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Legitimation, name, and all is gone : Then, good my mother, let me know my father: Some proper man, hope-Who was it, mother? L. Faul. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Faul. As faithfully as I deny the devil.
L. Faul. King Richard cœur-de-lion was thy father:
By long and vehement suit I was seduc'd
To make room for him in my husband's bed;
Thou art the issue of my dear offence:
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge!
Faul. Now, by this light, were I to get again,
Madam, I would not wish a better father.
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth,
And so doth yours; your fault was not your folly!
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose,
Against whose fury and unmatched force
The aweless lion could not wage the fight,
Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
He, that perforce robs lions of their hearts,
May easily win a woman's. Ah, my mother,
With all my heart I thank thee for my father!
Who lives and dares but say, thou didst not well
When I was got, I'll send his soul to hell.-
Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin;
And they shall say, when Richard me begot,
If thou had'st said him nay, it had been sin:
Who says, it was,
he lies; I say, 'twas not.
The Walls of Angiers.
Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.
Enter PHILIP, King of France, LEWIS, the Dauphin, ARTHUR, CONSTANCE, the ARCHDUKE of AUSTRIA, FRENCH HERALD, GENTLEMEN, a TRUMPET, and GUARDS.
K. Phil. Before Angiers well met, brave Austria.·
Arthur, that great forerunner of thy 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 posterity,
At our importance hither is he come,
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf;
And to rebuke the usurpation
Of thy unnatural uncle, English John:
Embrace him, love him, give him welcome hither.
Arth. Heaven shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's
The rather, that you give his offspring life,
Shadowing their right under your wings of war:
I give you welcome with a powerless hand,
But with a heart full of unstained love:
Welcome before the gates of Angiers, Duke.
Lew. A noble boy! Who would not do thee right?
Aust. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss,
As seal to this indenture of my love :
That to my home I will no more return,
Till Angiers, and the right thou hast in France,
Together with that pale, that white-fac'd shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
Ev'n till that England, hedg'd in with the main,
That water-walled bulwark, still secure
And confident from foreign purposes,
Salute thee for her King: till then, fair boy,
Will I not think of home, but follow arms.
Con. O, take his mother's thanks, a widow's thanks, Till your strong hand shall help to give him strength, To make a more requital to your love.
Aust. The peace of Heaven is theirs, that lift their swords
In such a just and charitable war.
K. Phil. Well then, to work; our cannon shall be bent
Against the brows of this resisting town.—
We'll lay before this town our royal bones,
But we will make it subject to this boy.
Con. Stay for an answer to your embassy, Lest unadvis'd you stain your swords with blood; My Lord Chatillon 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 haste so indirectly shed.
[4 Trumpet sounds. K. Phil, A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish, Our messenger Chatillon is arriv'd.—
Enter CHATILLON and FRENCH GENTLEMEN.
What England says, say briefly, gentle lord;
Cha. Then turn your forces from this paltry siege,
And stir them up against a mightier task.
England, impatient of your just demands,
Hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds,
Whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time
To land his legions all as soon as I:
With him along is come the mother Queen,
An Até, stirring him to blood and strife ;
With her her niece, the Lady Blanch of Spain;
With them a bastard of the King's deceas'd;
And all the unsettled humours of the land:
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
Did never float upon the swelling tide,
To do offence and scath in Christendom.-
[A March at a Distance.
The interruption of their churlish drums
Cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand,
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare.
K. Phil. How much unlook'd for is this expedition !
Enter KING JOHN, FAULCON BRIDGE, ELINOR, SALISBURY, BLANCH, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, HUBERT, ENGLISH HERALD, GENTLEMEN, a TRUMPET, and GUARDS.
K. John. Peace be to France; if France in peace permit
Our just and lineal entrance to our own!
If not, bleed France, and peace ascend to heaven!
K. Phil. Peace be to England; if that war return From France to England, there to live in peace!— Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face ; These eyes, these brows, were moulded out of his : That Geffrey was thy elder brother born, And this his son; England was Geffrey's right, And this is Geffrey's: In the name of Heaven, How comes it then, that thou art call'd a king,
When living blood doth in these temples beat,
Which owe the crown that thou o'er-masterest?
K. John. From whom hast thou this great commis-
sion, France, To draw my answer from thy articles ? K. Phil. From that supernal Judge, that stirs good
In any breast of strong authority,
To look into the blots and stains of right:
That Judge hath made me guardian to this boy ;
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong.
K. John. Alack, thou dost usurp authority.
K. Phil. Excuse: it is to beat usurping down.
Eli. Who is it, thou dost call usurper, France ?
Con. Let me make answer; thy usurping son.
Arth. Good my mother, peace!
I would, that I were low laid in my grave ;
I am not worth this coil, that's made for me.
Eli. His mother shames him so, poor boy, he
weeps. Con. His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's
Draw those Heaven-moving pearls from his poor eyes,
Which Heaven shall take in nature of a fee ;
Ay, with these crystal beads Heaven shall be brib'd
To do him justice, and revenge on you.
Eli. Thou monstrous slanderer of Heaven and
Faul. Hear the crier,
Aust. What the devil art thou ?
Faul, One that will play the devil, sir, with you,
An’a may catch your hide and you alone.
You are the hare of whom the proverb goes,
Whose valour plucks dead lions by the beard ;
I'll smoke your skin-coat, an I catch you right ;
Sirrah, look to't ; i'faith, I will, i'faith.
K. Phil. King John, this is the very sum ofall, -