King of England John
Play by William Shakespeare dramatizing the life of King John of England.
There is no sure foundation set on blood;
No certain life achieved by others' death.
We cannot hold mortality’s strong hand.
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus,
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool,
With open mouth swallowing a tailor’s news.
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions,
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words,
Since I first call’d my brother’s father, dad.
I would that I were low laid in my grave:
I am not worth this coil that’s made for me.
Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room.
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds
Make deeds ill done!
Thou wear a lion’s hide! doff it for shame,
And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs.
And he that stands upon a slippery place
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
O inglorious league!
Shall we, upon the footing of our land,
Send fair-play orders and make compromise,
Insinuation, parley and base truce
To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy,
A cocker'd silken wanton, brave our fields,
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread.
Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form.
’T is strange that death should sing!
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death;
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.
So mak'st thou faith an enemy to faith;
And, like a civil war, sett'st oath to oath,
Thy tongue against thy tongue.
For courage mounteth with occasion.
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
Lord of thy presence, and no land beside.
Therefore, to be possess'd with double pomp,
To guard a title that was rich before,
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,
To throw a perfume on the violet,
To smooth the ice, or add another hue
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess.
He is the half part of a blessed man,
Left to be finished by such as she;
And she a fair divided excellence,
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him.