Bast. By heaven, these scroyles of Angiers flout you, kings,[182]
And stand securely on their battlements,
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point375
At your industrious scenes and acts of death.[183]
Your royal presences be ruled by me:[184]
Do like the mutines of Jerusalem,[185]
Be friends awhile and both conjointly bend[186]
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town:380
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'ld play incessantly upon these jades,385
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;390
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?395
Smacks it not something of the policy?[187]
K. John. 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?400
Bast. An if them hast the mettle of a king,[188]
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,405
Why then defy each other, and pell-mell
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven or hell.
K. Phi. Let it be so. Say, where will you assault?
K. John. We from the west will send destruction
Into this city's bosom.410
Aust. I from the north.
K. Phi. Our thunder from the south[189]
Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town.
Bast. O prudent discipline! From north to south:[190]
Austria and France shoot in each other's mouth:[190]
I'll stir them to it. Come, away, away![190]415
First Cit. Hear us, great kings: vouchsafe awhile to stay,
And I shall show you peace and fair-faced league;
Win you this city without stroke or wound;
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds,
That here come sacrifices for the field:420
Persever not, but hear me, mighty kings.
K. John. Speak on with favour; we are bent to hear.[191]