BASTARD.
Old Time the clock-setter, that bald sexton Time,
Is it as he will? Well, then, France shall rue.
BLANCHE.
The sun’s o’ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu!
Which is the side that I must go withal?
I am with both, each army hath a hand;
And in their rage, I having hold of both,
They whirl asunder and dismember me.
Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win;
Uncle, I needs must pray that thou mayst lose;
Father, I may not wish the fortune thine;
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive.
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose;
Assured loss before the match be play’d.
LOUIS.
Lady, with me, with me thy fortune lies.
BLANCHE.
There where my fortune lives, there my life dies.
KING JOHN.
Cousin, go draw our puissance together.
[Exit Bastard.]
France, I am burn’d up with inflaming wrath;
A rage whose heat hath this condition,
That nothing can allay, nothing but blood,
The blood, and dearest-valu’d blood, of France.
KING PHILIP.
Thy rage shall burn thee up, and thou shalt turn
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire.
Look to thyself, thou art in jeopardy.
KING JOHN.
No more than he that threats. To arms let’s hie!
[Exeunt severally.]