Yet sell your face for five-pence, and 'tis dear.-
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death.

Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me thither.
Faul. Our country manners give our betters way.
K. John. What is thy name?

Faul. Philip, my liege; so is my name begun ;
Philip, good old Sir Robert's wife's eldest son.

K. John. From henceforth bear his name, whose
form thou bear'st;

Kneel thou down, Philip, but arise more great;
Arise Sir Richard, and Plantagenet.

Faul. Brother, by mother's side, give me your hand,
My father gave me honour, yours gave land :-
Now blessed be the hour, by night or day,
When I was got, Sir Robert was away!
Brother, adieu:-good fortune come to thee,
For thou wast got i' the way of honesty.

K. John. Go, Faulconbridge! now hast thou thy desire,

A landless knight makes thee a landed squire.

[Exit ROBERT FAULCONBRIDGE, L come, madam, and come, Richard: we must speed For France, for France; for it is more than need. [Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.—Exeunt L all but FAULCONBRIDGE.

Faul. (R.) A foot of honour better than I was; But many a foot of land the worse.

Well, now can I make any Joan a lady:

Good den, Sir Richard"---" God-a-mercy, fellow !"
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names.-
But who comes in such haste!

What woman post is this? hath she no husband
That will take pains to blow a horn before her?
O me, it is my mother.

Enter LADY FAULCONBRIDGE and GURNEY, L.
How now, good lady?*

What brings you here to court so hastily?

L. Faul. (c.) Where is that slave, thy brother?
Where is he,

That holds in chase mine honour up and down?

Faul. My brother Robert? old Sir Robert's son? Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man?

Is it Sir Robert's son. that you seek se?

B

L. Faul. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou unreverend

boy,

Sir Robert's son: why scorn'st thou at Sir Robert?
He is Sir Robert's son, and so art thou.

Faul. James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave a while?

Gur. (L.) Good leave, good Philip.

Faul. Philip ?-sparrow !-James,

There's toys abroad; anon I'll tell thee more.

[Exit GURNEY, L.

Madam, I was not old Sir Robert's son:
Sir Robert might have eat his part in me
Upon Good Friday, and ne'er broke his fast :
Sir Robert could do well; marry, (to confess)
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 ?
Sir Robert never help to make this leg.

L. Faul. Hast thou conspired with thy brother too, That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine honour? What means this scorn, thou most untoward knave?

Faul. Knight, knight, good mother:-Basiliskolike!

What! I am dubb'd! I have it on my shoulder.-
But, mother, I am not Sir Robert's son;

I have disclaim'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?

L. Faul. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulconbridge?
Faul. As faithfully as I deny the devil.

L. Faul. King Richard Coeur-de-Lion was thy father: By long and vehement suit I was seduced

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, 1
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 awless 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 hadst said him nay, it had been sin :
Who says it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not.

[Exeunt, R.

END OF ACT I.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-France.-The Walls of Angiers.-
Flourish of Drums and Trumpets.

Enter PHILLIP, King of France, Lewis, the Dau-
phin, ARTHUR, CONSTANCE, the ARCHDUKE of
AUSTRIA, FRENCH HERALD, GENTLEMEN, a
TRUMPET, and GUARDS, R.

K. Phil. (c.) Before Angiers well met, brave Au

stria.

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. (R. C.) Heaven shall forgive you Coeur-de-
Lion's death,

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. (R. C.) 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 Franc
Together with that pale, that white-faced shore,
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides,
Ev'n till that England, hedged 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. (R. c.) 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 unadvised 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 hate so indirectly shed.

[A Trumpet sounds, L. K. Phil. A wonder, lady!-lo, upon thy wish, Our messenger Chatillon is arrived

Enter CHATILLON, L. and French Gentlemen. What England says, say briefly, gentle lord; Chatillon, speak.

Cha. (L.) 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, hath 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 deceased;
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 scathe in Christendom.-

[A March at a distance, L.

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! [French all retire, R.

A March, L.

Enter KING JOHN, FAULCONBRIDGE, ELINOR, SALISBURY, BLANCH, PEMBROKE, ESSEX, HUBERT, ENGLISH HERALD, GENTLEMEN, a TRUMPET, and GUARDS, L.

K. John. (L.) 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. (R.) Peace be to England; if that war re-

turn

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. (L. c.) From whom hast thou this great
commission, France,

To draw my answer from thy articles?

K. Phil. (R. c.) From that supernal Judge, that stirs good thoughts