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My father gave me honour, yours gave land.
Now bleffed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, Sir Robert was away!
Eli. The very fpirit of Plantagenet !
I am thy grandam; Richard, call me fo.

Baft. Madam, by chance, but not by truth, what tho'? Something about, a little from the right.

In at the window, or elfe o'er the hatch:
Who dares not ftir by day, must walk by night,
And have is have, however men do catch;
Near or far off, well won is ftill well shot,
And I am I, howe'er I was begot.

K. John. Go, Faulconbridge, now haft thou thy defire,
A landless Knight makes thee a landed 'Squire :
Come, Madam, and come, Richard; we must speed
For France, for France, for it is more than need.
Baft. Brother, adieu; good fortune come to thee!
For thou was got i'th'way of honefty. [Ex. all but Baft,

SCENE III.

A foot of honour better than I was,
But many, many a foot of land the worfe!
Well, now can I make any Joan a Lady.
Good-den, Sir Richard,-Godamercy, fellow,
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;
For new-made honour doth forget mens names:
'Tis too refpective and unfociable

For your converfing. Now your traveller,
He and his tooth-pick at my Worship's mess ;
And when my knightly ftomach is fuffic'd,
Why then I fuck my teeth, and catechise
My picked man of countries,-my dear Sir,
(Thus leaning on mine elbow I begin)
I fhall befeech you,-that is Question now,
And then comes Anfwer like an ABC-book:
O Sir, fays Answer, at your best command,
At your employment, at your fervice, Sir :-
No, Sir, fays Queftion. I, fweet Sir, at yours,
And fo ere Anfwer knows what Queftion would,
Serving in dialogue of compliment,
And talking of the Alps and Apennines,
The Pyrenean and the river Po,

It

It draws towards fupper in conclufion fo.
But this is worshipful fociety,

And fits the mounting fpirit like myself:
For he is but a baftard to the time,
That doth not fmack of obfervation,
(And fo am I whether I fmack or no)
And not alone in habit and device,
Exterior form, outward accoutrement;
But from the inward motion too deliver

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison* for the age's tooth;
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn ;
For it fhall ftrew the footsteps of my rifing.
But who comes in fuch hafte in riding robes?
What woman-poft is this? hath fhe no husband
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
O me, it is my mother; now, good Lady,

What brings you here to Court so hastily?

SCENE

IV.

Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James Gurney.
Lady. Where is that flave, thy brother? where is he,
That holds in chase mine honour up and down?
Bat. My brother Robert, old Sir Robert's fon,
Colbrand the giant, that fame mighty man,
Is it Sir Robert's fon that you' feek fo?

Lady. Sir Robert's fon? ay, thou unrev'rent boy,
Sir Robert's fon, why fcorn'ft thou at Sir Robert ?
He is Sir Robert's fon, and fo art thou.

Baft. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while?'
Gur. Good leave, good Philip.

Baft. Philip! Spare me, James.

There's toys abroad, anon I'll tell thee more. [Exit James,
Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's fon.

Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his faft:
Sir Robert could do well: marry, confefs!
Could he get me? Sir Robert could not do it;

We know his handy-work, therefore, good mother,
To whom am I beholden for these limbs?

• Meaning, Flastery.

R 3

Sir

Sir Robert never help'd to make this leg.

Lady. Haft thou confpired with thy brother too,
That for thine own gain fhould'ft defend mine honour?
What means this fcorn, thou moft untoward knave?
Baft. Knight, Knight, good mother-Bafilifco-like.*-
Why, I am dub'd, I have it on my shoulder:
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son,
I have difclaim'd Sir Robert and my land,
Legitimation, name, and all is gone;

Then, good my mother, let me know my father;
Some proper man, I hope; who was it, mother?
Lady. Haft thou deny'd thyfelf a Faulconbridge?
Baft. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

Lady. King Richard Coeur-de-lion was thy father;
By long and vehement fuit I was feduc'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed.
Heav'n lay not my tranfgreffion to my charge!
Thou art the iffue of my dear offence,
Which was fo ftrongly urg'd paft my defence.
Baft. Now by this light were I to get again,
Madam, I would not with a better father.
Some fins do bear their privilege on earth,
And fo doth yours; your fault was not your folly ;
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Subjected tribute to commanding love,
Againft whofe fury and unmatched force
The awless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hands.
He that per force robs lions of their hearts,
May eafily win a woman's. Ay, my mother,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father.
Who lives and dares but fay, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll fend his foul to hell.
Come, Lady, I will fhew thee to my kin,
And they shall fay, when Richard me begot,
If thou hadst faid him nay, it had been fin;
Who fays it was, he lies; I fay 'twas not.

[Exeunt

Alluding to a part in a Play known at that time, call'd Soliman and Perfeda.

ACT

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SCENE, before the walls of Angiers in France. Enter Philip King of France, Lewis the Dauphin, the Archa Duke of Auftria, Conftance, and Arthur.

Lewis. Efore Angiers well met, brave Auftria.

great fore-aver 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 pofterity,

At our importance hither is he come,
To fpread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the ufurpation

Of thy unnatural uncle, English Jobn.

Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. God fhall forgive you Coeur-de- lion's death
The rather, that you give his off-spring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war,
I give you welcome with a pow'rless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.
Lewis. A noble boy! who would not do thee right?
Auft. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kifs,
As feal to this indenture of my love;
That to my home I will no more return,
'Till Angiers and the right thou haft in France,
Together with that pale that white-fac'd shore
Whofe foot fpurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
And coops from other lands her islanders ;
Ev'n 'till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, ftill fecure

And confident from foreign purposes,

Ev'n 'till that outmoft corner of the weft
Salute thee for her King. 'Till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.

Conft. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, 'Till your ftrong hand fhall help to give him ftrength, To make a more requital to your love.

Auft. The peace of heav'n is theirs, who lift their fwords

In

In fuch a juft and charitable war.

K. Philip. Well then, to work; our engines shall be bent
Against the brows of this refifting town;
Call for our chiefeft men of difcipline,
To cull the plots of beft advantages,
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmens blood,
But we will make it fubject to this boy.

Conft. Stay for an answer to your embaffie,
Left unadvis'd you ftain your fwords with blood,
My Lord Chatilion 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 hafte fo indirectly fhed.

Enter Chatilion.

K. Philip. A wonder, Lady! lo, upon thy with
Our meffenger Chatilion is arriv'd;

What England fays, fay briefly, gentle Lord,
We coldly paufe for thee. Chatilion, fpeak.
Chat. Then turn your forces from this paultry fiege,
And ftir them up against a mightier task.

England, impatient of your just demands,

Hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds,
Whofe leifure I have ftaid, have giv'n him time
To land his legions all as foon as I.

His marches are expedient to this town,
His forces ftrong, his foldiers confident.
With him along is come the Mother-Queen;
An Aré, ftirring him to blood and ftrife.
With her her neice, the Lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a baftard of the King deceas'd,
And all th' unfettled humours of the land;
Rafh, inconfid'rate, fiery voluntaries,
With ladies faces, and fierce dragons fpleens,
Have fold their fortunes at their native homes,
Bearing their birthright proudly on their backs,
To make a hazard of new fortunes here.
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless fpirits
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the fwelling tide,
To do offence and fcathe in Christendom.

The

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