Louis speaks in romantic exaggeration — his speech about seeing himself in Blanche's eye is a deliberately over-the-top performance. Watch for how easily his princely idealism converts to political opportunism.
Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy blood,
Richard, that robb’d the lion of his heart
And fought the holy wars in Palestine,
By this brave duke came early to his grave.
And, for amends to his posterity,
At our importance hither is he come
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf,
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John.
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Welcome before Angiers, brave Austria. Arthur, that great ancestor of your bloodline, Richard, who plucked the courage from the lion And fought the holy wars in the Holy Land, Died young because of this brave duke. And to make up for that loss to his descendants, He has come here at our request To raise his banner, boy, for your sake, And to punish the usurpation Of your unnatural uncle, English John. Embrace him, love him, welcome him here.
Welcome to Angiers, brave Austria. Arthur, your ancestor of great renown, Richard, who tore the heart out of the lion And fought in the holy wars overseas, Was killed young by this very duke. Now, to make it right for his family, He's come here as we asked To wave his flag for you, boy, And to stop your uncle John's illegal claim. Welcome him, love him, and embrace him.
hey austria well met arthur ur ancestor richard who killed lions n fought in holy wars got killed young by this duke now hes here 2 help ur family wave his flag 4 u stop ur uncle johns usurpation embrace him love him welcome him
Arthur speaks in a child's register — simple, gentle, full of genuine feeling — that makes everything happening around him more terrible. Watch for the moments when his innocence punctures the adults' posturing.
God shall forgive you Cœur-de-lion’s death
The rather that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war.
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love.
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, duke.
May heaven forgive you Richard's death. Because you give his family life and shelter them under your wings in war, may you be blessed. I give you welcome with weak hands, but with a heart full of pure love. Welcome, Duke, to the gates of Angiers.
May God forgive you for Richard's death. Since you're protecting his family and fighting for what's ours, God will bless you. I welcome you with weak hands, but my heart is full of true love. Welcome, Duke, to Angiers.
god forgive richard's death you're protecting us we welcome you with all our heart
A noble boy. Who would not do thee right?
A noble young king indeed. Who would deny him his rightful place?
Now that's a noble boy. How could anyone not give him what's rightfully his?
he's noble how could we not help him
Austria is a bully who thinks himself noble — he wears Richard the Lionheart's lion-skin as a trophy, which sets the Bastard off every time he sees it. Watch for his attempts to stop fights he started.
Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love:
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac’d shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean’s roaring tides
And coops from other lands her islanders,
Even till that England, hedg’d in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Even till that utmost corner of the west
Salute thee for her king; till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
I seal my love for you with this kiss. I swear that I will never return home until Angiers and your rightful claim to France are yours, until England itself—that white-faced shore whose cliffs push back the ocean, the island hedged in by water, that fortress confident in its isolation—until even that utmost corner of the western world salutes you as king. Until then, fair boy, I will think only of war and not of home.
I'm sealing my promise with a kiss. I swear I won't go home until Angiers is yours and you have your claim to France. Not until England itself—that white-faced land whose cliffs hold back the ocean, that island walled in by water—salutes you as king. Till then, young Arthur, I'm staying here for war.
i swear it i'm staying until you're king until england itself bows to you that's my oath
Constance's speech is passionate to the point of violence — she attacks everyone around her in language that is both magnificent and relentless. Watch for how her rhetoric escalates in proportion to her powerlessness.
O, take his mother’s thanks, a widow’s thanks,
Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength
To make a more requital to your love!
Accept a mother's thanks—a widow's thanks. Until your strong hand gives my son the strength to repay your love more fully, my gratitude is all I have to offer.
Thank you, from a mother and a widow. When my son has the power to return your kindness, he will. But for now, my thanks are all I can give.
thank you from a widow when he's king he'll repay you
The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords
In such a just and charitable war.
Heaven's peace belongs to those who draw their swords in such a just and merciful war as this.
God's blessing goes to those who fight for justice like this.
god blesses just wars
Philip of France speaks in elaborate high-minded rhetoric about justice and God's will, but watch what he actually does: every time the rhetoric meets inconvenience, the rhetoric gives way. The gap between his spoken principles and his actions is the play's sharpest political comedy.
Well then, to work; our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.
Call for our chiefest men of discipline,
To cull the plots of best advantages.
We’ll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen’s blood,
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Then let's begin. Our cannon will pound the walls of this stubborn town. Call our best officers to lay out a battle plan and choose the ground. We'll lay down our soldiers' bones before these walls and wade through French blood in the marketplace, but we will make this town bow to the boy.
Right, let's go to work. We'll blast the walls of this town with cannon fire. Get our best commanders here to plan the attack. We're ready to sacrifice everything for Arthur, but we're taking this town.
let's attack cannon fire battle plans we'll take this town or die trying
Stay for an answer to your embassy,
Lest unadvis’d you stain your swords with blood.
My Lord Chatillion may from England bring
That right in peace which here we urge in war,
And then we shall repent each drop of blood
That hot rash haste so indirectly shed.
Wait for an answer to the message we sent to England. Don't attack without knowing what word Chatillion brings back. He might come with a peace offer that gives Arthur everything through negotiation rather than bloodshed. Then we'd regret every drop of spilled blood, wasted in hasty, unnecessary killing.
Hold on—wait to hear back from England. Don't attack yet. Chatillion might bring news that settles this peacefully, and then we'd regret all this killing. Let's hear what England says first.
wait let's hear from england first maybe we don't need to fight
A wonder, lady! Lo, upon thy wish,
Our messenger Chatillion is arriv’d.
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
We coldly pause for thee; Chatillion, speak.
A miracle, lady! Look, your wish is answered— Our messenger Chatillion has arrived. Chatillion, tell us England's message briefly, speak to the point; We eagerly wait to hear what you have to say.
Amazing timing, lady! Look—our messenger just showed up. Chatillion, what's England's response? Give it to us straight—we're listening.
speak now what did england say
Then turn your forces from this paltry siege
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms. The adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stay’d, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I;
His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces strong, his soldiers confident.
With him along is come the mother-queen,
An Ate, stirring him to blood and strife;
With her her niece, the Lady Blanche of Spain;
With them a bastard of the King’s deceas’d.
And all th’ unsettled humours of the land;
Rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies’ faces and fierce dragons’ spleens,
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits
Than now the English bottoms have waft o’er
Did never float upon the swelling tide
To do offence and scathe in Christendom.
Leave this worthless siege and turn your forces toward a greater task. England, impatient with your demands, has taken up arms. The contrary winds, Which delayed my journey, gave him time To land his armies as quickly as I sailed here; His forces move swiftly toward this city, His army is strong, his soldiers confident. With him comes the queen mother, A fury, stirring him toward blood and battle; With her, his niece, the Lady Blanche of Spain; And with them a bastard of the late king's. And all the restless, passionate men of the land; Rash, thoughtless, fiery volunteers, With ladies' faces and fierce warriors' fury, Have sold their fortunes to come here. In short, a braver and more fearless company Than now England's ships have carried Has never sailed across the swelling sea To cause destruction and devastation across Christendom.
Stop this siege—England's coming at you much harder. King John isn't taking this lying down. While I was sailing here, he loaded up his troops and sent them out. They're strong, they're confident, and they're on their way. He's brought his mother, his niece Blanche, and all these fierce young fighters. This is a serious military force—more fearless than anything England's sent across the sea in years.
england's coming strong army very serious threat
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance. They are at hand,
To parley or to fight, therefore prepare.
The rude sound of their drums interrupts us and cuts off more details. They're here now to either talk or fight, so prepare yourselves.
Their drums are beating and cutting off everything else—they're right here now. Either they want to talk or fight. Everyone get ready.
their drums r interrupting they're here talk or fight prepare
How much unlook’d-for is this expedition!
How unexpected this military campaign is!
Nobody saw this coming—England's mobilized so fast!
that was fast not what we expected
By how much unexpected, by so much
We must awake endeavour for defence,
For courage mounteth with occasion.
Let them be welcome, then; we are prepar’d.
To the extent they are unexpected, we must therefore Stir ourselves to defend against them, For courage grows stronger with the challenge. Let them come; we are prepared.
The more unexpected they are, the more we have to be ready. When you're challenged, you fight harder. Bring them on. We're ready.
unexpected = more dangerous we ready let them come
Forces.
Forces.
Troops forward.
forces
Peace be to France, if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own;
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven,
Whiles we, God’s wrathful agent, do correct
Their proud contempt that beats his peace to heaven.
Peace be to France, if France will grant us peace for Our just and rightful entry into our own land; If not, let France bleed, and peace go to heaven, While we, as God's instrument of justice, correct Their arrogant contempt that defies the peace of heaven.
I want peace with France—if they'll let us take back what's ours. If they won't, then France pays in blood. This is about justice. Their arrogance demands a response.
peace if they let us blood if they dont justice incoming
Peace be to England, if that war return
From France to England, there to live in peace.
England we love; and for that England’s sake
With burden of our armour here we sweat.
This toil of ours should be a work of thine;
But thou from loving England art so far
That thou hast underwrought his lawful king,
Cut off the sequence of posterity,
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape
Upon the maiden virtue of the crown.
Look here upon thy brother Geoffrey’s face;
These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his:
This little abstract doth contain that large
Which died in Geoffrey, and the hand of time
Shall draw this brief into as huge a volume.
That Geoffrey was thy elder brother born,
And this his son; England was Geoffrey’s right,
And this is Geoffrey’s. In the name of God,
How comes it then that thou art call’d a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o’ermasterest?
Peace be to England, if war returns From France back to England, where it might settle. We love England; and for England's sake We bear these heavy weapons in this hot sun. This burden should be yours to carry; But you have turned so far from defending England That you have undermined your own king's right, Severed the line of inheritance, Overturned the young prince's position, and committed A violation against the crown itself. Look here upon the face of your brother Geoffrey; These eyes, these brows, came from his face: This young boy contains the greatness that Lived in Geoffrey, and time's hand Will develop this brief version into a vast being. Geoffrey was your elder brother by birth, And this is Geoffrey's son; England was Geoffrey's right, And this is Geoffrey's claim. In God's name, How can you call yourself a king, When living blood runs in these royal veins, Which actually own the crown you are seizing?
Here's the thing: we want peace, but not at the cost of England's defense. You love England but you've rejected your own king. Geoffrey was your older brother—these are his features in this boy. He inherited England rightfully. This child is Geoffrey's son, so he has the claim. How can you call yourself king when the true heir is standing right here?
peace or war geoffrey was firstborn his son = true heir u have no right 2 throne
From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
By what authority do you, France, demand that I answer your accusations?
Who gave you the right to call me out like this, France?
who do you think you are demanding answers from me
From that supernal judge that stirs good thoughts
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right.
That judge hath made me guardian to this boy,
Under whose warrant I impeach thy wrong
And by whose help I mean to chastise it.
From the divine judge who inspires good judgment in strong leaders, Who examines the faults and injustices of power. That judge has made me guardian of this boy, By whose authority I accuse your wrong And by whose power I plan to punish it.
From God himself, who gives just rulers the wisdom to look at wrong and fix it. God made me guardian of Arthur, And by God's authority, I'm holding you accountable.
god gave me this role god says you're wrong i'll make it right
Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
But you yourself are seizing power unlawfully.
But that's exactly what you're doing—taking power that isn't yours.
you're doing the same thing seizing power
Excuse it is to beat usurping down.
It is justified to overthrow usurpers.
Taking down usurpers is the right thing to do.
stopping tyrants is justified
Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?
Who exactly are you calling a usurper, France?
Wait—who do you think the usurper is?
who's the usurper you talking about king john
The Bastard's soliloquy at the end of this scene introduces 'Commodity' as the play's key term — and it's worth understanding exactly what Shakespeare means by it. 'Commodity' in Elizabethan English meant self-interest, the pursuit of personal advantage, the conversion of principle into convenience. It's not mere greed: it's the quiet, systematic way that ideals get traded in for practical benefit. Philip of France came to the field calling himself God's champion for Arthur's rightful claim. Within one scene, he has traded that claim for his son's marriage to John's niece and a pile of territories. The Bastard names this transformation precisely: France was 'biased' by Commodity like a bowling ball curved off its true course. What makes the speech remarkable is its coda: the Bastard admits he will do exactly the same when offered the chance. This honesty — uncomfortable, self-aware, refusing easy moral superiority — is what makes the Bastard the play's most trustworthy voice.
Let me make answer: thy usurping son.
Let me answer: your usurping son.
That would be your son—the one who stole the throne.
your son he took the crown
Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!
Silence, you insolent woman! Your bastard son will be king So you can be a queen and rule the world!
Hold your tongue! You want your illegitimate son to be king just so you can be queen and control everything!
shut up stop pushing your bastard for the crown
My bed was ever to thy son as true
As thine was to thy husband; and this boy
Liker in feature to his father Geoffrey
Than thou and John in manners; being as like
As rain to water, or devil to his dam.
My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think
His father never was so true begot:
It cannot be, and if thou wert his mother.
My marriage bed was always as faithful to your son Geoffrey as yours was to your husband; and this boy looks more like his father Geoffrey Than you and John look alike in character; they're as similar As rain is to water, or a devil to its mother. My boy a bastard! By my soul, I believe His father was never so legitimately conceived: It can't be true, even if you were his mother.
I was always faithful to Geoffrey, your son, just as faithful as you were to your husband; and this boy looks more like his father Geoffrey Than you and John resemble each other in your ways; they're as alike As rain to water, or a devil to his dam. My son a bastard! I swear by my soul, His father was never born more legitimately than this: It's impossible, even if you had given birth to him.
i was faithful 2 ur son geoffrey like u were 2 ur husband this boy looks like his dad more than u n john look alike like rain 2 water or devil 2 his mom my boy a bastard?? no way his dad was born more legit than that even if u gave birth 2 him
There’s a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
There is a fine mother indeed, boy, one who disgraces your father.
That's some mother you've got—one who dishonors your father.
some mom dishonors ur dad
There’s a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.
There's a good grandmother, boy—one who would destroy you.
That's a fine grandmother for you—one who wants you gone.
what a grandmother she'd erase you if she could
Peace!
Silence!
Enough!
stop
Hear the crier!
Listen to the official messenger!
Listen up! The official has something to say!
quiet the crier's speaking
What the devil art thou?
Who the devil are you?
Who in the world are you?
who are you where'd you come from
One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An he may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard.
I’ll smoke your skin-coat an I catch you right;
Sirrah, look to ’t; i’ faith I will, i’ faith.
One that will play the devil with you, if he can catch you when you're alone. You're like the hare that's all talk and no courage. I'll strip that lion skin right off your back, if I get the chance—mark my words.
You know what? I'll give you hell if I catch you alone. You talk big but you're nothing but a coward hiding in that lion suit. I'm gonna skin you like the fraud you are.
i'll play devil watch your back that suit doesn't make you brave i'm coming for you
Blanche is given almost no space to speak, which is the play's most pointed silence — she is being sold and knows it, and her few careful lines of consent are the bravest form of honesty available to her.
O, well did he become that lion’s robe
That did disrobe the lion of that robe!
How well that lion skin became him—the same skin that he stripped from the lion!
That lion skin looks perfect on him—the one he stole from the actual lion.
that suit fits him the stolen lion suit
It lies as sightly on the back of him
As great Alcides’ shows upon an ass.
But, ass, I’ll take that burden from your back,
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack.
It sits on him as well as the lion's skin sits on Hercules' back when he's dressed as a donkey. But I'll take that burden off your shoulders, or I'll break your back trying.
That thing looks as ridiculous on him as Hercules would look in a donkey suit. But don't worry—I'll relieve you of that weight, one way or another.
he looks ridiculous like hercules as a donkey i'm gonna take it from him
What cracker is this same that deafs our ears
With this abundance of superfluous breath?
What noisy brat is this, deafening our ears with all this pointless chatter?
Who is this loudmouth filling the air with garbage?
shut up you're just noise
Louis, determine what we shall do straight.
Louis, decide what we should do immediately.
Louis, what's our move?
louis decide now
Women and fools, break off your conference.
Women and fools, stop your talking.
Women and idiots, shut up.
silence
King John, this is the very sum of all:
England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine,
In right of Arthur do I claim of thee.
Wilt thou resign them and lay down thy arms?
King John, this is what I'm here to say: England and Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine—all these rightfully belong to Arthur. Will you give them up and lay down your weapons?
King John, here's the deal: all your French territories—England, Ireland, Anjou, Touraine, Maine—they belong to Arthur by right. You gonna surrender them?
john give us the territories they're arthur's by right surrender or fight
My life as soon: I do defy thee, France.
Arthur of Brittany, yield thee to my hand;
And out of my dear love I’ll give thee more
Than e’er the coward hand of France can win.
Submit thee, boy.
My life before I surrender to France. Arthur of Brittany, come to me now, and I'll give you more than France could ever win for you. Submit, boy.
I'd sooner die. Arthur, come to your uncle here. I'll give you more than France ever could. Come on, boy.
never arth come to me i'll give you everything more than france ever will
Come to thy grandam, child.
Come to your grandmother, child.
Come here to your grandmother, sweetheart.
come to grandma child
Do, child, go to it grandam, child.
Give grandam kingdom, and it grandam will
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig.
There’s a good grandam.
Yes, go to your grandmother, child. Give grandmother the kingdom, and she'll give you a plum, a cherry, and a fig. There's a good boy.
That's right, go to Grandma. Give her the crown, and she'll give you candy. Isn't Grandma generous?
go to grandma she'll give you sweets for your kingdom
Good my mother, peace!
I would that I were low laid in my grave.
I am not worth this coil that’s made for me.
Mother, please stop. I wish I were buried in the ground. I'm not worth all this fighting that's being done for me.
Mother, stop. I just want to be dead. I'm not worth all this.
please stop i wish i was dead i'm not worth this all this for me
His mother shames him so, poor boy, he weeps.
His mother shames him so that the poor boy is weeping.
His mother's making him cry with all her insults.
his mother shames him he's crying
Now, shame upon you, whe’er she does or no!
His grandam’s wrongs, and not his mother’s shames,
Draws those heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee.
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be brib’d
To do him justice, and revenge on you.
Shame on you, whether you say nothing or everything! It's not his mother's shame that brings these tears from his eyes—it's the wrongs done to his grandmother. Heaven itself will take these tears as payment and demand justice against you.
You're shameful, either way. Those tears aren't from his mother's shame—they're from what you've done to his family. Heaven is keeping track, and it will make you pay.
shame on you those tears are heaven's payment for your crimes
Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!
You monstrous slanderer of heaven and earth!
You're a monster who slanders heaven and earth!
monster slander
Thou monstrous injurer of heaven and earth!
Call not me slanderer. Thou and thine usurp
The dominations, royalties, and rights
Of this oppressed boy. This is thy eldest son’s son,
Infortunate in nothing but in thee.
Thy sins are visited in this poor child;
The canon of the law is laid on him,
Being but the second generation
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb.
You monstrously wrong heaven and earth! Don't call me a slanderer. You and your family seize The power, royalties, and rights Of this oppressed boy. This is your son's son, Unfortunate in nothing but having you as kin. Your sins are being punished through this child; The law's full weight falls on him, Being only the second generation Removed from your sinful womb.
You're a monster who wrongs heaven and earth! Don't you dare call me a slanderer. You and your family steal The power, titles, and rights Of this poor oppressed boy. This is your own grandson, Who has no misfortune except being related to you. Your sins are being visited on this child; The law comes down hard on him, Being just the second generation Removed from your wicked womb.
ur a monster injuring heaven n earth im not a slanderer u r u n ur family steal this boys power n rights this is ur grandson unlucky only 2 know u ur sins r being punished through him the laws full weight on him being two generations from ur womb
Bedlam, have done.
Stop, mad woman.
That's enough.
enough
I have but this to say,
That he is not only plagued for her sin,
But God hath made her sin and her the plague
On this removed issue, plagued for her
And with her plague; her sin his injury
Her injury the beadle to her sin,
All punish’d in the person of this child,
And all for her. A plague upon her!
I have only this to say: he's plagued not just for her sin but because God has made her the very plague upon his life. Her sin spreads like poison to her son, and he bears the punishment of it all. A curse on her!
This is what I'm saying: he's not just punished for what she did. He IS the punishment for what she did. She cursed him with her sin.
he's plagued for her sin he bears her curse while she lives free
Thou unadvised scold, I can produce
A will that bars the title of thy son.
You reckless woman, I can produce a will that bars your son from any claim.
You crazy woman, I have proof—a will that cuts your son out completely.
i have proof a will that cuts him out
Blanche of Spain has perhaps thirty lines in the entire play, and they are among the most carefully placed in King John. She is proposed as a solution to a diplomatic impasse she had no part in creating. She is married to a man she has just met, with a treaty as her dowry. And her consent, when John asks for it, is the most diplomatically brilliant non-answer in the play: 'I see nothing in you worth hating.' That is not love, and everyone in the room knows it. But it is the only honest thing she can say. By Act 3, her wedding day is already a war, her husband fighting her uncle, her whole world split in two. And her speech then — 'Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose' — is the most economical tragedy in the play. Shakespeare gives her barely any lines because her situation speaks for itself: she is the human cost of the kings' convenience.
Ay, who doubts that? A will, a wicked will;
A woman’s will; a cankered grandam’s will!
A will, yes—a wicked woman's will. A grandmother's twisted will written in malice.
A will written by a woman's hand and a grandmother's hate.
a woman's will a grandmother's malice
Peace, lady! Pause, or be more temperate.
It ill beseems this presence to cry aim
To these ill-tuned repetitions.—
Some trumpet summon hither to the walls
These men of Angiers. Let us hear them speak
Whose title they admit, Arthur’s or John’s.
Trumpet sounds. Enter Citizens upon the walls.
Lady, peace! Control yourself. This angry arguing is not fitting for this place. Let a trumpet call the people of Angiers to the walls so we can hear what they have to say about whose claim they will accept—Arthur's or John's.
Ladies, enough! You're out of line with all this noise. Get someone to summon the people of Angiers so we can hear them declare which king they're for.
peace we need to hear from angiers let the citizens speak
Who is it that hath warn’d us to the walls?
Who is calling us to the walls?
Who wants to talk to us?
who's calling us
’Tis France, for England.
France speaking for England.
France is here, speaking for England.
france for england
England for itself.
You men of Angiers, and my loving subjects—
England stands for itself. You men of Angiers, and my loyal subjects—
I speak for England now, not France. You men of Angiers, listen to your rightful king—
im england now listen up
You loving men of Angiers, Arthur’s subjects,
Our trumpet call’d you to this gentle parle—
You loyal men of Angiers, supporters of Arthur, our trumpet has called you to this peaceful discussion—
You loyal men of Angiers who stand with Arthur, our trumpet brought you here for peace talks—
angiers arthur's men we came for peace
For our advantage; therefore hear us first.
These flags of France, that are advanced here
Before the eye and prospect of your town,
Have hither march’d to your endamagement.
The cannons have their bowels full of wrath,
And ready mounted are they to spit forth
Their iron indignation ’gainst your walls.
All preparation for a bloody siege
And merciless proceeding by these French
Confronts your city’s eyes, your winking gates;
And, but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
That as a waist doth girdle you about,
By the compulsion of their ordinance
By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made
For bloody power to rush upon your peace.
But on the sight of us your lawful king,
Who painfully with much expedient march
Have brought a countercheck before your gates,
To save unscratch’d your city’s threatened cheeks,
Behold, the French, amaz’d, vouchsafe a parle;
And now, instead of bullets wrapp’d in fire,
To make a shaking fever in your walls,
They shoot but calm words folded up in smoke,
To make a faithless error in your ears,
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens,
And let us in, your king, whose labour’d spirits
Forwearied in this action of swift speed,
Craves harbourage within your city walls.
It was for our benefit, so listen to us first. These French banners, raised up here in full view of your town, have marched this way to do you harm. Their cannons are stuffed full of fury, set in place and ready to spew their iron rage against your walls. Everything needed for a bloody siege and a ruthless assault by these French stares your city in the face, at your gates that are shut tight like closed eyes; and if we had not arrived, those quiet stones that wrap around you like a belt would by now have been forced by their artillery out of their mortar beds, and a wide breach torn open for armed violence to storm in on your peace. But the moment they saw us, your rightful king, who, with great effort and a hurried march, have brought an opposing force to your gates to keep your city's threatened face unscratched, look, the stunned French agree to talk; and now, in place of cannonballs wrapped in flame that would make your walls shake with fever, they fire nothing but soft words wrapped in smoke to trick your ears into a disloyal mistake. Give those words the little trust they deserve, good citizens, and let us in, your king, whose spirit is worn out and exhausted by this rapid march, and who asks for shelter inside your city walls.
This meeting's really for our sake, so hear me out first. See those French flags planted in front of your town? They came here to wreck you. Their cannons are loaded with fury and aimed, ready to blast your walls. A whole bloody siege is staring you right in the face. If I hadn't shown up, your walls would already be knocked out of their foundations and the French would be pouring in. But the second they saw me, your real king, who rushed here to protect you, they got scared and asked to talk. So now instead of firing cannonballs, they're firing sweet-sounding words to fool you into betraying me. Don't fall for it, folks. Trust them as much as they deserve, which is not at all, and let me in. I'm your king, I'm exhausted from marching here, and I need somewhere to rest inside your walls.
hear me out first the french came to blow up ur walls i showed up + now they wanna "talk" lol it's a trick, don't buy it let me in, ur actual king im exhausted
When I have said, make answer to us both.
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection
Is most divinely vow’d upon the right
Of him it holds, stands young Plantagenet,
Son to the elder brother of this man,
And king o’er him and all that he enjoys.
For this down-trodden equity we tread
In warlike march these greens before your town,
Being no further enemy to you
Than the constraint of hospitable zeal
In the relief of this oppressed child
Religiously provokes. Be pleased then
To pay that duty which you truly owe
To him that owes it, namely, this young prince,
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear,
Save in aspect, hath all offence seal’d up;
Our cannons’ malice vainly shall be spent
Against th’ invulnerable clouds of heaven;
And with a blessed and unvex’d retire,
With unhack’d swords and helmets all unbruis’d,
We will bear home that lusty blood again
Which here we came to spout against your town,
And leave your children, wives, and you, in peace.
But if you fondly pass our proffer’d offer,
’Tis not the roundure of your old-fac’d walls
Can hide you from our messengers of war,
Though all these English, and their discipline
Were harbour’d in their rude circumference.
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord
In that behalf which we have challeng’d it?
Or shall we give the signal to our rage
And stalk in blood to our possession?
When I have finished, respond to us both. Look, in this right hand, whose protection Is divinely pledged to the cause Of the one he holds, stands young Plantagenet, Son to the elder brother of this man, And king over him and all his possessions. For this trampled-on justice we march In warlike array across these fields before your town, Being no more your enemy than The sacred duty to aid This oppressed child compels us to be. So please Pay the loyalty you truly owe To him who deserves it, namely, this young prince, And then our arms, like a muzzled bear, Except in appearance, have all violence stopped; Our cannons' rage will be wasted Against the unreachable clouds of heaven; And with a blessed and undisturbed withdrawal, With unbroken swords and unbruised helmets, We will bring home the blood we came to spill Against your town, and leave your children, wives, and you in peace. But if you foolishly reject our offer, Neither the curve of your ancient walls Can hide you from our weapons of war, Though all these English and their soldiers Were sheltered within their rough walls. Then tell us, shall your city acknowledge us as lord On behalf of the claim we press? Or shall we give the signal to our fury And march in blood to take what is ours?
Once I've spoken, answer both of us. Look, in this right hand, which is divinely sworn To protect the justice Of this boy I hold, stands young Arthur, Son to the older brother, And king over him and everything he owns. We march across these fields for this stolen justice, And we're no more your enemy than our sacred duty To help this poor oppressed boy makes us. So pay the respect you truly owe To this young prince, who deserves it, And our weapons, like caged bears, Except we mean it, stay silent; Our cannons waste their fury On the unreachable sky; And we'll leave peacefully, our swords unbroken, Leaving home the blood we came to shed, And we'll leave your children, wives, and you unhurt. But if you're foolish enough to reject us, Your old walls can't protect you From our weapons of war, no matter how strong they are. So tell us: will your city accept us as your rightful lord, Or do we march in to take what's ours by force?
look at this boy i hold his hand hes ur true king not john hes the rightful heir we march 4 justice 4 him we r no more ur enemy than our duty 2 help him pay him the respect u owe our weapons r silent unless u make us fight we waste cannons on the sky not u we leave u in peace but if u say no we march in blood 2 take whats ours tell us: is he ur king or do we fight
In brief, we are the King of England’s subjects.
For him, and in his right, we hold this town.
Briefly, we are England's subjects. We hold this town for him and in his right.
Simple answer: we belong to England. We hold this town for him.
england's subjects this is england's town
Acknowledge then the King, and let me in.
Then acknowledge me as king and let me into the town.
Then admit I'm your king and open the gates.
admit i'm king open your gates
That can we not; but he that proves the King,
To him will we prove loyal. Till that time
Have we ramm’d up our gates against the world.
We can't do that. But we'll open to whoever proves himself king in battle. Until then, we'll keep our walls shut for our safety.
We can't. Whoever wins the fight gets the town. That's our guarantee of safety.
we can't decide whoever wins gets the town that's our safety
Doth not the crown of England prove the King?
And if not that, I bring you witnesses,
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England’s breed—
Doesn't the English crown itself prove I'm king? And if that's not enough, I bring witnesses—thirty thousand soldiers sworn to my right.
My crown proves I'm king. And I've got thirty thousand armed men to back it up.
the crown proves it i have thirty thousand men
Bastards and else.
And some bastards too.
And plenty of bastards.
and bastards
To verify our title with their lives.
Who will stake their lives to prove my title right.
Who will die to prove I'm the real king.
who'll die for me
As many and as well-born bloods as those—
France brings soldiers equally well-born—
France has soldiers just as noble—
france has troops too
Some bastards too.
Some bastards included.
And bastards too.
including bastards
Stand in his face to contradict his claim.
Who will stand against his claim to counter his kingship.
Who will stand against him and fight for Arthur.
who'll fight for arthur
Till you compound whose right is worthiest,
We for the worthiest hold the right from both.
Until you settle whose right is greater, we'll keep the town safe. That's our answer.
You figure out who's right. Till then, we're keeping this town locked up for safety.
decide who's right then we'll decide
Then God forgive the sin of all those souls
That to their everlasting residence,
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet,
In dreadful trial of our kingdom’s king!
God, forgive all those souls who will die here, and whose bodies will lie in eternal rest before the dew of morning fades. I pray their deaths serve some purpose.
God forgive everyone who's about to die here. Their bodies will rest in the earth before dawn. I hope it means something.
god forgive us for the deaths coming let them mean something
Amen, Amen!—Mount, chevaliers! To arms!
Amen. Now to your horses, knights! To arms!
Amen. Mount up, soldiers! Let's go!
amen to arms
Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e’er since
Sits on ’s horseback at mine hostess’ door,
Teach us some fence! [_To Austria_.] Sirrah, were I at home,
At your den, sirrah, with your lioness,
I would set an ox-head to your lion’s hide,
And make a monster of you.
Saint George, who slew the dragon and ever since Sits on his horse at my innkeeper's door, Teach us some fighting skill! You there, if I were at your home, Your den, with your lioness, I would put an ox's head on your lion's hide, And make a monster out of you.
Saint George, teach me how to fight! And Austria—if I caught you alone at your own home, I'd make you into a joke. I'd ruin you so bad you wouldn't recognize yourself.
if i caught you alone i'd destroy you make you look like a fool
Peace! No more.
Peace, no more of this.
Enough of this talk.
enough
O, tremble, for you hear the lion roar.
Hear the lion roar!
Listen to that roar!
hear that roar
Up higher to the plain; where we’ll set forth
In best appointment all our regiments.
Move up to the higher ground where we can spread out all our regiments in full formation.
Get up to the high ground so we can deploy all our forces properly.
to higher ground spread the army out
Speed, then, to take advantage of the field.
Hurry, or we'll lose the advantage of the battlefield.
Move fast or we lose the advantage.
hurry don't lose the field
It shall be so; and at the other hill
Command the rest to stand. God and our right!
So let it be done; position the rest of the army at that hill and keep them waiting there. God favors our cause!
Agreed. Get the rest of the troops to that other hill and keep them ready. God is with us!
cool go 2 that hill n wait god is on our side
The unnamed First Citizen and Citizens of Angiers are one of Shakespeare's most intriguing collective characters. They have watched two armies fight to a draw outside their walls, refused to open for either side, and then — when threatened with joint destruction — produced a marriage proposal that ended the war entirely. This is not cowardice or neutrality; it is a very sophisticated reading of the political situation. They understand that the kings need a face-saving exit more than they need a winner, and they provide one. The fact that the proposal completely abandons Arthur — the supposed moral justification for the whole war — is never acknowledged by anyone. The citizens of Angiers are the most purely Machiavellian figures in the play: they have no principles, only interests, and they act on those interests with brilliant clarity. Watch for how their logic echoes in the Bastard's commodity speech immediately after.
Here, after excursions, enter a Herald of France with Trumpets, to the
gates.
Here, after the battle, a Herald of France enters with trumpets at the gates.
Here the French Herald arrives with trumpet fanfares at the gates.
french herald enters with trumpets at the gates
You men of Angiers, open wide your gates,
And let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany, in,
Who by the hand of France this day hath made
Much work for tears in many an English mother,
Whose sons lie scatter’d on the bleeding ground.
Many a widow’s husband grovelling lies,
Coldly embracing the discolour’d earth;
And victory, with little loss, doth play
Upon the dancing banners of the French,
Who are at hand, triumphantly display’d,
To enter conquerors, and to proclaim
Arthur of Brittany England’s king and yours.
You people of Angiers, open your gates wide, And let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany, inside, Who by French arms has today brought Great sorrow to many English mothers, Whose sons lie dead and bloody. Many widows hold their husbands' bodies, Coldly embracing the stained earth; And victory, with small loss, plays On the waving French flags, Which are at hand, triumphantly displayed, To enter as conquerors and proclaim Arthur of Brittany as king of you all.
People of Angiers, open up. Arthur won today—badly. English mothers have lost their sons. Widows are holding their dead husbands. France won decisively, and now we're coming in to crown Arthur as your rightful king.
france won open your gates arthur is your king
Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells:
King John, your king and England’s, doth approach,
Commander of this hot malicious day.
Their armours, that march’d hence so silver-bright,
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen’s blood;
There stuck no plume in any English crest
That is removed by a staff of France,
Our colours do return in those same hands
That did display them when we first march’d forth;
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come
Our lusty English, all with purpled hands,
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes:
Open your gates and give the victors way.
Celebrate, people of Angiers, ring your bells: King John, your king and England's, approaches, Commander of this violent battle. Their armor, which marched forth so bright and silver, Returns now completely covered in French blood; Not one feather in any English soldier's helmet Has been knocked off by French weapons. Our banners come home in the same hands That carried them when we first marched; And like a triumphant group of hunters, come Our vigorous English, all with bloodied hands, Covered in the blood of their enemies: Open your gates and let the victors enter.
Celebrate! King John won! He's coming back bloodied but victorious. Every English soldier kept his weapons, his gear, his honor. They're marching back covered in French blood, with their flags still flying. Open up—your real king is here and he won.
england won king john is coming open the gates
Heralds, from off our towers, we might behold,
From first to last, the onset and retire
Of both your armies; whose equality
By our best eyes cannot be censured:
Blood hath bought blood, and blows have answer’d blows;
Strength match’d with strength, and power confronted power:
Both are alike, and both alike we like.
One must prove greatest: while they weigh so even,
We hold our town for neither, yet for both.
From our towers we have watched, from first blow to final retreat, both your armies rise and fall. The battle was hard-fought on both sides, but neither of you won. You're equally matched, and we stand back from choosing either side.
We watched the whole fight from up here. You both fought hard. Neither of you won. You're evenly matched, so we're not picking a side.
we watched neither won you're equal we choose neither
on the other, King Philip, Louis, Austria and Forces.
From the opposite side of the field, the French forces appear: King Philip, Louis, Austria, and their assembled troops.
And on the other side, here come King Philip, Louis, Austria and all their soldiers.
french forces appear king philip louis austria and their troops
France, hast thou yet more blood to cast away?
Say, shall the current of our right run on,
Whose passage, vex’d with thy impediment,
Shall leave his native channel, and o’erswell
With course disturb’d even thy confining shores,
Unless thou let his silver water keep
A peaceful progress to the ocean?
Will France shed more blood to stop justice? Shall the right that flows toward you Whose passage you block with your resistance, Burst its banks and overflow even your coastal shores, Unless you let this rightful current flow Calmly to the ocean?
How much blood will you spill to block what's right? I'm like a river that's trying to reach the sea, but you're damming me up. Keep blocking me, and I'll overflow and destroy everything around you. Let me through, or face the consequences.
justice will flow get out of the way or we'll destroy you
England, thou hast not sav’d one drop of blood
In this hot trial, more than we of France;
Rather, lost more. And by this hand I swear,
That sways the earth this climate overlooks,
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms,
We’ll put thee down, ’gainst whom these arms we bear,
Or add a royal number to the dead,
Gracing the scroll that tells of this war’s loss
With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
England, you have not shed any less blood In this bitter fight than we of France have; Indeed, you've lost more. And by this hand I swear, The hand that rules this land, Before we will lay down our rightfully-borne arms, We will defeat you, against whom we bear these arms, Or add a royal number to the dead, Honoring the record of this war's losses With slaughter paired to the names of kings.
England, you haven't spilled any less blood than we French have in this brutal war; Actually, you've lost more men. And by this hand I swear, The hand that commands this land, We won't put down our arms until We've defeated you, or we've died trying, Adding more royal blood to the list of this war's dead, With slaughter connected to the names of kings.
england u didnt lose less blood than us u lost more i swear by this hand before we drop our arms we'll win or die adding more royal blood 2 the death toll slaughter with kings names on it
Ha, majesty! How high thy glory towers
When the rich blood of kings is set on fire!
O, now doth Death line his dead chaps with steel;
The swords of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs;
And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men,
In undetermin’d differences of kings.
Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus?
Cry havoc, kings! Back to the stained field,
You equal potents, fiery-kindled spirits!
Then let confusion of one part confirm
The other’s peace. Till then, blows, blood, and death!
Look at this! How high ambition rises When the precious blood of kings is spilled! Now Death sharpens his teeth with swords; The soldiers' blades become Death's fangs; And now he feasts, tearing at human flesh, In battles between kings who don't understand each other. Why do these royal fools hesitate? Cry havoc, kings! Return to the bloody field, You equal powers, burning with anger! Let one side's destruction confirm The other's victory. Until then, blows, blood, and death!
Look at this—kings fighting over land, spilling their own blood for nothing. Death is having a feast out there, using swords as teeth. What are you waiting for? Keep fighting! Let one of you destroy the other and end this stupid stalemate. Who cares about peace? Let them kill each other.
let them fight let one side win stop this waiting
Whose party do the townsmen yet admit?
Which side do the townspeople favor?
Which side are they choosing?
whose side
Speak, citizens, for England; who’s your king?
Citizens, speak up—which king do you follow?
Citizens, who's your king?
who's your king
The King of England, when we know the king.
The King of England, once we know who the king of England is.
England's king—once we know who that is.
england's king whoever that is
Know him in us, that here hold up his right.
Know that I represent him here, defending his right with my full force.
I'm speaking for him. I'm defending his right.
i speak for him i defend his right
In us, that are our own great deputy,
And bear possession of our person here,
Lord of our presence, Angiers, and of you.
And I'm the one holding this kingdom, and I hold the power of the king himself. I am his deputy. I carry his authority.
I'm the one in command here. I hold his power. I speak for the king.
i have his power i am his voice
A greater power than we denies all this;
And till it be undoubted, we do lock
Our former scruple in our strong-barr’d gates:
Kings of our fear, until our fears, resolv’d,
Be by some certain king purg’d and depos’d.
Someone bigger than us both disputes all this. Until his power is proven to us, we're locking up our old arguments and keeping quiet.
Someone bigger than you both has a say in this. We're staying locked down till we know for sure.
someone bigger has the final say we wait
By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings,
And stand securely on their battlements
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.
Your royal presences be rul’d by me:
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,
Be friends awhile, and both conjointly bend
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:
By east and west let France and England mount
Their battering cannon charged to the mouths,
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl’d down
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city:
I’d play incessantly upon these jades,
Even till unfenced desolation
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air.
That done, dissever your united strengths,
And part your mingled colours once again;
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point;
Then, in a moment, Fortune shall cull forth
Out of one side her happy minion,
To whom in favour she shall give the day,
And kiss him with a glorious victory.
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states?
Smacks it not something of the policy?
Look at this! The city people mock you kings, Standing safely on their battlements Like they're watching a theater, watching and pointing At your military displays and your scenes of death. Listen to me, kings: join forces right now. Do what the rebels of Jerusalem did— Be friends for a moment, and both aim Your deadliest weapons at this city: From east and west let France and England mount Your cannons loaded to the mouth, Until the deafening sound breaks down The stone ribs of this arrogant city: I would pound them constantly, Until complete destruction Leaves them as exposed as the open air. Then separate your combined armies, And face each other again; Turn face to face, with weapons drawn; Then, in a moment, Fortune will select From one side her lucky favorite, Who will get her blessing and win the day, And she will kiss him with a glorious victory. How do you like this wild plan, you mighty rulers? Does it not sound like wisdom?
Look—the city is mocking you from their walls like you're putting on a show. Stop this nonsense. Join forces, destroy Angiers together, Blast their walls to nothing, leave it empty. Then, once the city's gone, turn on each other and settle this like real kings. Fortune will pick a winner, and you'll have your answer without this stalemate. What do you think? Good plan or what?
destroy the city first then fight each other fortune picks the winner
Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads,
I like it well. France, shall we knit our powers
And lay this Angiers even with the ground;
Then after fight who shall be king of it?
Now, by the sky that hangs above our heads, I like it very much. France, shall we combine our forces And flatten Angiers to the ground; Then afterward we fight each other to see who shall be king of it?
By heaven, I like this plan! France, let's join our armies And destroy Angiers completely; Then after we've leveled it, we fight each other for possession.
nice plan! france lets combine our forces flat angiers 2 the ground then we fight each other 4 who gets it
An if thou hast the mettle of a king,
Being wrong’d as we are by this peevish town,
Turn thou the mouth of thy artillery,
As we will ours, against these saucy walls;
And when that we have dash’d them to the ground,
Why then defy each other, and pell-mell,
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.
If you have the courage of a true king, since this stubborn town insults us both, point the barrels of your cannons, just as we will point ours, at these arrogant walls; and once we have smashed them flat, then go ahead and challenge each other, and in a wild free-for-all fight it out among ourselves, whether it ends in heaven or hell.
If you've got the guts a king should have, then look, this bratty town has insulted both of us. So aim your cannons at their cheeky walls, and we'll aim ours too. Once we've knocked them to the ground, then you two can go back to being enemies and brawl it out, no holds barred, heaven or hell.
ok kings, team up rn blast these rude walls together once they're rubble THEN fight each other all out, heaven or hell
Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?
Agreed. Where should we strike?
Okay. Where do we hit?
where do we attack
We from the west will send destruction
Into this city’s bosom.
We'll send destruction from the west into the heart of this city.
I'll hit them from the west side.
west side attack
I from the north.
I'll come from the north.
I'm going north.
north
Our thunder from the south
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.
And France will rain cannon fire from the south. Everything will be destroyed.
I'll pound them from the south with cannon fire.
south cannon fire
O prudent discipline! From north to south,
Austria and France shoot in each other’s mouth:
I’ll stir them to it.—Come, away, away!
Oh, what perfect strategy! North, south, and west—you're pointed at each other's mouths! You'll shoot each other in the teeth before you ever hit the town. But I'll keep you fighting till the walls fall anyway.
Perfect! You're gonna shoot each other in the face before you hit the town. But I like it—keep fighting till the walls come down.
perfect strategy you'll kill each other first the walls fall last
Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay,
And I shall show you peace and fair-fac’d league;
Win you this city without stroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds
That here come sacrifices for the field:
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.
Great kings, hear us! Please hold your attack for a moment. I have something to show you—a path to peace and a fair agreement. Forgive your anger and listen.
Hold on, kings! Stop for a second! We have a deal for you—a way to peace that'll make you both happy.
stop wait listen we have peace
The exchange between Constance and Eleanor in this scene is one of Shakespeare's most vicious verbal duels, and it gets consistently underplayed in productions that focus on the kings. What makes it remarkable is the precision of the insults: Eleanor attacks Arthur's legitimacy (calling him a bastard, implying Constance's motive is self-advancement); Constance counters by attacking Eleanor's fitness as a mother and grandmother (Eleanor's sin of raising John to power is being visited on Arthur). Both women are essentially right, and both are attacking each other with the truth. But Eleanor has one weapon Constance doesn't: political power. And Constance has one weapon Eleanor doesn't: righteousness. The tragedy of the play is that righteousness, in this world, loses to power every time — until the very end, when even power gives way.
Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear.
Speak freely. We're ready to listen.
Go ahead. We're listening.
speak
That daughter there of Spain, the Lady Blanche,
Is niece to England. Look upon the years
Of Louis the Dauphin and that lovely maid.
If lusty love should go in quest of beauty,
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanche?
If zealous love should go in search of virtue,
Where should he find it purer than in Blanche?
If love ambitious sought a match of birth,
Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanche?
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth,
Is the young Dauphin every way complete.
If not complete of, say he is not she;
And she again wants nothing, to name want,
If want it be not that she is not he:
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such a she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.
O, two such silver currents, when they join
Do glorify the banks that bound them in;
And two such shores to two such streams made one,
Two such controlling bounds shall you be, kings,
To these two princes, if you marry them.
This union shall do more than battery can
To our fast-closed gates; for at this match,
With swifter spleen than powder can enforce,
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope,
And give you entrance. But without this match,
The sea enraged is not half so deaf,
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks
More free from motion; no, not Death himself
In mortal fury half so peremptory
As we to keep this city.
Look at this young woman, the Lady Blanche of Spain—she is niece to England. Consider the ages of Louis the Dauphin and this fair woman. If love seeking beauty should search anywhere, where would it find beauty fairer than Blanche? If faithful love seeking virtue should search anywhere, where would it find virtue purer than Blanche? If ambitious love seeking a worthy match should search anywhere, whose veins hold richer blood than the Lady Blanche? She is beautiful, virtuous, and well-born; The young Dauphin is complete in every way. If he is not complete, it is because she is not here with him; And she needs nothing, unless she needs him: He is the missing half of a blessed man, Waiting to be finished by such a woman; And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness only he can provide. When two such pure streams join together They glorify the banks that hold them; And two such shores to two such streams made one, Two such boundaries you could be, kings, To these two young people, if you marry them. This marriage will do more than cannons can To break open our fast-closed gates; faster than gunpowder works, We will open wide our gates, And give you entrance. But without this match, The sea in its fury is not so deaf, Lions more confident, mountains and rocks More still; even Death himself In his anger is not so absolute As we will be in keeping this city.
Look at these two—Blanche and Louis. They're perfect for each other. She's beautiful, she's virtuous, she's well-born. He's a fine young man in every way. Together, they'd be perfect. If you marry them, we'll open our gates to you without a fight. This peace through marriage will work faster than your cannons ever could. But without it? We're locked up tight, and nothing will open us.
marry them together we'll give you the city no more war needed
Here’s a stay
That shakes the rotten carcass of old Death
Out of his rags! Here’s a large mouth indeed,
That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgell’d; not a word of his
But buffets better than a fist of France.
Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words
Since I first call’d my brother’s father dad.
What a powerful speech! Here's something that can move even Death Out of his grave! What a mouth this man has— He spits out destruction and mountains, rocks and seas; Talks about roaring lions as casually As teenage girls talk about puppies! What kind of warrior father made this man? He speaks in cannons, fire, and explosions; He beats people with his words; Our ears are bruised from this man's words— Each word hits harder than a French fist. By heaven! I've never been so attacked by words Since I first called my brother's father 'dad.'
What a speech! This guy could wake the dead. He talks about destruction like it's nothing, throws around words like weapons. He's pounding us with language like a military siege. I've never been so verbally attacked in my life— His words hit harder than any fist.
what a speaker his words are weapons he's destroying us with language
Son, list to this conjunction, make this match.
Give with our niece a dowry large enough,
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsur’d assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France;
Mark how they whisper. Urge them while their souls
Are capable of this ambition,
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
Son, consider this plan, make this marriage happen. Give his daughter a large dowry, For through this marriage you will secure Your claim to the crown, So that this green boy will not have time to ripen Into his full power. I see France is willing— Watch them whisper to each other. Push them now, while they're capable Of this ambition, Before their passion cools and their resolve freezes Back to what it was.
Son, do this. Marry her. Give them enough wealth that they'll forget about fighting. See how France is wavering? Push them now before they change their mind. Once their passion cools, they'll go back to wanting war.
marry her now while france is interested don't let them change their mind
Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten’d town?
Why don't both great kings answer this friendly peace proposal? This town is threatened with destruction unless you both respond to our offer.
Both of you, answer us! This town hangs on your answer.
answer us both of you this town depends on it
Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city. What say you?
Speak, England, since you spoke first. This city called out to you to respond. What do you say?
John, you spoke first. Respond now.
john answer first
If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son,
Can in this book of beauty read “I love,”
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen.
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poitiers,
And all that we upon this side the sea—
Except this city now by us besieg’d—
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed, and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
If the Dauphin, your son, can read in this book of beauty that he loves this lady, then I'll give Blanche a dowry grand enough to make the marriage worthy of both of you. I'll give her France's richest lands.
If Louis can see that he loves her—and he will, just looking at her—I'll give her a dowry so big you'll get France back through marriage instead of war.
if he loves her and he will i'll give her all of france as dowry
What say’st thou, boy? Look in the lady’s face.
Well, boy? Look into the lady's face and tell me what you see.
Louis, look at her. What do you see?
louis look what do you see
I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself form’d in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun and makes your son a shadow.
I do protest I never lov’d myself
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.
I do, my lord, and I see a wonder in her eye. I see myself reflected there as if I'd been made in her beautiful face. When I look at her, I love myself because I see myself in her.
I see it. I see myself in her eye. Looking at her, I see me—like I was made in her face. I love her because I see myself in her.
i see myself in her eye i love her because she's me
[_Aside_.] Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!
Hang’d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,
And quarter’d in her heart! He doth espy
Himself love’s traitor. This is pity now,
That, hang’d and drawn and quarter’d, there should be
In such a love so vile a lout as he.
Drawn in the flattering mirror of her eye! Hanged in the frowning wrinkle of her brow, and torn to pieces in her heart! He catches himself falling in love. This is pitiful—that someone should be torn apart this way by such vile love as his.
Mirrored in the flattering reflection of her eye! Trapped in the frown of her brow, and ripped to shreds in her heart! He's actually falling for her. It's pathetic, really—getting destroyed by love from a guy like him.
his reflection in her eyes. trapped by her frown. torn to pieces by her heart. hes falling for her. so sad. hes such a loser.
My uncle’s will in this respect is mine.
If he see aught in you that makes him like,
That anything he sees, which moves his liking
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or if you will, to speak more properly,
I will enforce it eas’ly to my love.
Further I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this: that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge,
That I can find should merit any hate.
My uncle's will is my own in this matter. If he approves of you, then I approve. Whatever he sees in you that pleases him, I can easily translate to my own approval; Or to speak more plainly, I will force myself to approve of it easily. I won't flatter you by saying That everything I see in you is worthy of love, Except this: I see nothing in you That would deserve hate, even by the strictest judge.
My uncle decides this, and I'm okay with it. Whatever he sees in you that he likes, I can learn to like too. Plain and simple: I see nothing in you that deserves hate.
if you're good for my uncle you're good for me i don't hate you
What say these young ones? What say you, my niece?
What do these young people say? What do you say, my dear niece?
What do the young people say? Blanche, what do you think?
what do you think blanche
That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.
I am bound by honor to follow the wisdom you've shown. Whatever you decide, I will accept.
I'll do what wisdom suggests. Whatever you say goes.
i'll follow wisdom
Speak then, Prince Dauphin. Can you love this lady?
Tell me, Prince Dauphin. Can you love this lady?
So, Dauphin—can you love her?
dauphin can u love her?
Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
Ask me if I can stop loving her. I love her truly, without pretense, with all my heart.
Better to ask if I can stop. I love her—truly, honestly, all the way.
i can't stop i love her totally
Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,
Poitiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.—
Philip of France, if thou be pleas’d withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
Then I give you Vexin, Touraine, Maine, Poitou, and Anjou—five provinces—along with my niece. She brings all of it as her dowry, and you both become royal partners.
Then I'm giving you five provinces—Vexin, Touraine, Maine, Poitou, Anjou—with Blanche. That's her dowry. You two are now married partners.
five provinces with blanche vexin touraine maine poitou anjou
It likes us well.—Young princes, close your hands.
It pleases me well. Young princes, join your hands.
I like it. Come on, you two, join hands.
join hands
And your lips too; for I am well assur’d
That I did so when I was first assur’d.
And your lips too. I did the same when I first made my oath.
And kiss. I did the same when I swore my oath.
kiss i did too
Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made;
For at Saint Mary’s chapel presently
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz’d.
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?
I know she is not, for this match made up
Her presence would have interrupted much.
Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows.
Now, citizens of Angiers, open your gates, Let in the friendship that you have just made possible; For at Saint Mary's chapel shortly The marriage ceremony will be performed. Is Lady Constance in this group? I know she is not, for this marriage Would have made her protest. Where is she and her son? Tell me, who knows.
People of Angiers, open up—the wedding's happening. We're all going to Saint Mary's chapel to make it official. Constance isn't here though—if she was, she'd be furious about this. Does anyone know where she went?
open the gates the wedding's happening now where's constance
She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent.
She's sad and taking it hard at the royal tent.
She's upset and sad back at camp.
she's sad at the tent
And, by my faith, this league that we have made
Will give her sadness very little cure.—
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? In her right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turn’d another way,
To our own vantage.
By my faith, this peace we've made won't cure her sadness much. Brother of England, I want to talk to you about the cause behind all this—and to confess something we've hidden.
By my word, this peace won't fix her sadness. John, we need to talk—I need to be honest about something.
this won't fix her sadness i need to confess something
We will heal up all;
For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Brittany,
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of. Call the Lady Constance.
Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity. I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure of her will,
Yet in some measure satisfy her so
That we shall stop her exclamation.
Go we, as well as haste will suffer us,
To this unlook’d-for, unprepared pomp.
We will make up for everything; For we will create young Arthur Duke of Brittany, And Earl of Richmond; and we will make him lord of this rich city. Send for Lady Constance. Some messenger go quickly and ask her to come To our ceremony. We hope, If we cannot fully satisfy her wishes, We will at least satisfy her somewhat So that she will stop her complaints. Let us go now, as quickly as we can manage, To this unexpected and unprepared celebration.
We'll make this right. Arthur gets to be Duke and Earl of this city. Send someone to get Constance and bring her to the wedding. Maybe seeing her son get titles will calm her down. Let's go before anything else goes wrong.
arthur's a duke now let's go celebrate this is settled
Mad world! mad kings! mad composition!
John, to stop Arthur’s title in the whole,
Hath willingly departed with a part;
And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field
As God’s own soldier, rounded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil,
That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith,
That daily break-vow, he that wins of all,
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids,
Who having no external thing to lose
But the word “maid,” cheats the poor maid of that,
That smooth-fac’d gentleman, tickling commodity,
Commodity, the bias of the world,
The world, who of itself is peised well,
Made to run even upon even ground,
Till this advantage, this vile-drawing bias,
This sway of motion, this commodity,
Makes it take head from all indifferency,
From all direction, purpose, course, intent.
And this same bias, this commodity,
This bawd, this broker, this all-changing word,
Clapp’d on the outward eye of fickle France,
Hath drawn him from his own determin’d aid,
From a resolv’d and honourable war,
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.
And why rail I on this commodity?
But for because he hath not woo’d me yet.
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute my palm;
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
Since kings break faith upon commodity,
Gain, be my lord, for I will worship thee!
What a mad world! mad kings! absurd agreement! John, to stop Arthur's claim completely, Has willingly given away part of his kingdom; And France, whose armor conscience had buckled on, Who came as God's own soldier through zeal and charity, Was turned around by that same persuader, that sly devil, That broker, that breaks faith constantly, That daily breaks his vows, that wins from everyone— Kings, beggars, old men, young men, girls, Who having nothing else to lose But their virginity, cheats poor girls of that, That smooth gentleman, tempting profit, Profit, the bias that distorts the world. The world, which is naturally balanced, Made to run even on equal ground, Until this advantage, this vile-tilting bias, This influence of profit Makes it lean in every direction, Away from all fairness, purpose, direction, and intent. And this same bias, this profit, This bawd, this dealer, this world-changing word, Attached to shifty France's eye, Has pulled him from his righteous cause, From a determined and honorable war, To a base and dishonorable peace. And why do I criticize this profit? Only because it hasn't yet seduced me. Not that I couldn't grasp wealth if offered; But since my hand hasn't yet been tempted, Like a beggar, I criticize the rich. Well, while I'm a beggar, I'll criticize And say there's no sin except being wealthy; And when I'm rich, my virtue will be To say there's no vice but poverty. Since kings break faith for profit, May profit be my lord—I will worship you!
This is insane. Kings are fighting over kingdoms, but money just changed France's mind. France came here as a righteous warrior for Arthur, but one hint of profit made him back out. It's ridiculous. Money poisons everything—it makes people betray their principles. Now I'm criticizing profit because I don't have enough of it yet. But if I get rich? I'll stop criticizing it. That's how the world works—everybody has a price.
money ruins everything kings break their vows for profit even i'll sell out when i get rich
The Reckoning
This is the longest scene in the play, and the most politically devastating. Two armies arrive, neither can break the other, and then a nameless citizen — in the play's most darkly comic moment — solves the problem by offering a marriage bargain that satisfies both kings' self-interest while completely betraying the principle each claimed to be fighting for. The Bastard watches this cynical capitulation with something between admiration and disgust, and his closing 'commodity' speech is the play's central moral diagnosis. The audience leaves feeling both clever and a little dirty.
If this happened today…
Two rival tech conglomerates, each claiming to be protecting consumer rights, have been locked in a proxy war over a mid-sized city's municipal contract. Neither can win outright. A local city councilwoman interrupts: 'What if we arranged a merger instead? Your VP of acquisitions and their CFO are both single — I've seen the LinkedIn profiles.' Both boards are delighted. The actual consumers they were supposedly fighting for are never mentioned again. The cynical young analyst watching from the back of the room writes a very long memo about how 'self-interest is the only real strategy.'