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 to Angiers, brave Austria. Arthur—your ancestor Richard the Lionheart, who took the lion's heart itself and fought the holy wars in Palestine—came to his grave through men like this duke. To make amends to you and your line, he's come here at our urging to unfold his banners for your cause and to call out your uncle John's unlawful claim to your throne. Embrace him, welcome him—show him love.
Welcome to Angiers, Austria. Arthur, your great-great-grandfather Richard the Lionheart—the one who fought in Palestine and was legendary—died because of men like this duke. To make it up to you, he's come here to fight for your claim and to expose your uncle John for the usurper he is. Give him a real welcome.
welcome austria richard the lionheart fought for you he's here to expose john for the fraud he is
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.
You speak well, and we'll listen. But Angiers has defied both France and Austria and is now watching us to see if we're serious. We must show strength—both of us must fight or watch our credibility fade. Tell her what comes next, Austria.
That's good thinking, Constance. But Angiers is watching us right now. If both of us don't attack, we lose face completely. Austria, explain what we have to do.
we have to show power angiers is watching if we don't attack we look weak
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.
Here's the truth: a town that listens to reason is fine, but one that defies you must be broken. Angiers has said it will surrender to whoever wins in battle. That's our answer—fight. We win, we take the town. It's that simple.
Look, if a town is reasonable, fine. But Angiers won't listen. They said they'll surrender to whoever wins the fight. So we fight. We win, we get the town.
angiers said we fight whoever wins takes the town so we fight
How much unlook’d-for is this expedition!
What windstorm brings this news to us? Where is this King of France and his ally Austria? We are come to challenge them—John of England does not hide from war.
What's the word from here? Where are Philip and Austria? We're ready to meet them. England doesn't run from a fight.
where are they we're ready let's fight
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.
My lord, they are encamped before the town. France and Austria have both brought their armies and lay siege to Angiers, demanding it surrender to young Arthur as his rightful inheritance.
My lord, they've got their armies camped outside the town. France and Austria are both here demanding Angiers surrender to Arthur.
they're outside the walls demanding the town surrender to arthur
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.
So this Arthur, this green boy, this weak child—they make him a cause? Very well. Let them see what English steel can teach a false claim. I will scatter them like leaves. Where is this young king who thinks he can take what is mine? Let him come. Let him taste the power of a real king.
So this is what it's about—a kid? A nobody boy? Let them come. I'll show them what it means to face England. Where is this child Arthur? Let him see what a real king can do.
a child they think a child can take my crown let them come i'll crush them
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?
Your Majesty, the French have sent an ambassador ahead. He's entering the town now to speak with the people and convince them to open the gates to Arthur.
Your Majesty, the French sent an ambassador to the town to convince them to surrender to Arthur.
france sent an ambassador to convince the town
From whom hast thou this great commission, France,
To draw my answer from thy articles?
Then we prepare the assault. No town will surrender to France while I yet draw breath. Send word: prepare the engines of war. We attack at dawn.
Then we attack. Get the siege equipment ready. No English town goes to France while I'm king.
prepare to attack get the siege gear ready
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.
So England has come at last. John himself is here with his forces. This is now a test of arms, not words. My lord Austria, are you ready to make good your oaths?
England's here. John is actually here with an army. Now it's real. Austria, are you staying true to your word?
john is here with an army this is real now
Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
I will not leave this field until your young king Arthur wears the crown that is rightfully his. I am sworn, and I will not falter.
I'm not going anywhere. I swore it, and I mean it. Arthur will be king.
i swore it i'm staying until arthur wins
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.
Excuse it is to beat usurping down.
My lord, I am grateful for your faith in me. But I fear—I am but a boy. Is there no way to settle this without so much blood? I do not wish to be king through death and slaughter.
My lord, I'm grateful. But I'm afraid—I'm just a boy. Can't we settle this without all this fighting? I don't want to become king over dead bodies.
i'm grateful but i'm scared i'm just a boy can't we settle this another way
Who is it thou dost call usurper, France?
Arthur, you are the rightful heir. Never doubt that. These men fight for justice, not conquest. Your uncle is the criminal here—he took what was never his. We fight to restore what was stolen. Be brave, my son.
Arthur, you have a right to this. Don't doubt it. These men are fighting for justice. Your uncle is the thief—he stole your crown. We're just taking back what's yours. Be strong.
you're the rightful heir don't doubt it your uncle is the thief be strong
Let me make answer: thy usurping son.
Let them come! I'm ready to meet them. This is what I came for—glory and blood and the chance to prove myself in the eyes of my uncle the king. Where is this Arthur? Where is this boy who thinks he can take England? Let me face him!
Let's get at them! I didn't come all the way here to talk. I want to fight. Where's Arthur? Let me at him!
let's fight i want to prove myself where's arthur
Out, insolent! Thy bastard shall be king,
That thou mayst be a queen, and check the world!
That's what I like to see, Richard. You've got the heart of a true Plantagenet. Go rally the soldiers. We make our stand here. This day we show the world what England can do.
That's the spirit, Richard. That's what I want to see. Go get the men ready. Today we show them what England's made of.
perfect that's the energy we need get the army ready
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.
Now both sides have gathered. England and France stand ready. The time for talk is over. Let the field decide who is right.
Both armies are here now. This is it. No more talking—let's see who wins.
both armies here time to fight
There’s a good mother, boy, that blots thy father.
Hear us, England and France. We, the people of Angiers, will not choose between you. We will surrender to whoever wins the battle before our walls. Go then—let your blood show who has the greater right.
Listen up, both of you. We're not choosing sides. Whoever wins the fight outside our walls—that's who gets the town. Fight it out.
fight it out whoever wins gets the town we're staying neutral
There’s a good grandam, boy, that would blot thee.
Agreed. England will show you what true strength looks like. Prepare for battle! For England and for St. George!
Fine by us. We'll take the town. For England!
we'll take you for england
Peace!
France accepts. Arthur will have his throne! For France and for justice!
Then we fight for Arthur. For France!
for france for arthur
Hear the crier!
Forward! For Arthur, rightful King of England!
Let's go! For Arthur!
for arthur
What the devil art thou?
The armies clash. Steel rings on steel. Soldiers shout and fall. The battle for England has begun.
Swords clash. Men shout. Blood spills. The battle begins.
clash of swords blood chaos
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're the monstrous wrongdoer, not I the slanderer. You and your family have stolen the kingdom and the rights that belong to this boy. He's the rightful heir, and your sins are being paid for by his blood—the blood of your great-great-grandson, three generations removed from the womb where your sin began.
You're the monster, and you're the one wronging everyone. You and John have stolen what belongs to Arthur. You're punishing him for your sins, and he's innocent.
you're the monster you stole his crown his blood pays for your sin
Bedlam, have done.
Stop, mad woman.
That's enough.
enough
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.
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
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 for itself. You men of Angiers, and my loyal subjects—
England speaks for England. You men of Angiers, my beloved subjects—
england speaks for england
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.
For our own advantage; so listen to us first. These French flags raised here before the town—know that I stand against them with an army greater than all of France can muster. I bring not just soldiers but the love of all England with me.
Because it benefits us—so hear me out first. I've got an army bigger than anything France can field, and I bring the loyalty of all England with it.
hear me first i have the power and england's love
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 he is done, you must answer us both. Look, in this hand I hold divine protection and the power of righteous law. Arthur stands with the blessing of heaven itself.
When he's done talking, you'll answer to both of us. My hand holds divine right and God's law—Arthur's cause is just.
answer to both god is with us arthur's cause is just
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, the dragon-slayer, who sits on horseback at my landlady's door—tell him to wake up and fight! Our battle is fierce and honorable!
Saint George, wake up! The dragon-slayer himself is sleeping on our landlady's porch. It's time to fight!
saint george wake up the dragon awaits it's time
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
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.
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!
We will. And you'll command your troops from that hill over there. Remember God and fight for what's right!
We're going. You take the north hill and command from there. God and justice are with us!
god and justice are on our side
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 men of Angiers, open your gates wide. Let young Arthur, Duke of Brittany, enter. His rightful claim is proven by the blessing of heaven and the power of France.
Angiers, open up! Arthur, Duke of Brittany, is here to claim what's his. France has proven his right.
open the gates arthur is coming he's won
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, you men of Angiers! Ring your bells! King John, your rightful king, comes here with England's full strength and power!
Celebrate! Ring your bells! King John, England's true king, is here with all his power!
ring your bells john is coming england is here
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
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?
France, have you got more blood to waste? Should our war continue? Whose army has the right to pass through these gates?
Philip, you got more blood to spill? Should we keep fighting? Who deserves the town?
more blood to waste who deserves angiers
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 haven't spilled a single drop of blood more than France has. In fact, look around—it's France that's bloodied, not England. Your soldiers are fresh while ours are cut down.
England, you haven't lost anything. Look at us—we're torn up. Your army is still intact.
look at us we're bleeding you're untouched
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!
Your Majesty, how your glory rises when the blood of kings is spilled! Now comes Death to harvest all he's sown. The tide of war rises and falls like the moon itself.
Wow, look at that glory! Kings' blood pumps you up. Death's gonna have a feast out of this.
glory kings' blood death feasts on war
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?
By heaven, these Angiers people are mocking you both! They sit safely on their walls laughing at you like you're in a play. Are you going to stand for this insult?
These cowards are laughing at you from their walls! They're mocking both of you! This is an insult!
they're mocking you from their walls laughing at both of you
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?
By the heavens above us, I like this town's spirit. France, shall we join our armies and tear down their walls together? I'll attack from the west—you hit them from your side, and we'll raze this place to the ground.
I like these people—they've got guts. Philip, what if we team up and smash this town? I'll hit from the west, you go from the north, and we level it.
they've got courage let's team up join our armies raze the walls
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've got the courage of a real king, hit back! We've been insulted by these little people, so turn your weapons against the town walls instead of against each other. Attack!
You want to prove you're a real king? Fight back! Let's forget about each other and smash this town instead!
be a real king prove your courage smash the town not each other
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
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.
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
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.
That lady there is the daughter of Spain—Blanche of Spain. She is niece to England's King John. Look at how young Louis is, and see how beautiful she is. What if the Dauphin married her?
Look at that lady—Blanche of Spain. She's John's niece. Look at the Dauphin—he's young, she's beautiful. What if they got married?
blanche of spain king john's niece louis what if they married
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.
Here's a trick that'll wake up even Death himself! Listen to what they're proposing—it's bold and clever!
Wow, this is brilliant! This could actually work!
wait this is brilliant this could work
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, listen to this proposal. Make the match happen. Give our niece a large enough dowry so that your gain outweighs any loss you'll take—then you win and keep the crown.
John, listen. Make the marriage happen. Give Blanche a big enough dowry, and you get everything—the crown stays yours.
do it marry them big dowry you keep everything
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
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.
You'll be hanged and quartered in her heart! He loves himself in her—he's been caught by love's trap and will die willingly for her.
He's hanged and quartered in her heart! He's trapped by love and he loves it.
he's caught hanged in her heart trapped by love willing to die
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 wishes are my wishes. If he sees anything in the Dauphin that makes him glad, then I will follow that same path. I don't hate him, though I can't say I love him yet.
Whatever my uncle decides is fine with me. If there's something in Louis that makes him happy, I'll go along with it. I don't hate him.
if uncle approves i'll do it i don't hate him i can't love him yet
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?
Speak now, Prince Louis. Can you love this lady?
Louis, can you love her?
louis can you 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 this peace we've made. By the blessed Virgin Mary, we will defend this city with all our strength.
Angiers, open up! Here comes the peace we just made. By Mary, we'll defend you both now.
open your gates peace is made we'll defend you
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'll heal everything. I'm making Arthur Duke of Brittany now, with all the powers and lands that come with it. And I'm taking my oath on this agreement—peace stands till the world's end.
We'll fix it. I'm making Arthur Duke of Brittany now with all the land and power that goes with it. We've got peace till the end of time.
arthur is duke of brittany peace forever
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!
A mad world! Mad kings! A crazy deal! John, to stop Arthur's claim entirely, has willingly given up five whole provinces. He said he did it for love of marriage, but that's just a cover. The real reason is Commodity—self-interest. That's the only god the world worships. Kings bend their oaths, break their promises, abandon their stated causes—all for Commodity. And when it finally comes my way, I'll worship that god too.
What a crazy world! Crazy kings! Crazy deal! John just gave away five provinces to stop Arthur's claim. He says it's for love, but it's all about profit. That's all anyone cares about—profit. Kings break oaths for it. I'll do it too when I get the chance.
mad world mad kings john gave provinces for profit everyone worships profit so will i
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.'