThe lot of those who beat his peace to heaven.

KING PHILIPPeace be to England, if you take war backFrom France to England and stay there in peace.England we love, and, for that England’s sake,With burden of our armor here we sweat.This job we’re doing should be done by you,But you’re so far away from loving EnglandThat you have undermined its lawful king,Cut off the sequence of the family line,Intimidated and committed rapeUpon the maiden virtue of the crown.Look here upon your brother Geoffrey’s face.He points to Arthur.These eyes, these brows, were molded out of his;This little abstract replicates that largeWhich died with Geoffrey, and the hand of timeWill draw this brief into as huge a volume.That Geoffrey was your older brother born,And this his son; England was Geoffrey’s rightAnd this is Geoffrey’s. In the name of GodHow comes it then that you are called a king,When living blood does in these temples beatWhich own the crown that you have dared to steal?

KING JOHNWho gives you jurisdiction in this caseTo make me answer your unfounded claims?


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KING PHILIPGod, the heavenly judge that stirs good thoughtsIn any breast of strong authorityTo look into the blots and stains of right.That judge has made me guardian to this boy,And under his warrant I impeach your wrong,And with his help I mean to punish you.

KING JOHNBeware; you do usurp authority.

KING PHILIPI must do so to beat usurping down.

QUEEN ELEANORWho is it that you call usurper, France?

CONSTANCELet me make answer. (to Eleanor) Your usurping son.

QUEEN ELEANOROut, insolent! Your bastard shall be kingThat you may be a queen and check the world.

CONSTANCEMy bed was ever to your son as trueAs yours was to your husband; and this boyLiker in feature to his father, Geoffrey,Than you to John, whose manners are like yours—Like rain to water, devil to his dam.My boy, a bastard? By my soul, I thinkHis father wasn’t as so true conceived;He simply couldn’t be, since you’re his mom.

QUEEN ELEANORThere’s a good mother, boy, that blots your father.


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CONSTANCEThere’s a good grandma, boy, that would blot you.

AUSTRIAPeace!

BASTARDHear the crier!

AUSTRIAWho the hell are you?

BASTARDOne that will play the devil, sir, with you,Who’ll snatch that lion’s skin when you’re alone.You’re like the bunny, as the saying goes,Who bravely plucks dead lions by the beard.I’ll burn your skin-coat, if I catch you right.Watch out! I’m coming for you! Here I come!

BLANCHEWho wore it best? Richard the lion-hearted,Who first disrobed that lion. Not this fool.

BASTARDIt looks as stupid on the back of himAs Hercules’s shoes upon an ass.But, ass, I’ll take that burden from your back,And lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.

AUSTRIAWhat cracker is this same who deafs our earsWith such abundance of superfluous breath?Quickly, King Philip, tell us what to do.


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KING PHILIPWomen and fools, break off your conference.King John, perhaps I’ll spell it out for you:England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,In right of Arthur I do claim from you.Will you forfeit them and lay down your arms?

KING JOHNMy life as soon! I do defy you, France.Arthur of Brittany, yield up to my hand,And out of my dear love I’ll give you moreThan e’er the coward hand of France can win.Submit then, boy.

QUEEN ELEANOR (to Arthur)Come to your grandma, child.

CONSTANCEYes, child, surrender to your grandmother.Give grandma your whole kingdom. Grandma willGive you a plum, a cherry, and a fig.There’s a good grandma.

ARTHURGood my mother, peace.I wish that I were laid low in my grave.I am not worth this trouble made for me.

QUEEN ELEANORHis mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps!


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CONSTANCEShame upon you whether I do or not!His grandma’s wrongs and not his mother’s shamesDraw tears from his eyes like heaven-moving pearls,Which heaven shall take as if they were a fee.Yes, with these crystal beads heaven is bribedTo do him justice and revenge on you.

QUEEN ELEANORYou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!

CONSTANCEYou monstrous “injurer” of heaven and earth,Don’t call me “slanderer” when you usurpThe territories, royalties, and rightsOf this oppressed boy, your oldest grandson,Unfortunate in nothing but in you.Your sins are visited on this poor child.He will live out the letter of God’s law,Being but the second generationSep’rated from your sin-conceiving womb.

KING JOHNCrazy! Stop this.

CONSTANCEI’ve just got this to say:That he’s not only damnèd for her sin,But, God has made her sin, and her, the plagueOn this unlucky offspring: plagued for herAnd by her plagued; her sin his injury,Her injury the payment for her sin,All punished in the person of this child,And all because of her. A plague on her!


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QUEEN ELEANORYou ignorant bitch, I can at once produceA will that voids the title of your son.

CONSTANCEOh, who doubts that? A will? A wicked will,A woman’s will, a crooked grandma’s will!

KING PHILLIPPeace, lady; pause, or be more temperate;It does not suit us to play umpire forYou harpies screeching repetitions.Hey, trumpet player, summon to the wallsThese men of Angiers. Let us hear them speakWhose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.

Trumpet sounds.

Enter A Citizen of Angiers upon the walls.

CITIZEN ONEWho is it that has called us to our walls?

KING PHILIPIt’s France, for England.

KING JOHNEngland, for itself.You men of Angiers and my loving subjects—

KING PHILIPYou loving men of Angiers, Arthur’s subjects,Our trumpet called—let’s have a little talk—


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KING JOHNFor our advantage. Therefore, hear us first.These flags of France that are advancèd hereBefore the eye and prospect of your townHave made this march for your endangerment.Their cannons have their bowels full of wrathAnd they are ready mounted to spit forthTheir iron indignation against your walls.But on the sight of us, your lawful king,The French, amazèd, want a “little talk”;And now, instead of bullets wrapped in fire,They shoot words, like blanks, that go up in smokeTo blow a faithless promise in your ears,Which, you must disbelieve, kind citizens,And let us in. I am your king. My spiritsExhausted in this action of swift speed,Requests safe harbor in your city’s walls.

KING PHILIPWhen I have said, make answer to us both.

Philip takes Arthur by the hand.

Look! In this right hand, whose protectionIs most divinely vowed upon the rightOf him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,Son to the older brother of this manAnd king over him and all that he enjoys.For Arthur’s stolen and downtrodden rights,We march in armed battalion against your town;We are no further enemy to you.So, pay that duty which you truly oweTo him that owns it, namely, this young prince;And then our guns are like a muzzled bear,They might look scary but they don’t cause harm.Our cannons’ malice vainly shall be spent,Against th’ invulnerable clouds of heaven


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And with a blessèd and un-vexed retreat,With un-hacked swords and helmets all unbruised,We will bear home that lusty blood againWhich we were set to spill upon your townAnd leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.But listen up: if you refuse this deal,Not even the circumference of your wallsWill save you from our messengers of war.Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord?That’s what we ask, desire and demand.This is the turning point: should we fire firstAnd spill your blood to get what’s really ours?

CITIZEN ONEIn brief: we are the King of England’s subjects.For him, and in his right, we hold this town.

KING JOHNAcknowledge me your king, and let me in.

CITIZEN ONEThat we cannot. But he that proves the king,To him we will prove loyal. Till that timeHave we rammed up our gates against the world.

KING JOHNDoes not the crown of England prove the king?And if not that, I bring you witnesses:Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s breed—

BASTARD (aside)Bastards included!

KING JOHNTo verify my title with their lives.


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KING PHILIPWe have an equal number for the French—

BASTARD (aside)Some bastards, too, no doubt.

KING PHILIPStand in his face to contradict his claim.

CITIZEN ONETill you can prove whose right is worthiest,We will withhold our town from either side.

KING JOHNThen God forgive the sins of all those soulsThat to their everlasting residence,Before the dew of evening fall, will rushIn dreadful trial of our kingdom’s king.

KING PHILIPAmen, amen. Get on your horses, knights!

BASTARDSaint George that thrashed the dragon, and ever sinceSits on his horseback on my tavern’s door,Teach us to fight! (To Austria) Mister, if I were nowAt your place, mister, with your lioness,I’d put the cuckold’s horns upon your headAnd make a monster of you.

AUSTRIAPeace! No more.

BASTARDOh tremble, for you hear the lion roar.


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KING JOHNOn top of yonder hill, we’ll set up campAnd organize our eager regiments.

BASTARDSpeed, then, to take advantage of the field.

KING PHILIPIt shall be so; and at the other hillCommand the rest to stand. God and our right!

They exit. The Citizen remains.

Here, after excursions, enter the French Herald with trumpeters, to the gates.

FRENCH HERALDYou men of Angiers, open wide your gates,And let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany, in,Who, by the hand of France, this day has madeMuch work for tears in many an English mother,Whose bleeding sons lie scattered on the ground;Many a widow’s husband lies face-downColdly embracing the discolored earth;And victory at little cost does playUpon the dancing banners of the French,Who are at hand, triumphantly displayed,To enter conquerors, and to proclaimArthur of Brittany England’s king and yours.

Enter English Herald with trumpet.

ENGLISH HERALDRejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells!King John, your king and England’s, now approaches,Commander of this hot malicious day.His armors, that marched here so silver bright,Are coming back crusted with Frenchmen’s blood.


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There stuck no plume in any English crestThat is removèd by a sword of France;Our colors do return in our own hands,That did display them first when we first marched,And like a jolly troop of huntsmen comeOur hearty English, with their blood-stained hands,Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes.Open your gates and let the winners in.

CITIZEN ONEHeralds, from our towers we saw every moveFrom first to last, the scrimmage and retreatOf both your armies, and who is winningBy our keen eyes cannot be determined.Blood has brought blood, and blows have answered blows,Strength matched with strength, and power confronted power.Both are alike, and both alike we like.One must prove greatest. While you weigh so even,We hold our town for neither, yet for both.

Enter on one side King John, Queen Eleanor, Blanche, the Bastard, the Earl of Salisbury and English forces; on the other side, King Philip, Lewis the Dauphin, Austria, and French forces.

KING JOHNFrance, have you e’en more blood to cast away?Say, should the current of our right roam on,Whose passage, vexed with your impediment,Will leave its native channel, flood its banks,Overflowing even your walled borders,Unless you let his silver water keepA peaceful progress to the ocean?


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KING PHILIPEngland, you have not saved one drop of bloodIn this hot trial more than we of France,Rather lost more. And I swear by this handThat sways the earth this climate overlooks,Before we will lay down our just-borne armsWe’ll put you down, against our enemies,Or add a royal number to the dead,Telling the noble story of this war’s lossWith slaughter coupled to the name of kings.

BASTARDHa, majesty! How high your glory towersWhen the rich blood of kings is set on fire!Now Death smiles at us with a grill of steel;The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs,And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,In undetermined differences of kings.Why are your armies just standing around?Cry “havoc”, Kings! Back to the bloody field,You equal potents, fiery kindled spirits.Then let confusion of one part confirmThe other’s peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death!

KING JOHNCitizens! Whose side will you let in?

KING PHILIPSpeak, citizens, for England. Who’s your king?

CITIZEN ONEThe King of England, when we know the king.

KING PHILIPKnow him in us that here hold up his right.


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KING JOHNIn us that are our own great deputy;We bear possession of our person here,Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.

CITIZEN ONEA greater power than we denies you both.Until there is no doubt, we will keep lockedAll our concerns in our strong-barrèd gates.Kinged by our fears, until our fears are soothed,Purged and dethroned by the definitive King.

BASTARDBy Heaven, these punks of Angiers mock you, Kings,And stand securely on their balconiesAs in a theatre, where they gape and pointAnd watch you play out scenes and acts of death.Royal presences, do what I say:Be friends awhile and both conjointly bendYour sharpest deeds of malice on this town.I’d fire incessantly upon these jadesUntil I’d strip them of their defensesAnd leave them naked in the vulgar air.That done, dissever your united strengthsAnd part your mingled colors once again;Turn face-to-face, and bloody sword to sword.Then, in a moment, Fortune then shall chooseHer happy minion from between your sidesTo whom in favor she shall give the day,And kiss him with a glorious victory.How like you this wild counsel, mighty kings?Smacks it not something of the policy?


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KING JOHNNow by the sky that hangs above our heads,I like it well. France, shall we knit our powersAnd lay this Angiers even with the ground,Then after that, we’ll fight for who is king?

BASTARDAnd if you have the mettle of a king,Insulted as we are by this rude town,Turn the barrels of your artillery,As we will ours, against these saucy walls.And when we’ve shocked and awed them to the ground,Then we’ll defy each other, and pell-mellMake work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.

KING PHILIPLet it be so. Say, where will you assault?

KING JOHNWe from the west will send destructionInto this city’s bosom.

AUSTRIAI from the North.

KING PHILIPOur thunder from the southShall rain their drift of bullets on this town.

BASTARD (aside)A brilliant strategy! From north to south,Austria and France shoot in each other’s mouth.I’ll stir them to it. Come away, away!


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CITIZEN ONEHear us, great Kings! Let’s walk this back a bit,And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league.You’ll win the city without stroke or wound,Allow your men to die in their own bedsThat would’ve been just cannon fodder here.Persever not, but hear me, mighty Kings!

KING JOHNKeep going. We are listening to you.

CITIZEN ONEThat daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanche,Is niece to England. Can you imagineThe Prince of France with that most lovely maid?If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,Where should he find it fairer than in Blanche?If pure love should go in search of virtue,Where should he find it purer than in Blanche?If ambitious love went looking for a match,Whose veins flow richer blood than Lady Blanche?Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,Is the young Dauphin every way complete.He is but one half of a perfect soul,Left to be finished by someone like her,And she a pretty perfect half of him,Whose fullness of perfection he completes.These two such silver currents, when they join,Glorify the banks that bound them in;Two such controlling shores shall you be, Kings,To these two princes, if you marry them.This marriage will do more than any warTo open up our walls: for this strong matchWill dynamite our gates, blow them so wideWe must give entrance. But without this match,The stormy sea itself is not so deaf,Lions more confident, mountains and rocks


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More free from motion, no, not Death himselfIn mortal fury half so determined,As we to keep our city.

King Philip and Lewis the Dauphin walk aside and talk.

BASTARD(aside)Here’s a twistThat shakes the rotten carcass of old deathOut of his rags! Here’s a blow-hard indeedThat spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas,Talks as familiarly of roaring lionsAs maids of thirteen do of puppy dogs.What warrior’s behind this lusty talk?He speaks plain cannon fire and smoke and bang!He tazes them; he tortures with his tongue.Our ears are battered; not a word of hisBut buffets better than the fist of France.Christ! I was never so bethumped with wordsSince I first called my brother’s father dad.

QUEEN ELEANOR (aside to King John)Son, pay attention, listen, make this match.Give with our niece a dowry large enough,And by this knot you’ll tie and guaranteeYour now wobbly assurance to the crown.I see a yielding in the looks of France.See how they whisper. Urge them while their soulsAre capable of doing what we say,Before zeal, melted by the windy breathOf soft petitions, pity, sympathy,Cool and congeal again to what it was.

CITIZEN ONEWhy don’t you answer, double majesties,This friendly treaty of our threatened town?


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KING PHILIPSpeak England first, since you spoke first last timeWe spoke unto this city. What say you?

KING JOHNIf the Dauphin there, your princely son,Can in this book of beauty read “I love,”Her dowry will weigh equal with a queen.We’ll gild her bridal bed, and make her richIn titles, honors, and in privilege.

KING PHILIPSon, what do you say? Look in the lady’s face.

DAUPHINI do, my Lord, and in her eye I findA wonder or a wondrous miracle,I see the shadow of myself in thereWhich, being but the shadow of your son,Becomes a sun, and makes me just a shade.What can I say? I never loved myselfUntil just now I see myself through her,Drawn in the sweet reflection of her eye.

He whispers with Blanche.

BASTARD (aside)Drawn in the sweet reflection of her eye!Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow!And quartered in her heart! He shows that heWill prove to be love’s traitor. What a shame,That hanged and drawn and quartered, there should be,In such a love, so vile a jerk as he.


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BLANCHE (aside to Dauphin)My uncle’s will in this respect is mine.If he sees anything that he approves,Anything at all in you that’s to his liking,I will with ease translate it to my will.I’ll never falsely flatter you, Lewis,That all I see you in is lovable;I’ll say instead: there’s nothing that I see,Though unkind thoughts themselves would be your judge,Which I can tell would give me cause to hate.

KING JOHNWhat say these young ones? Blanche, did you decide?

BLANCHEIt’s up to you. I must by honor doWhat you in your wisdom would have of me.

KING JOHN Speak up, Prince Dauphin. Can you love my niece?

DAUPHINNo, ask me if I can refrain from love,For I do love her most unguardedly.

KING JOHNThen I’ll make you a gift of provinces:Volquessen, Touraine, Maine, Poitiers, AnjouAre yours. And I’ll throw in some hard cash too,Thirty thousand pounds, English currency.Philip of France, if this satisfies you,Then order them to join hands and be wed.

KING PHILIPIt pleases me. Young royals, close your hands.


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AUSTRIAAnd your lips too, for I am well assuredThat I did so when I was first assured!

Dauphin and Blanche join hands and kiss.

KING PHILIPNow, people of Angiers, open your gates.Let the alliance that you made play out,And at Saint Mary’s Chapel presentlyThe rites of marriage shall be celebrated.Isn’t the Lady Constance in our group?I’m certain she is not, for her presenceWould have thwarted the sealing of this match.Where’s she and little Arthur? Anyone?

DAUPHINShe’s sad and passionate in your highness’ tent.

KING PHILIPAnd by my faith, this match that we have madeWill give her sadness very little cure.Brother of England, how may we appeaseThis grieving widow? On her behalf we came,Which we, God knows, have turned the other way,To our advantage.

KING JOHNWe will heal up all,Once we pronounce young Arthur Duke of BrittanyAnd Earl of Richmond, we’ll make him lord ofThis fair town. Call the Lady Constance.Some speedy messenger should bring her nowTo our celebration. (Salisbury exits.) I trust we shall,If not fill up the measure of her will,Yet in some measure satisfy her soThat we shall stop her exclamation.


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Go we as well as haste will suffer us,To this unlooked for, unpreparèd pomp.

All but the Bastard exit.

BASTARDMad world! Mad kings! Mad goddamn compromise!John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,Has willingly departed with some landAnd France, whose armor conscience buckled on,Whom zeal and charity brought to the fieldAs God’s soldier, was flattered and seducedBy that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,That pimp who slaps honor upside the head,That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,—Who having no external thing to loseBut the word “maid” cheats the poor maid of that—That smooth-faced, gentleman, commodity,A.K.A. self interest, sways the world,The world that of itself is balanced well,Made to run even upon even ground,Till opportunity presents itselfAnd mad self-interest, this commodity,Makes it abandon all indifference,From all direction, purpose, course, intent;And this same bias, this commodity,This whore, this pimp, this malleable word,Clapped on the wandering eye of fickle France,Seduced him from his spiritual desires,From a resolved and honorable warTo a convenient and pragmatic truce.And why do I bad-mouth commodity?Only because he’s not seduced me yet.Not that I’d be able to turn him downIf he sent forth an angel with a bribe,But since my hand goes unattempted yet,


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I rant against the rich like a poor beggar.And while I am a beggar, I will rantAnd say there is no sin but to be rich;Though once I’m rich, my virtue then shall beTo say there is no vice but beggary.Commodity, since kings break faith for you,Self-interest, you’re the boss, I’ll worship too.

He exits.We will now pause for a discussion and a 10 minute break.

ACT III, SCENE 1: The French King’s Pavilion

Enter Constance, Arthur, and the Earl of Salisbury.

CONSTANCE (to Salisbury)Gone to be married! Gone to swear a peace!Will Lewis get Blanche, and Blanche those provinces?It isn’t so. Say you are mistaken.It cannot be, you do but say it’s so.I trust I cannot trust you, for your wordIs but the vain breath of a common man.I have a king’s oath to the contrary.You’ll be punished for scaring me like this.For I am sick, susceptible to fears,Oppressed with wrongs and therefore full of fears.Now, if you were to say this was a prank,With my vexed spirits I could not settle down,But I will quake and tremble all this day.What do you mean by shaking of your head?Why do you look so sadly on my son?Why do your eyes hold those pathetic tears,Like proud rivers peering over their banks?Are these sad signs a kind of guarantee?Then speak again, not all of your long tale,But this one word, whether or not it’s true.


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SALISBURYAs true as I believe you think them falseThat give you cause to prove my saying true.

CONSTANCEOh, if you teach me to believe this sorrow,Then teach this sorrow how to make me die,And let belief and life encounter soAs does the fury of two desperate men,Who in their very meeting fall and die.Lewis marry Blanche! My boy, then where are you?France friends with England, what becomes of me?Get out! I cannot stand the sight of you.This news has made you a most ugly man.

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

CONSTANCEWhich harm within itself is so heinousAs it makes harmful all that speak of it.

ARTHURI beg of you, please mother, be content.

CONSTANCEIf you who wishes me content were foul,Speckled with warts and little ugly dots,Full of unpleasing blots and sightless stains,Lame, foolish, crooked, sick, prodigious,Covered with moles and eye-offending spots,I would not care, I would then be content,For then I should not love you. You would notBecome your great birth, or deserve a crown.But you’re gorgeous, and at your birth, dear boy,Nature and Fortune joined to make you great.You may, like lilies, boast of Nature’s gifts


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And like the blooming rose. But fickle FortuneHas been corrupted, changed, and cheated you,She’s fornicating with your uncle John,And with her golden hand has prodded FranceTo trample down respect of sovereigntyAnd made Philip’s majesty bawd to them.France is bawd to Fortune and King John,That strumpet Fortune, that usurping John!Tell me, good man, is not France a liar?Defame him with your words, or go awayAnd leave me with the sadness I aloneAm destined to endure.

SALISBURYI’m sorry, ma’am,I may not go without you to the Kings.

CONSTANCEYou may, you shall. I will not go with you.I will instruct my sorrows to be proud,For grief is proud and makes his owner droop.

She sinks to the ground.

To the supremacy of my prized griefLet kings assemble, for my grief’s so greatThat no supporter but the huge firm earthCan hold it up. Here I and sorrow sit.This dirt’s my throne; let kings come worship it.

Exit Salisbury with Arthur.

Constance remains seated on the ground.Flourish. Enter King John, King Philip, Lewis the Dauphin, Blanche, Queen Eleanor, Bastard, Austria.


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KING PHILIP (to Blanche)It’s true, fair daughter, and this blessed day,Shall always be a holiday in France.

CONSTANCE A wicked day, and not a holy day!What does this day deserve? What has it doneThat it should be in golden letters setAmong the high tides in the calendar?No, rather, turn this day out of the week,This day of shame, oppression, perjury.Or, if it must stay put, let pregnant womenPray that their babies not be born today,Because their hopes will be completely lost.And, on this day let sailors know they’ll wreck;All treaties made on this day will be broke;This day all things begun come to ill end;And faith itself becomes a desperate lie!

KING PHILIPBy heaven, lady, you will have no causeTo curse the fair proceedings of this day.Have I not pledged my loyalty to you?

CONSTANCEYou have lied to me with a counterfeitResembling loyalty, which, tried-and-tested,Proves to be worthless. You are perjured. Perjured.You came in arms to spill my enemy’s blood,But now in arms you marry it to yours.The grappling vigor and rough frown of warIs cold in amity and painted peace,And my oppression has made up this league.Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured kings!A widow cries; be my husband, God!Don’t let the hours of this ungodly dayWear out the day in peace; before night falls,


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Set armed discord between these lying kings.Hear me! Please, hear me!

AUSTRIALady Constance, peace!

CONSTANCEWar! War! No peace. Peace is a war to me.Oh Limoges of Austria, how you shameThat lion’s skin. You slave, you wretch, you coward,You’re big and strong when on the stronger side;You’re Fortune’s champion, but you only fightWhen her capricious ladyship’s nearbyTo grant you safety. You’re a liar too,Suck-up to greatness. What a fool you are,A blustering fool, to brag and stamp and swearAs if on my behalf. You cold-blooded slave,Haven’t you roared like thunder on my side?Been sworn my soldier, bidding me dependUpon your stars, your fortune, and your strength?And now you go over to my enemies?You wear a lion’s skin! Strip it off, for shame,And hang a calfskin on those recreant limbs.

AUSTRIAOh that a man should speak those words to me!

BASTARD“And hang a calfskin on those recreant limbs.”

AUSTRIAYou dare not say so, villain, or you die!

BASTARDAnd hang a calf’s skin on those recreant limbs.


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Enter Pandulph.

KING PHILIPHere comes the pope’s holy ambassador.

PANDULPHHail, thou anointed deputies of God!To thee, King John, my holy errand is.I, Pandulph, of fair Milan cardinal,And from Pope Innocent the legate here,Do in his name religiously demandWhy thou against the church, our holy mother,So willfully dost spurn, and force perforceKeep Stephen Langton, chosen ArchbishopOf Canterbury, from his Holy Seat?

KING JOHNWho do you think you are, you nobody,To tax the free breath of a sacred king?You cannot, cardinal, cook up a nameSo slight, unworthy, and ridiculousTo demand I answer to, as the pope.Tell him this tale, and from the mouth of EnglandAdd this much more, that no eye-talian priestShall tax or troll in our dominions;But as we under God are supreme head,So, under God that great supremacy,Where we do reign, we will alone upholdWithout the interference of a mere mortal.So tell the pope, all reverence set apartTo him and his bogus authority.

KING PHILIP Brother of England, you blaspheme in this.


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KING JOHNThough you and all the kings of ChristendomAre stupidly led by this meddling priest,Dreading a curse that money may erase--For by the merit of vile gold, trash, dust,You purchase absolution for your sins--All by myself I fight and I opposeThis papal fake, and count his friends my foes.

PANDULPHThen, by the lawful power that I have,Thou shalt stand cursed and excommunicate,And blessèd shall be he that doth revoltFrom his allegiance to this heretic;And meritorious shall that hand be called,Canonized and worshiped as a saint,That takes away by any secret courseThy hateful life.

CONSTANCEO, lawful let it beThat I have room with Rome to curse awhile!Good father cardinal, cry out amenTo my loud curses, for without my wrongNo tongue has any power to curse him right.

PANDULPHThere’s law and warrant, lady, for my curse.

CONSTANCEAnd for mine, too. When law can do no right,Let it be lawful I can do no wrong.Law cannot give my child his kingdom here,Since he who holds the kingdom holds the law.Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong,How can the law forbid my tongue to curse?


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Philip takes John’s hand and holds it forcefully.

PANDULPHPhilip of France, on peril of a curse,Let go the hand of that arch-heretic,And raise the power of France upon his head,Unless he do submit himself to Rome.

QUEEN ELEANORYou look frightened, France. Don’t unclasp your hand.

CONSTANCE (to Eleanor)That’s the way, devil, don’t let France repent!For by disjoining hands, hell loses a soul.

AUSTRIAKing Philip, listen to the cardinal.

BASTARDAnd hang a calfskin on his recreant limbs.

AUSTRIAWell, ruffian, I must pocket up these wrongs,Because—

BASTARDYou’re wearing brand new calfskin pants.

KING JOHNPhilip, what say you to the cardinal?

CONSTANCEWhat should he say, but “Amen, cardinal!”


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DAUPHINChoose wisely father, for the differenceMay purchase you a heavy curse from Rome,Versus the loss of England as your friend.Let go the easier.

BLANCHEThe curse of Rome.

CONSTANCELewis, hold fast, the devil tempts you here,In likeness of your newly blushing bride.

BLANCHEThe Lady Constance speaks not from her faith,But from her need.

CONSTANCEOh, if you grant my need,Which only lives but by the death of faith,That need must then imply this principle,My faith may live again by death of need.Oh then, beat down my need and faith will rise,Keep my need up and faith stays beaten down.

KING JOHNYou’ve angered him, he will not answer you.

CONSTANCE (to King Philip)Oh, be removed from John and answer true!

AUSTRIADo so, King Philip. Hang no more in doubt.

BASTARDHang nothing but a calfskin, most sweet kraut.


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KING PHILIPI am perplexed and don’t know what to say.

PANDULPHWhat canst thou say but will perplex thee more,If thou stand excommunicate and cursed?

KING PHILIPGood reverend father, make my person yours,And tell me what you’d do if you were me.John’s royal hand and mine are newly knitWith all religious strength of sacred vows.When we last spoke, we promised each otherOur deep sworn faith, peace, amity, true loveBetween our kingdoms and our royal selves,And even before this truce, minutes before,Not even long enough to wash our handsTo close this royal bargain up in peace,God knows our hands were bloody and were stainedBy slaughter’s paint-brush, where revenge did paintThe fearful difference of enragèd kings.And shall these hands, so lately washed of blood,So newly joined in love, so strong in both,Undo this handshake and this liaison?Play fast and loose with faith? So joke with heaven,Make such un-constant children of ourselves,As now again to snatch our palm from palm,Unswear faith sworn, and on the marriage-bedOf smiling peace to march a bloody host,And make a riot on the gentle browOf true sincerity? Oh holy sir,Out of your grace devise, ordain, imposeSome gentle order, then we shall be blessedTo do your pleasure and continue friends.


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PANDULPHAll form is formless, order orderless,Save what is opposite to England’s love.Therefore to arms! Be champion of our church.Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse,A mother’s curse, on her rebellious son,France, thou mayst seize a serpent by the tongue,A wounded lion by its tender paw,A hungry tiger safer by its fangs,Than keep in peace that hand which thou doth hold.

KING PHILIPI may let go John’s hand, but not my oath!

PANDULPH (to King Philip)By holding on, thou forfeit thine true oathAnd instigate an inner civil war,Thy tongue against thy tongue. Oh, let thy vowFirst made to God, first be to God performed.That is, be thou the champion of our church.Thy latest oath was sworn against thyselfAnd must not be performed against thyself.For, when what thou hast sworn to do is wrong,It is not wrong to do what makes it right,And being not done, where doing tends to ill,The truth is then most done not doing it.Religion makes thou keep thy holy vows,But thou hast sworn against religionAnd mak’st thine oath a guarantee of truthAgainst thine faith, swearing to be forsworn.There is no better conquest thou canst makeThan arm thy constant and thy nobler partsAgainst these giddy loose temptations,Upon which better part our prayers come in,If you accept them. But if not, then knowThe peril of our curses light on theeSo heavy as thou shalt not shake them off.


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AUSTRIARebellion! Flat, rebel—

BASTARDWould you shut up?Will not a calfskin stop your big fat mouth?

DAUPHINFather, to arms!

BLANCHEUpon my wedding day?What, shall our feast be kept with slaughtered men?Should braying trumpets and loud thumping drums,Clamors of Hell, be measures to our pomp?She kneels.Oh, husband, hear me! Yes, alas, how newIs “husband” in my mouth! Even for that name,Which until now my tongue never pronounced.Upon my knee, I beg, don’t go to warAgainst my uncle!

CONSTANCE (kneeling)Oh, upon my knee,Made hard with kneeling, I do pray to thee,You virtuous dauphin, alter not the doomOrdained by heaven!

BLANCHENow I shall see your love. What motive mayBe stronger with you than the name of wife?

CONSTANCEThat which upholds him and that he upholdsHis honor. Oh, your honor, Lewis, your honor!


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DAUPHINI wonder, father, why you are so coldWhen such considerations call to you.

PANDULPHI will pronounce a curse upon your head.

KING PHILIPThere is no need. England, I fall from thee.

Philip lets go of John’s hand.

CONSTANCE (rising)Oh fair return of banished majesty!

QUEEN ELEANOROh foul revolt of French inconstancy!

KING JOHNFrance, you’ll regret this hour within this hour.

BLANCHEWhich side do I choose, with whom do I go?I am with both. Each army has a hand,And in their rage, I’m holding onto both.They whirl asunder and dismember me.Husband, I cannot pray that you will win.Uncle, I needs must pray that you will lose.Father, I may not wish you good fortune.Grandma, I will not wish your dreams come true.Whoever wins, on that side I will lose.

DAUPHINLady, with me, with me your fortune lies.

BLANCHEAnd where my fortune lives, there my life dies.


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She goes to him.

KING JOHN (to Bastard)Cousin, it’s time to gather up our troops.

Exit Bastard.

France, I am burning with a fiery wrath,A rage with heat of such extremityThat nothing can allay, nothing but blood,The blood, and dearest-valued blood, of France.

KING PHILLIPYour rage shall burn you up, and you shall turnTo ashes ere our blood shall quench that fire.Look to yourself, you are in jeopardy.

KING JOHNNo more than he that threatens. Let’s go fight!

They exit.

ACT III, SCENE 2: The Plains near Angiers

Alarms. Excursions. Enter Bastard, with Austria’s head.

BASTARDNow, by my life, this day grows wondrous hot.Some airy devil hovers in the skyAnd pours down mischief. Austria’s head stay putWhile I catch my breath. (He throws down head.)

Enter King John, Arthur, and Hubert.


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KING JOHNHubert, watch this boy. Cousin, wake up.My mother was assaulted in her tentAnd kidnapped, I’m afraid.

BASTARDI rescued her.Her highness is in safety, have no fear.Let’s go, my liege, for very little painsWill bring this labor to a happy end.

Exit (with the others).

ACT III SCENE 3: The Same

Alarms, excursions and retreats. Enter King John, Queen Eleanor, Arthur, Bastard, Hubert, Lords.

KING JOHN (to Eleanor)So it shall be; your grace shall stay behindAnd strongly guarded. (to Arthur) Nephew, don’t be sad.Your grandma loves you, and I soon will beAs dear to you as your own father should.

ARTHUROh this will make my mother die of grief!

KING JOHN (to the Bastard)Cousin, let’s get to England. You go firstBefore me, making sure you shake the bagsOf money-grubbing priests and liberateTheir stolen currency. Fat ribs of peaceWill now be eaten clean by my soldiers.Use my authority and all my force.


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BASTARDBell, book and candle shall not hold me backWhen gold and silver call my name so loud.I leave your highness. Grandma, I will pray,If ever I remember to be holy,For your fair safety. So I kiss your hand.

ELEANORFarewell, gentle cousin.

KING JOHNGood coz, farewell.

Exit the Bastard.

ELEANORCome here, my little grandson. Come to me.

She takes Arthur aside.

KING JOHNCome here, Hubert. Oh my gentle Hubert,I owe you much. Within this wall of fleshThere is a soul counts you her creditor,And will repay your love with interest.My friend, your freely given loyaltyLives in this bosom, dearly cherishèd.Give me your hand. I had a thing to say,But I will fit it to a better time.By heaven, Hubert, I’m almost ashamedTo say how much respect I have for you.

HUBERTI am indebted to your majesty.


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KING JOHNGood friend, you have no cause to say so yet.But you may have. Right now the time seems wrong,Yet time will come when you’ll get your reward.I had a thing to say—but let that go.The sun is shining, and the day is bright,Too full of colors and gaudy displaysFor you to pay me mind. When midnight comes,If we were standing in a graveyard then,And you were tortured by a thousand wrongs—If you could see me, really see me,Hear me, really hear me, and you could replyWith just your eyes, using your mind alone,Without the harmful sounds of words gone wrong—I could begin to tell you everything.But I cannot. I love you, you know that.And I suspect you also love me back.

HUBERTSo much so that what you would have me do,Though that my death followed upon my act,By heaven, I would do it.

KING JOHNI know you would.Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, turn your eyeTo that young boy. I’ll tell you what, my friend,He is a serpent, always in my way,And wherever I may decide to walk,He slinks beneath me. Do you understand?You are his keeper.

HUBERTAnd I’ll keep him soThat he shall not offend your Majesty.

KING JOHNDeath.


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HUBERTMy lord?

KING JOHNA grave.

HUBERTHe shall not live.

KING JOHNEnough.I could be merry. Hubert, I love you.But I won’t say what I intend for you.Remember.

Turning to Eleanor.

Madam, fare you well.I’ll leave those forces to protect your grace.

ELEANORMy blessing goes with you.

KING JOHNTo England, child.Hubert shall be your man and care for youWith all true duty. On toward Calais, go!

Exit all.


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ACT III, SCENE 4: The French King’s tent

France. Enter King Philip of France, Lewis the Dauphin, Pandulph, attendants.

KING PHILIPSo, by a roaring tempest out at sea,Our whole armada of committed shipsIs scattered and completely lost to us!

PANDULPHCourage and comfort. All shall yet go well.

KING PHILIPWhat can go well when we have run so ill?Are we not beaten? Is not Angiers lost?Arthur’s a prisoner? Several allies’ dead?And bloody John is back to England gone,In spite of our resistance on each front?

DAUPHINWhat John has won, he’s also fortified.Such swiftness with such prudent judgement met,Such detached calm in such a fierce contestIs unprecedented. Who’s read or heardOf anything that’s similar to this?

KING PHILIPI could stand England’s fortune and your praiseIf I could find a shame that equals ours—

At this exact moment Constance enters. Speak of the devil. Her hair is a mess. Like she’s blown a fuse.

Look who comes here! A grave unto a soul.I beg you, lady, come away with me!


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CONSTANCESee, now, the gruesome product of your peace.

KING PHILIPPatience, good lady. Calm down, Constance, please.

CONSTANCENo, I defy all counsel, all redress,But that which ends all counsel, true redress.Death. Death, oh amiable, lovely Death.The putrid stench, the rancid rot of flesh,Rise from your coffin’s everlasting grave.You are the enemy of happiness,And I will kiss your detestable bones,And place my eyeballs in your dull sockets,And ring my fingers with your corpse’s worms,And stop this mouth of mine with filthy dirt,And be a carrion monster, like yourself.Come, grin at me, I’ll take it that you flirt,Then French kiss me real slowly. Misery,Oh, come to me!

KING PHILIPOh fair affliction, peace!

CONSTANCENo, I have none, having breath to cry.I wish my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth!Then with my passion I would shake the world,And rouse from sleep that dull anatomyWhich cannot hear a lady’s feeble voice,And disregards her ordinary cries.

PANDULPHLady, you utter madness and not grief.


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CONSTANCEYou’re far too holy to understand me.I am not mad. This hair I tear is mine.My name is Constance. I was Geoffrey’s wife,Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost.I am not mad. I wish to God I were,For then I simply could forget myself.Oh, if I could, what grief would I forget!Preach some theology to make me mad,And you’d be named a saint, dear cardinal,For being capable of such wild grief,My reason finds it reasonably reasonableThat I might be relieved of this sadnessAnd urges me to kill, to hang myself.If I were mad, I’d just forget my son,Or madly think he was a doll, a toy.I am not mad. Too well, too well I feelThe different curse of each calamity.(to King Philip)To England, if you will.

KING PHILIPBind up your hairs.

CONSTANCEYes, I could do that, but what good is it?I tore them from their bonds and cried aloud,“Oh, that these hands could so redeem my son,As they have given these hairs their liberty.”But now I envy them their liberty,And will again commit them to their bonds,Because my little boy’s a prisoner.

She binds up her hair.

PANDULPHYour overstated grief becomes a sin.


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CONSTANCEHe talks to me who never had a son.

KING PHILIPYou are as fond of grief as of your child.

CONSTANCEGrief fills the room up with my absent child,Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,Remembers me of all his gracious parts,And plumps his empty garments with his form.Is that reason enough to love my grief?You tell me, if you had a similar lossI could give better comfort than you do.

She unbinds her hair.

I will not keep this form upon my headWhen all my wits are so disorderèd.Oh, Lord! My boy, my Arthur, my sweet son,My life, my joy, my food, my all the world,My widow-comfort, and my sorrows’ cure!

Constance exits.

KING PHILIPI fear she’ll harm herself, I’ll follow her.

He follows her.

DAUPHINThere’s nothing in this world that gives me joy.And bitter shame has spoiled the sweet world’s taste.It yields nothing but shame and bitterness.


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PANDULPHWhat have you lost by losing of this day?

DAUPHINAll days of glory, joy, and happiness.

PANDULPHIf you had won it, certainly you had.Listen, when Fortune’s really on your side,She looks at you with her most threatening eyes.It’s strange to think how much King John has lostIn this which he imagines he has won.Are you upset that Arthur’s his prisoner?

DAUPHINAs heartily as he is glad he has him.

PANDULPHYour naïve mind’s as youthful as your blood.Now hear me speak with a prophetic spirit,John has seized Arthur, and it cannot beThat while warm blood’s flowing through Arthur’s veinsUsurping John will have one minute’s peace.A scepter snatched with an unruly handMust be as violently maintained as gained,And he that stands on such a slippery slopeWill go to any lengths to stay upright.For John to stand, then Arthur needs to fall.So be it, for it cannot be but so.

DAUPHINBut what would I gain by young Arthur’s fall?

PANDULPHYou, on behalf of Lady Blanche your wife,May now make all the claims that Arthur did.


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DAUPHINAnd lose them, life and all, as Arthur did.

PANDULPHYou are naive, and green in this old world.John’s plots against you work on your behalf,For he who spills true blood for his own safetyShall find but bloody safety, and untrue.John’s act so evilly done shall cool the heartsOf all his people, freezing up their zeal,And, given any chance that they can getTo end his reign, they’ll surely cherish it.

DAUPHINMaybe he will not touch young Arthur’s life,But hold him safely in his prison cell.

PANDULPHOh, sir, when he will hear of your approach,If that young Arthur’s not already dead,Even at that news, he dies, and then the heartsOf all John’s people shall revolt from himAnd kiss the lips of their much longed-for change,And pick strong matter of revolt and wrathOut of the bloody fingerprints of John.In England now offending decencyThe bastard Faulconbridge ransacks the Church.If but a dozen French were there in arms,They could incite the English to their sideJust as a little snow, tumbled about,Someday becomes a mountain. Noble Dauphin,Go with me to your father. CelebrateWhat may be made from England’s discontentNow that their souls are doomed by John’s offense.For England, go. I will whip up your king.


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DAUPHINStrong reasons make strange actions. Let us go,If you say yes, our king will not say no.

They exit.

ACT IV, SCENE 1: A room in a castle

Enter Hubert and Executioners, with irons, rope and other torture devices.

HUBERTHeat up these irons hot, and then go hideBehind the tapestry. I’ll signal youBy tapping my foot twice. Then you rush outAnd tie the boy that you will find with meTight to that chair. Be careful. Hurry, go!

FIRST EXECUTIONER (as he exits)I hope your orders justify your deeds.

HUBERTMy orders are quite clear. Now do my will.

Enter Arthur.

Young boy, come here. I need a word with you.

ARTHURGood morning, Hubert.

HUBERTMorning, little Prince.

ARTHURI’m a little Prince with a big title.I’ll be a “Big” Prince, someday. Are you sad?


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HUBERTIndeed, I have had better days.

ARTHURHubert,I think nobody should be sad but me.But I remember, when I was in FranceFrench teenagers would act like they were sadTo get attention and sympathy—Sheesh!If I were out of prison and kept sheepI’d be as happy as the day is long.I’d e’en be happy here except I thinkMy uncle has a plan to cause me harm.He is afraid of me, and I of him.Is it my fault that I was Geoffrey’s son?It isn’t, and instead I wish to GodI were your son, so you would love me, Hubert.

HUBERT (aside)If I listen to his sweet innocence,He will awake my mercy which lies dead.Therefore I will be sudden and act fast.

ARTHURAre you sick, Hubert? You look pale today.In truth, I wish you were a little sick,Then I’d stay up all night and watch o’er you.I bet I love you more than you love me!

HUBERT (aside)His words take such possession of my heart.

He shows Arthur a paper.


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Read this, young Arthur.(aside)Here come foolish tears,Driving all thoughts of torture from my mind.I must be brief or else I’ll lose my nerveAnd cry my eyes out like some little girl.(to Arthur)Can’t you read it? Isn’t it fairly writ?

ARTHURToo fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect.Must you with hot irons burn out both my eyes?

HUBERTYoung boy, I must.

ARTHURAnd will you?

HUBERTYes I will.

ARTHURYou have the heart? When you had a headache,I wrapped my handkerchief about your brow,My very best, a princess made for me,And I never even asked it back from you,And all night long I cradled your poor headAnd like the watchful minutes to the hour,With my good cheer I helped the time to pass,Asking “What do you need? Where do you hurt?”Or “What on God’s earth can I do for you?”Many a poor man’s son would not have caredAnd ne’er have spoken one kind word to you,But you, at your bedside, you had a Prince.You might think my love was calculatedAnd crafty, you may think that if you will.If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill,


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Why then you must. Will you burn out my eyes?These eyes that never did or never willSo much as frown at you?

HUBERTI’ve sworn to do it.And with hot irons I must burn them out.

ARTHURThe iron-poker may be made red-hot,But as it approaches it’ll drink my tearsAnd quench its fiery indignationEven in the matter of my innocence,And, after that, will oxidize in rustBecause it carried fire into my eyes.Are you more stubborn-hard than hammered-iron?‘Cause if an angel should have come to meAnd told me Hubert should put out my eyes,I would not have believed him. There’s no tongueBut Hubert’s—

HUBERT (stamps his signal to the executioners)It’s time!

Enter Executioners with a length of rope, a poker.

Do as I tell you.

ARTHURSave me, Hubert, save me! My eyes are outEven with the scary looks of these hard men—

HUBERTHand me the poker, now, and tie him up.

Hubert takes the iron.


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ARTHURAll right, but do you need to be so rough?I will not struggle, look, I stand stone-still.For heaven’s sake, Hubert, please make this stop!No, hear me, Hubert! Send these men away,And I will sit as quiet as a lamb.I will not move, or wince, or speak one word.Send these fierce men away and I’ll forgiveWhatever suffering you would do to me.

HUBERT (to executioners)Go, stand within. Leave me alone with him.

EXECUTIONERI am relieved to be away from here.

Exit Executioners.

ARTHURIt looks like I have sent away a friend.He had a harsh look but a gentle heart.Let him come back, that his compassion mayGive life to yours.

HUBERTCome boy. Prepare yourself.

ARTHURThere is no other way?

HUBERTYou’ll lose your eyes.


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ARTHURIf only there were a speck in your eye,A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,Then, feeling how small things can cause such pain,Your vile intent would seem too horrible.

HUBERTIs this your promise? Stop it, hold your tongue.

ARTHURTwo tongues together could not even describeHow much is needed this one pair of eyes.Oh, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongueSo I may keep my eyes. Please, spare my eyes,Although they have no use but seeing you.

Arthur seizes the iron.

But, feel this now, the poker is ice-coldAnd could not burn me.

HUBERTI can heat it, boy.

ARTHURNo, you cannot. The fire has died from grief,Being created for comfort, to be usedIn violent extremes. Look for yourself.There is no malice in this burning coal.The breath of heaven has blown the fire outAnd scattered repentant ashes on its head.

HUBERTBut with my breath I can revive it, boy.


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ARTHURAnd if you do, you will but make it blushAnd glow through shame of your proceedings, Hubert.Or worse. It might send sparks into your eyes,All things that you should use to do me wrongDeny their office. Only you do lackThat mercy, which fierce fire and iron extend,Creatures of note for mercy-lacking uses.

HUBERTWell, see to live. I will not touch your eyesFor all the treasure that your uncle owns.Yet, I was sworn and charged to do so, boy,And with this very iron to burn them out.

ARTHUROh, now you look like Hubert! All this whileYou were disguisèd.

HUBERTPeace. No more. Be still.Your uncle must believe that you are dead.I’ll fill these evil spies with false reports.And, pretty child, sleep free of doubt and sureThat Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,Will never do you harm.

ARTHURThank you, Hubert—

HUBERTSilence! No more! Go secretly with me.Much danger do I undergo for thee.

Exeunt.


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ACT IV, SCENE 2: King John’s Palace

Enter King John, Pembroke, Salisbury and other Lords.

KING JOHNHere once again we sit, once again crownedAnd looked upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes!

PEMBROKEThis “once again,” but that your highness pleased,Was once superfluous—since crowned beforeAnd your royal title was not removed.

SALISBURYTherefore, to be possessed with double pomp,To gild refinèd gold, to paint the lily,To throw more perfume on the violet,Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.

PEMBROKEBecause your royal whims must be indulged,We have to suffer through this episode,A coronation we’ve already seen,And we don’t have the time to watch repeats.

SALISBURYIn this most ancient and most well-known place,This ceremonial act now looks deformed.It frightens everyone and makes them worry--

KING JOHNMy reasons for my double coronationI have already told you, they were good.And more I will reveal when I’m less scared,Then you will understand. Meantime, just sayWhat you would have me change that is not wellAnd well shall you perceive how willinglyI will both hear, and grant you your requests.


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PEMBROKEThen I, as one that am the tongue of these,Do sound the purposes of all our hearts.We recommend the swift release of Arthur.If what you rule in peace by right you hold,Why should your fears, which as they say, attendA guilty conscience, move you to lock upYour tender kinsman and to choke his daysWith barbarous ignorance, denying himThe rich advantage of good exercise?That the crown’s enemies may not have causeTo spark rebellion, let it be our suitAs you have bid us ask, his liberty.It is not for our good that we do ask—Except our good is suited to your own—It is the best for all to set him free.

KING JOHNI hear you well. I will release the youthTo your custody.

Enter Hubert.

Hubert, what’s the news?

Hubert whispers to King John.

PEMBROKEThis is the man should do the bloody deed.He showed his warrant to a friend of mine.The imprint of a wicked heinous actStill twists his face. If you look close enough,You’ll see the traces of a guilty conscience,And I do fear that we are now too late.He has already killed him it would seem.


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SALISBURYThe color in the King’s face comes and goes.His guilt is like a boil that’s ‘bout to burst—

PEMBROKEAnd when it bursts, I fear the pus will beThe foul corruption of that sweet child’s death.

KING JOHN (Coming forward)We cannot hold mortality’s strong hand.Good lords, although my will to give is living,The suit that you demand is gone and dead.He tells me Arthur is deceased tonight.

SALISBURYIndeed, we feared his sickness was past cure.

PEMBROKEIndeed, we heard how near to death he was,Before the child himself felt he was sick.This must be answered here or in heaven.

KING JOHNWhy are you both looking at me like that?You think I hold the scissors of the Fates?Do I have power over the pulse of life?

SALISBURYThere seems to be foul play, and it’s a shameThat greatness should so grossly order death.So thrive it in your game, and so farewell.

PEMBROKEWait up, Lord Salisbury. I’ll go with youAnd find the resting place of this poor child.His blood which owned the breadth of this great isle,


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Now only owns three feet. Bad world the while!This cannot be contained, it will break outTo all our sorrow, and quite soon, no doubt.

Lords exit.

KING JOHNThey burn in indignation. I repent.There is no sure foundation set on blood,No certain life achieved by others’ death.

Enter Messenger.

You look terrified. Where is that colorThat I have seen inhabit in those cheeks?So foul a sky clears not without a storm,Pour down your weather. How goes all in France?

MESSENGERFrom France to England, never was such powerOf any foreign army on our landImposed so fully and so readily.

KING JOHNWhat? Are our spies all drinking on the job?Or are they sleeping? Where’s my mother been,That such an army could have formed in FranceWithout her having heard?

MESSENGERMy lord, her earIs stopped with dust. On April first, your nobleMother died. And I also hear, my lord,The Lady Constance died by suicide.


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KING JOHNSlow down your speed, dreadful occasion!Oh, spare me more bad news till I have pleasedMy discontented peers. What? Mother’s dead?How wildly ruined are my affairs in France!Under whose command are those French troopsYou say you’ve seen, you say are landed here?

MESSENGERUnder the Dauphin.

KING JOHNYou make me dizzyWith all this bad news—

The Bastard enters with Peter of Pomfret, a prophet.

Now, what says the worldTo your proceedings? Do not seek to stuffMy head with more bad news, for it is full.

BASTARDBut if you are afraid to hear the worst,Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head.

KING JOHNBear with me, cousin, I was overwhelmedUnder the tide, but I’ve come up for airAbove the flood and can give audienceTo any tongue, no matter what it says.


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BASTARDHow I have sped among the clergymenYou’ll see by how much money I have raised.But also, as I travelled through the land,I find your people full of strange reports,Possessed with rumors, full of idle dreams,Not knowing what they fear, but full of fear.And here’s a prophet that I brought with meFrom the village of Pomfret, whom I foundWith many hundreds treading on his heels,To whom he sung in rude harsh-sounding rhymesThat before next Ascension Day at noonYour highness should relinquish up your crown.

KING JOHNYou idle dreamer, why did you say so?

PETERI can foresee the truth shall fall out so.

KING JOHNHubert, away with him, and lock him up!And on Ascension Day at noon, just whenHe says I’ll yield my crown, string him up high.Right now take him to jail and then come back,For I still need your help.

Exit Hubert with Peter.

Gentle cousin,Have you already heard who has arrived?

BASTARDThe French, my lord. Men’s mouths are full of it.And I ran into Pembroke and Salisbury,And they’re outraged, their eyes are burning coals.They have a posse going to find the grave


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Of Arthur, whom they say was killed tonightOn your suggestion.

KING JOHNGentle cousin, goAnd thrust yourself into their company.I need to find a way to win them back.Bring them to me.

BASTARDI will go seek them out.

KING JOHNAnd let me have no home-grown enemiesWhile foreign terrorists invade my towns.Be Mercury, put feathers on your boots,And fly like thought from them to me again.

BASTARDThe spirit of the time will teach me speed.

He leaves.

KING JOHNSpoke like a true quick-witted gentleman!Go after him, because he may just needSome back-up, some muscle, a body-guard.That’s your new job.

MESSENGERWith all my heart, my liege!

Messenger exits.

KING JOHNMy mother dead!


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Enter Hubert.

HUBERTMy lord, they say five moons were seen tonight,Four stayed in place, the fifth one spun aroundThe other four in wonderful motion!

KING JOHNFake news!

HUBERTOld men and old crones in the streetsAre speculating on it dangerously.They’re saying Arthur’s dead, they’re gossipingAnd when they talk of him, they shake their heads,And whisper rumors in each other’s ears.I saw a blacksmith standing, listening,As his iron on his anvil lost its heat.With open mouth, he swallowed the tailor’s news.The tailor, with his scissors and his tape,Stood in his slippers, which he had thrown onBecause he couldn’t pause to lace his boots.He warned of the battalions of the FrenchGathering in warlike order down in Kent,And as they spoke another citizenCut short that tale and talked of Arthur’s death.

KING JOHNWhy do you want to burden me with fears?Why do you speak so much of Arthur’s death?You murdered him. It’s true I had my reasonsTo wish him dead, but you had none to kill him.

HUBERTWhy order me to do what you don’t want?


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KING JOHNIt is the curse of kings to be surroundedBy sycophants who call a whim a warrant,And on the pretense of authorityTo understand a law, to know the meaningOf awesome royalty and its mere frowns—To misinterpret our “moods” as “orders.”

HUBERT (Shows him the warrant)Here is your hand and seal for what I did.

KING JOHNOh, when the final tale of heaven and earthIs written, then this letter, signed and sealed,Condemns us to eternal damnation.The sight of someone evil is oftenSo suggestive. Had you not been nearby,Staring at me with your contorted face,This murder wouldn’t have come into my mind.But taking note of your disfigurement,Sensing your willingness to kill the child,I hinted slightly at young Arthur’s death,And you, being a total brown-noser,Took it upon yourself to kill a prince!

HUBERTWhat the hell?

KING JOHNIf only you had shook your head, or pausedWhen I spoke darkly what I’d merely mused,If you had turned a doubtful eye to me,Told me to speak exactly what I meant,Deep shame would have silenced me, made me stopAnd your doubts would have spawned such doubts in me.Instead you dared presume to read my mind,


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Supplanting my thoughts with thoughts of your own.Consequently, your harsh hand committedThe action which neither of us could speak.Get out of my sight, and never look at me.My nobles have left, and my realm faces ruin,And in my own body, this human flesh,This kingdom, this prison of blood and breath,Hostility and civil tumult reignsBetween my conscience and that child’s death.

HUBERTI’ll make a peace between your soul and you.Young Arthur is alive. This hand of mineIs still a virgin, keeps its innocence,Isn’t tainted with crimson drops of blood.Within my heart there has never enteredThe dreadful motion of a murderous thought,And you have slandered my humanity.I would never butcher an innocent child.

KING JOHNArthur’s alive? High-tail it to the peers!Throw this water upon their fiery rage,And make them tame and pledge obedience!And also, please forgive what I have saidAbout the way you look. I was pissed off,And I saw you through very angry eyes.No need to answer. But bring back to meThe angry lords with all expedient haste.I conjure you but slowly, now, run fast!

All exit.


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ACT IV, SCENE 3: Before the castle

Enter Arthur, on the walls, disguised as a ship-boy.

ARTHURThe wall is high, but I’ll attempt escape.Good ground, be merciful, and don’t hurt me.There’s no one here who knows me. If there were,This sailor’s suit has quite disguisèd me.I am afraid, and yet I’ll venture it.If I survive, and do not break my neck,I’ll find a thousand tricks to get away.As good to die and go, as die and stay.

Leaps down.

Oh merde! My uncle’s spirit is in these stones!Heaven, take my soul, and England keep my bones.

Dies.

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury and Bigot with a letter.

SALISBURYI’ll meet the Dauphin at St. Edmundsbury.It’s in our interest and we must embraceHis generous offer at this perilous time.

PEMBROKEWho brought this letter from the Cardinal?

SALISBURYThe Count Melun, a noble lord of France,Whose secret “intell” about the DauphinIs more persuasive than the cardinal’s words.


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BIGOTTomorrow morning, let us meet Melun.

Enter Bastard.

BASTARDOnce more today well-met, unhappy lords.The king requests your presence with him now.

SALISBURYThe king has disappointed all of us.We will not reinforce John’s tattered cloakWith fabric of our strength, nor serve the manThat leaves a bloody footprint where he walks.Return, and tell him so. We know the worst.

BASTARDWhatever you think you know, kind words are best.

SALISBURYOur griefs and not our manners reason now.

BASTARDBut there is little reason for your grief.Therefore, there’s reason to show manners now.

PEMBROKESir, our righteous anger takes precedence.

BASTARDIf true, to hurt yourself, but no one else.

SALISBURYThis is his prison.

Sees Arthur.

What’s that lying there?


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PEMBROKEOh, Death made proud with pure and princely beauty!The earth has not a hole to hide this crime.

SALISBURYMurder, as hating what himself has done,Here lays it open to urge on revenge.

BIGOTOr, when he doomed this beauty to a grave,Found it too precious-princely for a grave.

SALISBURY (to Bastard)Richard, what do you think? Have you seen this?Or have you read or heard, or could you thinkThat you do see? This is the very top,The height, the crest, or crest unto the crest,Of murder’s arms. This is the bloodiest shame,The wildest savagery, the vilest stroke,That ever wide-eyed wrath or staring ragePresented to the tears of soft remorse.

PEMBROKEThis makes all murders past seem justified.And this, so singular and terrible,Shall give a holiness, a purity,To the most unimaginable crimes.

BASTARDIt is a damnèd and a bloody work,The graceless action of a heavy hand,If that it be the work of any hand.


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SALISBURYIf that it be the work of any hand?It is the shameful work of Hubert’s hand,The practice and the purpose of the king,From whose obedience I free my soul,Kneeling before this ruin of sweet lifeAnd breathing to its breathless excellenceThe incense of a vow, a holy vow,No more to taste the pleasures of this world,Till I have made a glory of this handBy giving it the worship of revenge.

PEMBROKE AND BIGOT (together)Our souls religiously confirm your words.

Enter Hubert.

HUBERTLords, I am hot with haste in seeking you.Prince Arthur lives. The king now sends for you.

SALISBURYOh, he is bold and blushes not at Death!Beat it, you hateful villain. Out of here!

HUBERTI am no villain.

SALISBURY(Draws his sword.)Must I be the law?

BASTARDYour sword is bright, sir. Put it up again.

SALISBURYNot till I sheathe it in that murderer’s skin.


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HUBERTStand back, Lord Salisbury. Stand back, I say.By heaven, I think my sword’s as sharp as yours.I would not have you, lord, forget yourself,Or tempt the danger of my true defense,In case, responding to your rage, I forgetYour worth, your greatness, and nobility.

BIGOTYou piece of shit! Threaten a nobleman?

SALISBURYYou are a murderer!

HUBERTDon’t make me one.I am none yet. Whose tongue says so speaks false.

PEMBROKECut him to pieces.

BASTARD (drawing)Keep the peace, I say.

SALISBURYMove, or I will kill you, Faulconbridge.

BASTARDIf you but frown at me, or twitch your foot,I’ll strike you dead. Put up your sword instead.

BIGOTWhat will you do, renowned Faulconbridge?Defend a villain and a murderer?

HUBERTLord Bigot, I am none!


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BIGOTWho killed this prince?

HUBERTIt’s not an hour since I left him alive.I honored him, I loved him and will weepMy length of life out for his sweet life’s loss.

He weeps.

SALISBURYDon’t trust those cunning tear-drops in his eyes,For villainy can always cry on cue.He’s so well-trained he leads us to believeHis river of tears will prove his innocence.Away with me, all you whose souls despiseThe unclean odor of a slaughter-house,For I am sickened with this smell of sin.

BIGOTLet’s meet the Dauphin at St. Edmundsbury.

SALISBURYLet King John know that we’ve now joined the French.

The English lords leave.

BASTARDHere’s a good world! Knew you of Arthur’s death?Beyond the infinite and boundless reachOf mercy, if indeed you murdered him,You are damned, Hubert.

HUBERTDo but hear me, Sir.


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BASTARDHa! I’ll tell you what.You are completely damned. No-one’s more damnedThan you shall be, if you murdered this child.

HUBERTI swear on my soul--

BASTARDIf you even consentedTo this most cruel act, you should despair.And if you need a rope, the smallest threadThat spider ever twisted from her wombWill serve to strangle you, a twig will be a beamTo hang yourself. Or if you’d rather drown,Put one small drop of water in a spoonAnd it shall be as all the ocean,Enough to stifle such a villain up.

HUBERTIf I in act, consent, or sin of thought,Am guilty of stealing that sweet boy’s breath,Let hell invent new pains to torture me.He was alive.

BASTARDThen take him in your arms.I am astonished, and I lose my wayAmong the thorns and dangers of this world.

Hubert lifts Arthur’s body.

How easy can one take all England up!From forth this morsel of dead royalty,The life, the right, the truth of all this realmHas fled to heaven, and England now remainsTo tug and scramble and part by the teethThe varied interests of proud-swelling state.


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Now for the bare-picked bone of majesty,The dogs of war bristle and lick their chops,And snarl into the gentle eyes of peace.How happy is he, whose cloak is waterproofAnd can withstand this deluge. Take him away,And follow me with speed. I’ll find King John.A thousand businesses are brief in hand,And heaven itself does frown upon this land.

They exit, Hubert carrying Arthur’s little body.We will now pause for a discussion and a 10 minute break

ACT V, SCENE 1: King John’s Palace

Enter King John and Pandulph with the crown, and their attendants.

KING JOHNThus have I yielded up into your handThe circle of my glory.

PANDULPH(handing the crown to John)Take again.My hand represents the pope and bestowsYour sovereign greatness and authority.

KING JOHNNow keep your holy word. Go meet the French,And on the pope’s behalf use all your powerTo stop their marches before we’re destroyed.Our discontented counties do rebel,Our people quarrel with my right to rule,Swearing allegiance and their loyaltyTo stranger blood, to foreign royalty.It’s up to you to calm and to subdue This inundation of unrest and bile.


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PANDULPHIt was my breath that blew this tempest upAfter your stubborn treatment of the pope,But since you have converted back to Rome,My tongue shall hush again this storm of warAnd make fair weather in your war-torn land.On this Ascension Day, remember well,Upon your oath of service to the pope,Now I will make the French lay down their arms.

All exit except John.

KING JOHNThis is Ascension Day? Didn’t the prophetPromise that by Ascension Day at noonI should give up my crown? Even so I have.I did suppose it should be on constraintBut heaven be thanked, it is by my free will.

Enter Bastard.

BASTARDAll Kent’s surrendered. No one there holds outBut Dover Castle. London has receivedLike a kind host, the Dauphin and his powers.Your nobles will not listen, and are goneTo offer service to your enemy,And wild amazement hurries up and downThe dwindling number of your anxious friends.

KING JOHNWould my lords not return to me againAfter they learned young Arthur was alive?

BASTARDThey found him dead and thrown into the streets.


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KING JOHNThat villain Hubert told me that he lived!

BASTARDSo, on my soul, for all he knew, he did.But why are you suddenly so depressed?Be great in act, as you have been in thought.Don’t let the world see fear and sad distrustGovern the motion of your kingly eye.What, will they seek the lion in his denAnd scare him there, and make him tremble there?Hell, no. Let’s find our enemy and planTo meet displeasure farther from our doors.We’ll rumble him before he gets closer.

KING JOHNThe pope’s ambassador was just with meAnd he and I made such a happy deal,So much so that he promised to destroyThe Dauphin’s powers.

BASTARDOh, what a shameful deal.Should we, upon the footing of our land,Send memorandums and make compromise,Instead of beating back that beardless boy?That pampered, pompadoured French philistine?Shall he find no resistance? Lord, let’s fight!

KING JOHNYou have my blessing. I put you in charge.

BASTARDAway then, with good courage! (Aside.) Yet I knowOur troops may soon confront a prouder foe.

They exit.


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ACT V, SCENE 2: The Dauphin’s Camp at St. Edmunsbury

Enter (in arms) Lewis the Dauphin, Salisbury, Melun, Pembroke, Bigot and Soldiers.

DAUPHIN (handing a paper to Melun)My lord Melun, let this be copied outAnd keep it safe for our remembrance.Return the first draft to these English lords,Let them know that we wrote everything down,So they and we, by having both these drafts,May know just why we took this sacrament.

SALISBURYUpon our side it never shall be broken.And, noble Dauphin, even though we swearA voluntary zeal and strong beliefIn your proceedings, yet believe me, prince,I am not pleased that such a cursèd timeShould seek to heal the canker of one woundBy making many. Oh, it grieves my soulThat I must draw this weapon from my sideTo be a widow-maker! Oh, and here--It is a pity, oh, my grieving friends,That we, the sons and daughters of this landWere born to see so sad an hour as this.

He weeps.


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DAUPHINA noble temper you do show in this.Let me wipe off these honorable tearsThat fall like silver raindrops on your cheeks.Lift up your brow, renownèd Salisbury.Come, come, for you will plunge your hand as deepInto the purse of rich prosperityAs I myself do. So will everyoneWho knits his sinews to the strength of mine.

Trumpet sounds.

And even now, I think I hear an angel.

Enter Pandulph.

Here comes the cardinal, Rome’s ambassador,To bring to us divine news from the popeAnd on our action set the name of rightWith holy breath.

PANDULPHHail, noble prince of France.The news is this, King John hath reconciledHimself with Rome, his spirit hath come inThat once opposed the Roman Catholic Church.Therefore, fold up thy threatening flags and banners,And tame the savage spirit of wild war,That, like a lion fostered up at hand,It may lie gently at the foot of peace.

DAUPHINYour grace will pardon me, I won’t back down.I am too high-born to be bossed around,To be a secondary at controlTo any sovereign state throughout the world.Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars


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Between this chastised kingdom and myself,And now it’s grown too large to be blown outWith that same weak breath that ignited it.You taught me how to know the face of right,You thrust this enterprise into my heart,And now you come to tell me John has madeHis peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?Am I Rome’s slave? What money has Rome spent?What men provided? Or what weapons sentTo supplement this war? Is’t not myselfWho’s bearing all the cost? Who else but I,And those on my side, have a genuine stakeIn this business and can maintain this war?Don’t I hold here the best cards in this gameOf poker that we play for sovereignty?Do I now fold and forfeit up my hand?No, on my soul, it never shall be said.

PANDULPHYou only see the outside of this plan.

DAUPHINOutside or inside, I will not retreat.

A trumpet sounds.

What lusty trumpet now calls out to us?

Enter the Bastard.

BASTARDAccording to our diplomatic lawLet me have audience. I am sent to speak,My holy Lord of Milan, from the king.I come to learn how you have bargained here,And, from your answer, I’ll then knowIf I respond to you as friend or foe.


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PANDULPHThe Dauphin is willful and obstinate.He says point-blank he’ll not lay down his arms.

BASTARDBy all the blood that ever fury breathed,The youth says well! Now, hear our English King,He is prepared and with good reason too.This beardless sauciness of boyish troops,The king just smiles at, and is resolvedTo cudgel France and make it take the lash,And you degenerates, you ingrate rebelsOf your dear mother England, blush for shame!For your own ladies and innocent girlsLike amazons come dancing to our drums—

DAUPHINStop your blather and turn your face in peace.Our time is too precious to be squanderedOn such a windbag—

PANDULPHGive me leave to speak.

BASTARDI am not done—

DAUPHINWe will listen to neither!Strike up the drums, and let the tongue of warPlead for our interest, and our presence here.

BASTARDIndeed, your drums being beaten will cry out,And so will you, being beaten. Do but startAn echo with the clamor of your drum,And we will answer with a steady beat


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That will reverberate and drown you out.Sound but another, and another shall,Loudly as yours, rattle the firmamentAnd mock the deep-mouthed thunder. For at hand,Not trusting to this lamely limping priest,Is warlike John, and on his forehead sitsA bare-ribbed Death, whose purpose is this dayTo feast upon whole thousands of the French.

DAUPHINStrike up our drums to find this danger out.

BASTARDAnd you will find it, Dauphin, have no doubt.

Exeunt.

ACT V, SCENE 3: The Field of Battle

The field of battle. Trumpets are heard.

Enter King John and Hubert.

KING JOHNHow goes the day with us? Oh tell me, Hubert?

HUBERTBadly, I fear. How fares your majesty?

KING JOHNThis fever that I’ve had for several daysStill burns me up. And my heart is in pain.

Enter a Messenger.


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MESSENGERMy lord, your bastard kinsman, Faulconbridge,Desires your majesty to leave the fieldAnd send him word by me which way you go.

KING JOHNTell Faulconbridge we’ll meet at Swinstead Abbey.

MESSENGERYou can relax, for all of the suppliesThat were expected by the Dauphin here,Were wrecked three nights ago on Goodwin Sands.The French have lost all hope, and are fatigued.

KING JOHNOh, me. This tyrant fever burns me up,And will not let me welcome such good news.Set on toward Swinstead. To my stretcher straight.Weakness overtakes me, and I feel faint.

Exeunt.

ACT V, SCENE 4: Another Part of the Field

Enter Salisbury, Pembroke and Bigot.

SALISBURYI did not think the King had such strong friends.

PEMBROKEUp once again. Put spirit in the French.If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

SALISBURYThat misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.


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PEMBROKEThey say King John’s near death and leaves the field.

Enter Melun, wounded, led by a soldier.

MELUN (to the soldier)Lead me to the rebellious English lords.

SALISBURYWhen we were happy, we had other names.

PEMBROKEIt is the Count Melun.

SALISBURYHe’s close to death.

MELUNFly, noble English, for you are betrayed!Seek out King John and kneel before his feet,For, if the French be lords of this loud day,Lewis will recompense the pains you takeBy cutting off your heads. Thus he has sworn,And he had many witnesses, like me.

SALISBURYMay this be possible? May this be true?

MELUNHave I not hideous death within my view?Retaining but a smidgen’s worth of life,What in the world should make me now deceive,Since I must lose the use of all deceit?I say again, if Lewis wins the day,He has sworn those eyes of yours will not beholdAnother morning dawning in the East.Because my grandpere was an Englishman,


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Awakes my conscience to confess all this.In gratitude, I pray you carry meFar from the noise and tumult of the field.

SALISBURYMy arm shall give you help to bring you there,For I do see the cruel pangs of deathClear in your eye. Away, my friends! New flight,And happy newness, that puts old wrongs right.

They exit, leading off Melun.

ACT V, SCENE 5: The French Camp

Enter Lewis, the Dauphin, and one soldier.

DAUPHINI thought the sun was never going to set,It stayed and made the whole horizon blush,As England stumbled back on their own groundIn faint retire. Oh, bravely we marched off,And with a volley of triumphant shot,After such bloody toil, we said good night,And wound our tattered banners into balls,Last in the field, and almost lords of it.

Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGERWhere is my prince, the Dauphin?

DAUPHINHere. What news?


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MESSENGERThe Count Melun is dead. The English lordsBy him persuaded change their loyalties,And your supply, for which you have such need,Is cast away and sunk on Goodwin Sands.

DAUPHINTerrible news! Anathema to my heart!I did not think to be so sad tonightAs this has made me. Who was it that saidKing John escaped an hour or two beforeThe stumbling night did part our weary powers?

MESSENGERWhoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

DAUPHINWell, keep a lookout and take care tonight.The day shall not be up so soon as ITo try the fair adventure of tomorrow.

They exit.

ACT V, SCENE 6: An open place in the neighborhood of Swinstead Abbey

Enter the Bastard and Hubert in the dark.

HUBERTWho's there? Speak up! Speak quickly, or I’ll shoot.

BASTARDA friend. And what are you?

HUBERTAn Englishman.


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BASTARDWhere are you headed?

HUBERTWhy d'you give a damn?

BASTARDHubert, I think?

HUBERTAnd you think perfectly.But who are you?

BASTARDI dare you take a guess.But you’ll befriend me so much as to thinkThat I’m descended from Plantagenets.

HUBERTThat’s my mistake! Brave soldier, pardon me,For I walk here in the black brow of night,To find you out.

BASTARDBrief, then, and what's the news?

HUBERTThe king, I fear, is poisoned by a monk.

BASTARDHow did this happen? Who tasted his food?

HUBERTThe self-same monk, a scheming little shit,Whose bowels then exploded. That’s our proof.King John is conscious and may yet recover.


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BASTARDWho did you leave to take care of the king?

HUBERTHaven’t you heard? The lords are all come back,And brought Prince Henry in their company,At whose request the king has pardoned them,And they surround his royal majesty.

BASTARDHubert, we lost half of our troops tonight.These Lincoln Washes have been our undoing.Crossing these flats, the rising tide came in,Myself and my stallion barely escaped.Let’s go, you first. Conduct me to the king,I hope he won’t be dead before I come.

They exit.

ACT V, SCENE 7: The orchard at Swinstead Abbey

Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury and Bigot.

PRINCE HENRYIt is too late. The life of all his bloodIs thoroughly poisoned, and his pure brain,Which some suppose is where the soul resides,Does by the garbled comments that he makesPredict the ending of his earthly life.

Enter Pembroke.

PEMBROKEHis highness is still conscious and believesThat if he’s brought into the open airIt would perhaps allay the burning painOf the poison which makes his fever climb.


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PRINCE HENRYLet him be brought into the orchard here.Is he still ranting?

PEMBROKEHe is more cogentThan when you left him. He’s even singing.

PRINCE HENRYIt’s strange that death should sing.I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,And from the organ-pipe of frailty singsHis soul and body to their lasting rest.

SALISBURYBe of good comfort, prince, for you are bornTo set a form upon the chaos here.

Enter Attendants, carrying King John in a chair.

KING JOHNGood lord, at last my soul has elbow-room,It would not out at windows nor at doors.There is so hot a summer in my bosom,That all my bowels crumble up to dust.I am a scribbled form drawn with a penUpon a parchment, and against this fireI shrivel and shrink up.

PRINCE HENRYHow do you feel?


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KING JOHNI’m poisoned, ill-used, dead, forsook, cast off,And none of you will bid the winter comeTo thrust his icy fingers in my mouth,Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their courseThrough my burned bosom, nor entreat the NorthTo make his bleak winds kiss my parchèd lipsAnd comfort me with cold. I don’t ask much,I beg cold comfort, and you’re so aloofAnd so ungrateful, you deny me that.

PRINCE HENRYOh that there were some virtue in my tearsThat might relieve you.

KING JOHNThe salt in them is hot.Within me is a hell, and there the poisonIs, as a fiend, confined to tyrannizeMy un-reprievable, condemnèd blood.

Enter the Bastard.

BASTARDI’m hot and sweaty as a racing horse,With spleen of speed to see your majesty!

KING JOHNOh cousin, you have come to close my eyes,The tackle of my heart is cracked and burnt,And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sailAre turnèd to one thread, one little hair.My heart has one poor string to stay it by,Which holds but till your news be uttered,And then all this you see is but a clodAnd module of confounded royalty.


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BASTARDThe Dauphin is already on his way,God only knows how we shall answer him.Last night the best of my battalions,After we’d won and came home from the field—

King John dies.

SALISBURYYou breathe your dead news in as dead an ear.My liege, my lord! But now a king, now thus.

PRINCE HENRYEven so must I run on, and even so stop.What guarantee is there, what hope, what stay,When this was once a king, and now is clay?

BASTARDAre you gone, so? I do but stay behindTo do the office for you of revengeAnd then my soul shall wait on you in heaven,As it on earth has been your servant still.(To the Lords)Now, now, you stars that move in your right spheres,Where are your powers? Show now your mended faiths,And instantly return with me again.Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought.The Dauphin rages at our very heels.

SALISBURYIt seems you know not, then, so much as we.The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest,Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin,And brings us peaceful offers from the French.


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BASTARDLet it be so. And you, my noble prince,With other princes that may best be spared,Shall wait upon your father's funeral.

PRINCE HENRYAt Worcester must his body be interred,For he so willed it.

BASTARDHe shall go there then.And happily may your sweet self put onThe lineal state and glory of the land,To whom with all submission, on my kneeI do bequeath my faithful servicesAnd true subjection, everlastingly.

He kneels.

SALISBURYAnd the like offer of our love we make,To rest without blemish for evermore.

They kneel to the prince.

PRINCE HENRYI have a kind soul that would give you thanksAnd knows not how to do it but with tears.

They rise.

BASTARDLet’s pay the time all necessary woe,Though we’ve already seasoned it with grief.This England never did, nor never shall,Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,Except when it first helped to wound itself.Now that our princes have returned to us,


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Come the three corners of the world in arms,And we will shock them. Naught shall make us rue,If England to itself do rest but true.

They exit, carrying the body of King John.

END.


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