King of England John
Play by William Shakespeare dramatizing the life of King John of England.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault
Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
Another lean unwash'd artificer.
Make haste, the better foot before.
Saint George, that swindg'd the dragon, and e’er since
Sits on his horse back at mine hostess’ door.
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror,
But when it first did help to wound itself.
Now these her princes are come home again,
Come the three corners of the world in arms,
And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue,
If England to itself do rest but true.
Here I and sorrows sit;
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age’s tooth.
Tell him this tale; and from the mouth of England
Add thus much more — That no Italian priest
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions.
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud;
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout.
When Fortune means to men most good,
She looks upon them with a threatening eye.